Well, clearly I haven't been able to attend this blog as much as I would have liked to. So goes the Net. If you've come to this site looking for information on my two novels - 6 Sick Hipsters and Very Mercenary - check out the links below. I update those more frequently. Hope to see you there.
Rayo Casablanca home
6 Sick Hipsters
Very Mercenary
Friday, March 13, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Throat Sprockets
Tim Lucas has a great post about the cult following around his brilliant first novel, Throat Sprockets.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
Fever Ray - If I Had a Heart
Karin Dreijer Andersson's (of The Knife) solo album will be released stateside in March but you can download it, uh, tomorrow.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Allan Guthrie love
Brilliant crime novelist Allan Guthrie spreads some early Very Mercenary love over at Book Spot Central.
He writes, "Very Mercenary by Rayo Casablanca (Kensington, US, spring ’09) This was the most fun I had reading a book all last year. Very Mercenary reads as if Joe Canrahan (director/screenwriter of Smokin’ Aces), Chuck Palahniuk and Philip Dick got together to write a novel with the remit that they had to really let their hair down this time."
Nice! Check out his other '08 favs here.
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
Cut from 6 Sick Hipsters #1
Here's the first of several passages/pages edited from early drafts of 6 Sick Hipsters. The one below is a personal favorite:
"Wolfgang Brown had a squirrel problem.
The frizz-tailed rodents that darted in front of his '89 Honda hatchback did not scramble back to the greenbelt; they stood frozen before his car to be ground to asphalt. It was as though the squirrels were sacrificing themselves. He imagined them lined up, beady eyes trailing after passing cars. Walnut sized hearts pounding. Them ready to jump, spring forward with some chattering cry like fuzzy martyrs. The hatchback was an altar for holocaust. Their deaths seemed so instinctual that it could be nothing less than religious.
Devout Christians found the Virgin in a pancake. They saw her veiled in a roadside shrubbery. Her smiling in a smear of oil on a pane of glass. Perhaps the squirrels saw an imperfection on Wolfgang’s car that demanded worship? Wolfgang had carefully examined the manifold on the hatchback. He checked out the tires. The bumper. Even the windshield. But he could not find any scrapes, tears, bumps, scratches, or splotches that might suggest, in a squirrel’s eye, an object of adoration.
They squirrels simply died and Wolfgang had no idea why.
In order to reduce the casualties, he took what he called “urban” routes to work. Santavista High was only a few miles south of his apartment complex but Wolfgang drove a five mile loop north before coming back down just so he could take Interstate 75 and avoid the neighborhoods and greenbelts where the faithful awaited the coming of their Japanese rear-wheel drive messiah. It actually worked out better that way. Taking I-75 brought Wolfgang through Fruitville and afforded him a chance to meet up with Tony on Mondays before school began."
© 2005-2008 Rayo Casablanca
"Wolfgang Brown had a squirrel problem.
The frizz-tailed rodents that darted in front of his '89 Honda hatchback did not scramble back to the greenbelt; they stood frozen before his car to be ground to asphalt. It was as though the squirrels were sacrificing themselves. He imagined them lined up, beady eyes trailing after passing cars. Walnut sized hearts pounding. Them ready to jump, spring forward with some chattering cry like fuzzy martyrs. The hatchback was an altar for holocaust. Their deaths seemed so instinctual that it could be nothing less than religious.
Devout Christians found the Virgin in a pancake. They saw her veiled in a roadside shrubbery. Her smiling in a smear of oil on a pane of glass. Perhaps the squirrels saw an imperfection on Wolfgang’s car that demanded worship? Wolfgang had carefully examined the manifold on the hatchback. He checked out the tires. The bumper. Even the windshield. But he could not find any scrapes, tears, bumps, scratches, or splotches that might suggest, in a squirrel’s eye, an object of adoration.
They squirrels simply died and Wolfgang had no idea why.
In order to reduce the casualties, he took what he called “urban” routes to work. Santavista High was only a few miles south of his apartment complex but Wolfgang drove a five mile loop north before coming back down just so he could take Interstate 75 and avoid the neighborhoods and greenbelts where the faithful awaited the coming of their Japanese rear-wheel drive messiah. It actually worked out better that way. Taking I-75 brought Wolfgang through Fruitville and afforded him a chance to meet up with Tony on Mondays before school began."
© 2005-2008 Rayo Casablanca
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
King Shot - Jodo talks
Here's a new interview with Jodorowsky re: his feature (produced by David Lynch), King Shot.
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