VBT: The Adventures of Fawn – When The Last Snowflake Falls
Posted by authorcamilson
Book Genre: Literary Fiction and Poetry
Publisher: Screamin’ Skull Press
Release Date: Already out –
Buy Link(s): http://sspbookstore.storenvy.com/
Amazon links to Tony and Nicole –
Nicole Nesca – https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=dp_byline_sr_book_1?ie=UTF8&text=nicole+i-nesca&search-alias=books&field-author=nicole+i-nesca&sort=relevancerank
Junkyard Lucy is a collection of stories by underground writer Tony Nesca. Stylistically alternating between Nesca’s unique free-flow style, full of that incredible, rhythmic prose that only he can do, and street-tough, short declarative sentences, the writing shows incredible range. The themes are varied and widespread – from love, sex, music, death, old age, rebellious youth and everything in-between, Junkyard Lucy is a subversive celebration of being alive, a romantic, sexually charged discourse on life, alive, unfettered and free.
And I’m walking through the devil infested streets, and all I see are lights greasy and wanting, and all I see is violence and blood-red intentions, and all I see are the generals feasting on flesh, and there was an old friend of mine standing at a street corner with back against telephone pole just watching the cars go by and the lights from the liquor store red and blue and purple and orange and yellow and it’s metal-to-metal striking that note just right and the midnight crazies looking to fuck someone up, but we stop and talk and we’re not afraid and we’re not unhappy and we’re even bored kinda feeling the end of something,
“I’m just bored with all of this” I say,
He nods and smiles sadly and I wave goodbye and I see all the street-junkies hobbling along with their toothless grins and their one-note thinking, and I see the young girls with sad smiles holding on to nothing at all the predators never far, and I think of losing her suddenly and that tragic afternoon under the sun, sometimes a nice car pulls up to the liquor store and the well-groomed move forward their intentions and true meaning as rotten as everybody else’s and the bank accounts ring like a bell as their fucked-up night-world is about to begin, I think of the 1920’s and Dixieland jazz and Billy Holiday and sipping on cold gin at a Parisian café while Picasso strolls by screaming something wild and crazy, and the young victims died in back alleys then as they do now and as long as people are involved, the shit flows, and I need all your love, baby, all of it day and night…
But I see something else now, I see a movie theater with light bulbs shining on the edge of the billboard full of smiling ideas, and I see a late-night pizza joint with small line-up of guys and gals laughing into the darkness, and I see a middle-aged couple kissing in front of a closed record store and I think of good friends and screaming good times and I’m talking about the light-filled moments everywhere all around –
– and it’s day-time now and I am by a river beams of golden light coming through trees and green all around wooded path leading me into that cool-sunshine shiver and I don’t hesitate, I don’t hesitate to smile and to laugh and to feel alright, and the river ripples in the wind bright-diamond-flickers on its surface, opposite bank showing a few apartment buildings sprouting out from the ever-present green of the ever-present trees, a young woman jogs by thighs jiggling in the hot morning shadow, old man walks slowly leaning on cane smiling lovely and new his youth bubbling just under the surface, and we all wanna get along don’t we, between closed teeth she swears again, between lips parted he smokes and says goodbye, and the college students continue with their misguided learnings, and the proletarians can all kiss my ass, and the rejected rejects triumph once again, and above the skyscrapers the superheroes continue their homo-erotic wrestling, I shake god’s hand and give him a wink, he winks back and smiles and scratches his ass, all my love to you I say, and mine to you he says, then he cranks the electric guitar and starts playing some rock and roll, and all across the universe and beyond and through the back-alley love affairs and the switchblade mornings,
the inside of my mind screams happy thoughts –
Author Bio: Tony Nesca was born in Torino, Italy in 1965 and moved to Canada at the age of three. He was raised in Winnipeg but relocated back to Italy several times until finally settling in Winnipeg in 1980. He taught himself how to play guitar and formed an original rock band playing the local bars for several years. At the age of twenty-seven he traded his guitar for a Commodore 64 and started writing seriously. He has published six chapbooks of stories and poems (which he used to sell straight out of his knapsack at local dives and bookstores), six novels, four books of poetry and stories and has been an active contributor to the underground lit scene for twelve years, being published in innumerable magazines both online and in print.
Author Bio: Nicole I. Nesca was born in Ohio. She developed a love of music, painting and writing early on and continued that love throughout her adult life. While living in Canada, she completed her first three works of poetry and prose collected in the anthology piece, KAMIKAZE WHITE NOISE., and her latest release of poems, Diamond Scarred Alley. She has been published in several E-Zines and has been a part of two anthologies.