Tricksters, Crackers, and Gods

The Unpublished Run-On Preface

While writing my first novel, O Little Central Florida Town of Bedlam, reality seemed to mimic some of the chaotic scenarios in my book. It should have come as no surprise then when shortly after my completing a first draft of the preface for my follow-up novel, Tricksters, Crackers, and Gods (Roy and Judd’s Inferno and Florida Odyssey), coincidence left its calling card again. The original unpublished preface, eventually shortened from 6 to 2 pages, touched on a trip in my youth to the West Coast of Florida, specifically to Naples and Sanibel Island. Around the time I began to begrudgingly edit the piece, Hurricane Ian—the deadliest such storm to wallop the state of Florida since the 1935 Labor Day hurricane—began to form and take aim at the same areas. 

I look at some of the pictures of the horrific devastation the storm produced and they give me pause to reflect on the chaos in my own life. You see, for the past 2 years I’ve been homeless. In fact, this next novel was written in one country, edited in another, and finalized and published in yet another. And, in that span of time I went from Greece to the UK, back to Greece, back to the UK, and then finally bottoming out back in the USA, where I was born. Rebuilding is the name of the game, both in respect to myself and the victims of Hurricane Ian. Speaking personally about my own Odyssey, I’m thankful I’m alive and still have the energy to complete this project despite the continuing fallout of my own crisis … but back to the preface of my novel. 

Clearly it was too long in its original state, because the publishing mavens balk at a preface that exceeds 2 pages, so like George Washington’s cherry tree, I chopped it down, figuring I would publish it in full here as a lead into the release of the novel. Here it is in its full verbose, stream-of-consciousness glory:

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Climate Riot!

Announcing the release of my latest book!

Climate Riot: Absurd Short Stories of Climate Crisis and Social Chaos.

While climate change is no laughing matter, the human condition, especially as a trigger for global warming, is ripe for lampooning with psycho-social satire. Set in Florida, ground zero for climate crisis, this angsty collection of seven short stories—and a preface, too—infuses absurd satire and dark humor into postmodern, cautionary tales of horror, science-fiction, fantasy, and social dysfunction.

A tropical storm of social and climate crisis which touches on the ludicrous, representing small-town eccentricity and featuring a whirlwind of mutating humans, manatees, iguanas, and enlightened cows, as well as hurricanes, genetically-modified corn, weeds gone wild, methane gas, nuclear power plants, Humpty Dumpty, government ineptitude, and a few Florida crackers, rednecks, and hicks. Also featuring my character, Judd Jugmonger, who not only is in the final story, but also plays a large role in the future 2nd novel.

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Let Them Eat Cough Cake

At times, it seems as if the whole world has become one giant furry-esque Disneyland. Denial is rampant and “turn the other cheek” often means looking the other way. The Internet is crawling with the failed, offering their poor experience as “life coaches” and hawking clichés they have gotten out of a one-dollar book of quotes. Why? Because the Internet is also filled with desperate dreamers—and all the snake-oil-selling sharks can smell blood in the water.

Today, professionalism, experience, initiative, productivity, and creativity mean very little in a dehumanized business climate that more so values the bottom line, politics, or follow-me aesthetics.

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Twas the Night before Apathy

Dada Krampus -Jay L. Schwartz - @jschwartz63
Dada Krampus

‘Twas the yawn before the holiday; you know of which I speak.
Not a punter was shopping, not even a post-Black-Friday peep.
The billboards were bright-shining on the streets below that glared,
In hope that no infrastructure would ever be spared.
The doomsayers were glued to the latest i-dreads,
While visions of paranoia droned in their heads.
And a cat with no whiskers, and I with my crap,
Had just drank our brains out, and man we were zapped!

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A Special Thanksgiving Message!

Dada Halloween - Jay L. Schwartz @jschwartz63

A Special Thanksgiving Message! 🦃

Another holiday season is upon us, bringing us its bounty of reminders of what’s important in life … and what’s not. And so, I would like to take a moment to offer up my less-than-humble thanks from the gutter of life. I am thankful for Donald J. Trump; it’s good to have a recognizable face to go with the definition of sub-human. Of course, his pockets are deep enough to buy my love, if he really, really, wanted to—and I could really, really use the money, right now—since, as Jim Morrison said, “Money beats soul, every time.”

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The Last Grasp for a Gasp

Dada Angstus by Jay Leonard Schwartz - @jschwartz63 - Collage Art

The Last Grasp for a Gasp

Deeply lost in the woods in the unsettling comfort of your grasp.
The misunderstood remain elusive, purposely so …
and, there but before ego, grace falls in serpentine gasps.

The window will turn seasons again in a few moments.
Stay tuned—the show is about to begin!
A cast of characters scatter the dreams, laid out like serpents.

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The Transmystic Blues Sniffers: Seeds and Stems

The Transmystic Blues Sniffers: Seeds and Stems
Seeds and Stems – The Transmystic Blues Sniffers

“I am Anarcho-Instamatic!
(Hail to the populist regime!)
I am your law and disorder.
Holy crypto-manic libertine!”

And with that absurd battle cry, my band, the Transmystic Blues Sniffers, released our long-awaited debut album, Seeds and Stems. The album is currently available digitally on music platforms like Spotify, YouTube Music, Bandcamp, Apple Music, and Amazon Music. See the links below to hear or purchase the album. Call your local radio station and demand the DJs to play it—yes, I said demand because civil disobedience demands nothing less!

Now, it shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone who knows me that when I’m not writing poetry, prose and novels, I’m writing songs. In fact, my writing exploits really began with my writing music and lyrics, which to be honest, I had hoped other bands might cover one day. Life, however, has taken me down some strange paths—including this one with my bandmates, which I am very happy to have been on as they are also my dear friends.

As far as the album goes, there’s much to be said about hit and run art. “Leave the beholders stunned and confused,” I say. By the time they figure out what the absurd lyrics “Long live the leftist Hitler Youth” and “DEFCON: Defecation!” really mean, I’ll be long gone. In truth, I wanted to produce this album two years ago, but (as it always happens) life gets in the way. Now that it has finally been released, I am leaving Greece, my home, for better or for worse, for the last twenty-five years. It’s a shame that due to the coronavirus we won’t be able to perform the album live, but as they say, “that’s showbiz, kids.” I hope the band survives my departure one way or another because we are all friends and play-well with each other. Also, we have a lot of good music we have yet to record officially. Nevertheless, greener experiential pastures, new creative collaborations, regeneration, and even love await.

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