My first book. Originally published by GFY Press in Vancouver Canada.
From the squalid heroin dens and live sex clubs of Bangkok to the steaming underbelly of Calcutta, The Crooked Beat takes you to places few tourists ever see. Like Trainspotting set in the jungle, the journey is as funny as it is horrifying. This is Southeast Asia in all its chaotic glory: a raunchy mix of jungle parties, drugs, and punk rock. Hang onto your passport and watch your ass because the trip is going to be wild.
My second book. Published by Green Ant Press, Sydney.
In this hilarious, nightmarish masterpiece of imaginative excess, amoral characters engage in absurd obscenities, a civilization hurtles off the rails and human kind balks at a turning point. This hallucinatory and fragmentary novel spins and flips through a Bacchanalian dystopia of gang warfare, excessive drug use and total war. Startlingly different and ultra-modern, BLOCKPANDA succeeds in making the explicit and horrific captivating.
My third book. Published by Green Ant Press, Sydney. I really ‘pushed the envelope’ with this book – definitely not for the faint of heart.
In a society controlled by pharmaceutical companies, a mysterious virus spreads unchecked. Drug rehabs have become self-replicating cults that supply big pharma with mind-controlled minions. Police officer, Justin Albright, goes undercover to infiltrate the drug underworld in order to get into rehab. He is thrust into an ultra-violent sub-culture of weaponised hallucinogens, high-powered narcotics and indiscriminate brutality. Life devolves into a psychedelic nightmare and word on the street is that there is a new gang in town.
The book version of this blog, published by Green Ant Press, Sydney.
I started the blog Underneath the Stairwell in 2009 when I was working at a job that I hated. It was a job that completely consumed my life – there was no escape. At the end of the work day I was left feeling demented and had to drink heavily just to feel normal again.
Have you ever tried to hold a beach ball under water? The further you push it down, the harder it resists. Eventually, you lose control and the ball shoots to the surface and breaches with force, hitting someone in the face and giving them a bloody nose. The more I worked and neglected my writing, the more my repressed stories fought against my mind until I lost control and they breached my consciousness. Then I would grab a milk crate and sit underneath the stairwell at my place of work and frantically type out a missive. Underneath the Stairwell was the result and it kept me going through those depressing times and was a lot cheaper than psychotherapy.
The following stories are what bubbled to the surface, hope they give you a bloody nose…