Colors, so many colors.
Blue, red, green, yellow, blue, purple, pink, more pink, neon pink, double pink.
They will not stop.
They move.
Jerky. Shaky. Uncontrolled. Indistinct.
Truck. Two trucks. Giant Bullbars. Orange. Whirling.
They dance.
They will not stop.
Make them stop.
A fist. Two fists. Giant knuckles. Red. As blood. Red blood.
And the spinning colors.
Nipples. Two. Three. Too many to count. Nippeldy nipples everywhere.
And above all:
Gerard Butler, floating, soaring, rising over Times Square.
Game Over.
Postmodernist poetry or an attempt to review Gamer (a.k.a. Quick Ways To Turn Your Brain Into Elderberry Jam)?
You decide.
Verena Kyratzes 
… and my first thought was:
What’s so funny about Chairman Mao?
Bloody acronyms.
roflMAO
To tell God’s honest truth… we haven’t started on that yet. We’re doing another round of editing right now, to get the book into perfect shape.
But thanks for asking. I’ll be sure to write about it if anything interesting happens in terms of my novel. (Or anything interesting at all, period.)
How’s the agent thingy going?