My attempts to clean out the basement have yielded more suspect treasures. The best of today’s nostalgic gems? The hilarity that is this:
Lest anyone tell you that the 80s weren’t so bad, you show them this.
You show them this and you make them remember.
The dolphins remember and they are PISSED.
I also came across mountains of awful, angst-ridden poetry, and this very peculiar artifact:
The image on the left is a project I did for an English class when I was 14. The image on the right is the cover of the ARC for my debut novel. Crazy, no?
(I know, I know. I should have done a big cover reveal. But the ARCs arrived while I was in the bunker and the cover is actually going to change, so I didn’t go crazy with the fanfare. When we get the final cover, I promise there will be trumpets, dancing girls, and a big ol’ giveaway.)
The Canticle of Freaks yielded more bad poetry and some wretched assignments on Invisible Son and My Name is Asher Lev, but inside I also found these peculiar little sketches. I was never much of an artist, but I’ll admit to loving their creepiness.
Why the cloven hoof? We can but speculate. The answer to that mystery and the riddles posed by a dolphin playing electric guitar have been lost to antiquity.
I’ll be away next week, so let me take this chance to say Happy Thanksgiving. May your days be fat and full of pie, and may there be monsters at your table.