from “The Lover’s Nest”

hermit kingdom, MARCUS SLEASE FICTION, NOMADIC SURREALISM

A excerpt from my second novel in progress, Hermit Kingdom. This section is called “The Lover’s Nest.”

Polish sailor pubs. Rustic jazz clubs. Vibrating Pineal glands.

Self-branding, love and companionship,

monsters, MILFS, and satanic energy drinks

Nomadic journeys from Katowice to Madrid to North Carolina with beer butt chicken and pimento cheese sandwiches.

How to expand with it.

Jitters

ABSURDIST LITERATURE, hermit kingdom, MARCUS SLEASE FICTION, NOMADIC SURREALISM

“A part wants to break away from the other part. The part that wants to break away claims a different culture. How many cultures make the whole. Who are the true people from the part that wants to break away and the true people from the part that believes in the whole.| My flash fiction, Jitters, at Litro today. Chosen for Flash Fiction Friday.

(image: Frank Moth)

Storm Shoes

hermit kingdom, NOMADIC SURREALISM

When Milo opened the window more students poured in. Not long after, there were 40 of them, in a room built for 20. Don’t be a lazy bird. When the lightning struck, the computer was fried, the projector was intact, but there was nothing to project. End of lesson. No more Animal Farm. Here, said Jonathan, take your shoes off. They found a damp towel together. But it was too late, his shoes were already submerged. It would take two days to dry them.When your feet are wet it’s hard to warm your body. If the river has overflown its banks, it is best to wade barefoot. If you climb on the fence it brings the lightning closer. The lightning hit the tree and then there was fire.

 

The bus stop was dark and street was dark but now and again a car would shine the lights and it was less dark, but still relatively dark. Don Whiskers wondered if the bus would arrive, and if so when. It was the eternal question. His toes were wrinkling inside his wet shoes. The faces in the holes were egg shaped. At the busstop a strappling young woman, with garters and a snake. They make eye contact, briefly, then back to looking down the street for the bus. The bus stop makes everyone anxious, storm or no storm. Will it come and when and if. Suddenly the sky opened into an egg yolk.

Workers of the World

hermit kingdom, NOMADIC SURREALISM

An excerpt from my novel in progress, Hermit Kingdom, is up today at Queen Mob’s Teahouse. Hermit Kingdom is interconnecting flash fictions, prose poetry, hybrids.

International Worker’s Day 2018, Pineapple and Don Whiskers, living in Madrid, walk the walk past Cazorla, with the best tapas, and the friendly waitress, down past the death ring, to gander at beautiful feminine male peacocks in El Retiro, eat homely tastes at the only Polish restaurant in the city, where Don Whiskers attempts to talk sports with little knowledge of sports, Pineapple dreaming the great dream of weekend getaways together, the nearby desert mountains, or northern, Basque and Asturian and Galician, magical escapes into nature, but also the realities of transient work and financial realities of lower middle class living, loving and living more with less, soaking into the sun, walking the walk, traveling to wake up, even if it is only within a few mile radius, friendship and travel and sometimes, despite the realities, a little hope.

 

 

 

 

Adjacent Pineapple

hermit kingdom, MARCUS SLEASE FICTION, NOMADIC SURREALISM

Super happy to have an excerpt from Hermit Kingdom (formally The Autobiography of Don Whiskers) in Adjacent Pineapple.

Book 2 begins in Spain (Madrid) and the move to Barcelona. This excerpt is all about the body. And also the great Madrid fiesta San Isidro. It is also about friendship and creating a hermit kingdom as an outsider in a foreign country. It is also “toxic masculinity, toxic femininity, toxic capitalism, toxic Marxism, toxic plastic consumer frenzies, the news, toxic, his leather shoes, toxic, there is too much meat in the world and not enough vegetables.”

It is also about port o potties and peeing troughs and trying not to step in anyone’s drippings. It is expansive maximalist content in minimalist packaging. It is death and life and everything between. It is hybrid like all the great art.

Take a wee read over here:

From Hermit Kingdom