This is Otherworldly: Volume 2, a rad collection of genre fiction stories by some of the best writers I know (and, in addition to those people, me). We did the first volume last year in partnership with the equally rad Nerd Street (who run some of my favorite conventions ever) and it was awesome to be included again this time.
I wrote a story called Hot Bloods, which is a prequel to my 2022 novel, Cold World. You can totally read it on its own, but it’s extra special within the context of my original book. I’m really proud of it and I hope everyone and their mother reads it.
The collection is doing well so far: it ranked #3 Most Gifted on Amazon! And you can pick up your own copy there, or you can try to win one right here! (Or both!)
You have until Friday, June 6th, to answer the following eight questions about Cold World. If you get them (mostly) correct, you’ll be entered into a drawing to win a free copy signed by me and sent to you. I will only be signing copies of Otherworldly at events, so this is kind of a big deal! I will also have copies for sale with me this Saturday, June 7th at SpringCon at the State Fairgrounds.
Here are the questions; feel free to use your notes and peek at your neighbor’s answers! I’m so excited to get this book into your paws. Make sure you message your answers and don’t leave them in a comment for all to see. Good luck to you!
1. What is the name of Calef’s dog? 2. What day is Oscar’s birthday? 2. Where did the asteroid Velos land? 3. Where was the asteroid Velos supposed to land? 4. Who are the two main groups at odds in the story? 5. What mythical creature is featured in the prophecy? 6. Name one model of spaceship found in the story. 7. What is the Loner’s real name? 8. What gift does Calef give his father?
I’ve been wondering why life has felt so chaotic and fast lately and then realized I wasn’t writing much of it down. Not here.
I haven’t been processing correctly. Instead of developing my memories and experiences in a quiet darkroom, investigating their details and exploring their mysteries as they slowly materialize, I’ve been taking a thousand cell phone photos a day, not stopping to think or feel or reflect.
Feeling, for me, can be a problem that leads to other problems; the bigger the feeling, the bigger the problem, and I have a feeling big problem. I was thinking about that this morning, water falling down my face, trying to catch as little as I could.
Today is my mom’s birthday; it’s the end of May, the unofficial end of Spring, the end of a spell where I didn’t write things down on the internet.
How do we cope? With any of it? I have ten new ideas for essays that will save us every single day, topics from politics to community to grief to recovery but, as soon as I start writing them, my big thoughts and big feelings lead to big problems, none as big as the fear of apathy. Do my words matter? My thoughts or feelings? Does anybody’s? In a world where so many of us have already made up our minds and know everything there is to know, what is the point of creating our points?
I find myself getting frustrated a lot. I can’t pinpoint it. I try to be patient and my brain floods like a boat engine. I can feel the anxiety in the veins circuiting my neck, bubbles of electric stress rising through my blood; it’s in the back of my throat, pooling like existential acid.
Life doesn’t feel fast; it is fast. We are forever catching up until we just can’t run anymore. The Earth might feel you on her scalp for a moment and then you’re not.
We do our best to develop the time, to let it reveal itself to us; to not just look at it, but to see it; to frame it and put it on our wall or stick it in our pocket and hope dearly it doesn’t fall out.
I do that by writing it down and lately I haven’t been doing that enough. I’m so sorry. Not to you and not to me. But to time. And to my mom, because I let that time here go by too fast.
I miss her so much, but if she’s outside time right now, I know she’s having a blast. Eternity doesn’t move fast; eternity doesn’t have to rush. There aren’t people trying to get one last conversation in before the mosquitoes eat them up on the front porch. The beer and brandy doesn’t run out and the Coke is always cold. The animal on your lap wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. The sun doesn’t rise or set and her party never has to end at all.
I hope, despite everything I do and don’t believe, that is true.
My spring semester (and first official full school year) ended on Monday.
I did it. I took six classes this semester (the most I will ever have to take) and still somehow managed to maintain a 4.0 GPA.
That’s pretty cool. But that’s not even what I’m most proud of.
I wrote a song back in 2007 called Honesty & Happiness that starts: “Well, I was looking at the long term / three quarters and I quit school / now I break hearts as a learning tool.” This is a true story.
When I went to college for the first time, I was 19 years old, still trying to figure out how to live on my own, and just getting acquainted with a drinking problem that would take me years to recognize and do something about. I never finished the first year. I started strong in the fall; my grades slipped a little but I still completed the winter quarter; and then sometime after spring sprung I never went back to class.
For twenty years.
But then I did again. And I’ve officially gone further this time. I completed a whole year. And, you know, did it while doing everything else in my life (and it’s kind of a lot, you guys).
I’ll say it again: I love school. I love learning. It’s nice to have goals but it’s better to be there when my main motivation is the education itself. We’re in an information crisis and it isn’t impossible or even difficult to protect ourselves and help others; it just takes time and personal investment.
I said last semester that I would probably never get a 4.0 again and I meant it, but I was wrong, and I have been wrong about far worse.
So: no more predictions. Just more work. After I enjoy this summer, that is. Someone get me a Capri Sun.
All my love to everyone who came to the Weirdos Art Show today. I had a lovely time.
As an artist, I’ve always asked myself: could I fill a room?
I was pleasantly surprised by the answers I found.
I appreciate the shared coffee, baked goods and excellent conversation, and if we just met for the first time and you’ve found yourself here: hello from my space and I hope you feel welcome.
There were a few dozen entries by the end of the event in the giveaway bag, and I was sincerely happy to pull the winner: Neal Wertanen, who totally deserves it. You officially have a copy of Weirdos to share the love now!
Again, thank you all so much. I don’t take your time for granted and we appreciate this community for allowing us to take swings at our big ideas and do things that not many others do.
As if you needed another reason to come to the Weirdos Art Show this Saturday: I’m doing a Gallery Giveaway!
Every visitor can put their name into a pool when they arrive, and at the end of the day I’ll fish one of those people out. That person will win a Weirdos Prize Package, which includes:
• An original piece: “weird,” 12 x 16, blue pencil & Sharpie on canvas, signed by artist, 2025 • The Weirdos: Volume I graphic novel • The Flying Squirrel #1 • The Sketch/The Blue-Ringer #1 • The Weirdos sticker set • Lake Mary pin set • MN Nice mug
And how much will an entry cost you? Nothing! The giveaway is free, much to Eric’s dismay. I just appreciate anyone who decides to spend their time with me this weekend, and this is a small way to show my gratitude.
See you on Saturday, superfans!
Details: Weirdos Art Show Saturday, May 10 Mind’s Eye Comics Burnsville Center Coffee & snacks on us Free Gallery Giveaway 11 am until you get sick of me
I have an art gallery this weekend at Mind’s Eye Comics in the Burnsville Center that you should totally check out; you should also check out this video where I talk about confidence (and the lack of it), perspective as we grow, and how my gallery is a fight against AI.
It’s my birthday today. I love my birthday. I’m awful like that. I also believe that you should cherish celebrating each one, because there will come a point in time when you cannot. That’s dark, but it’s my birthday.
So let’s face facts: I’m supposed to be dead. I did all the things that people who end up dead do. But I’m not, to a variety of acclaim and disappointment. Through a combination of dumb luck, hard work, and a lot of love and help and understanding, I survived despite abysmal odds and the deepest wishes of my haters.
My odometer gets a new starting digit as I roll into forty this morning, engine check light brightly lit. I’m doing my best to embrace the icy cold breath of Death, sinking like fog down the back of my neck, as we dance hand-in-hand towards the void together.
I’ve been thinking about what is true this week. What are the lessons I’ve learned in my four decades on this planet that, in my head and my heart and my soul, I believe to be universal truths about you and me? Since I am a generous king, I decided to compile them in a list and give it to you as a gift on this day, the occasion of my birth.
You are annoying. It’s okay. Never try to not be. We are all annoying in some way, and some of us are annoying in many. People will love you, truly, and not in spite of how annoying you are but because of it. They will find themselves awake in the middle of night, hungry and craving your unique collection of flaws, your horrible laugh, and your endlessly awkward soul.
You should do the thing. But not the thing you’re thinking. I always see this as a capitalistic suggestion: “You should go on the vacation!” “You should buy the thing you don’t need and can’t afford!” But that’s not what I mean. I think you should do the thing that you secretly think and obsess about all the time and have never done. Write the short story and send it to your friends. Tell that stranger you love their cool shirt. Do five minutes of stand up. Learn how to grow something. The thing is what we’re alive to do.
You are what you eat. And I don’t mean just food. Pay attention to what the people in your orbit type and post and say and do and you will know their diet. Garbage in, garbage out; feed yourself right.
There are always more people rooting for you than you know. I’ve learned this again and again but it hit home recently. I went to my high school reunion a few years ago and something really struck me: a lot of people knew a lot about my life. You might say, “duh, you overshare and it’s a problem,” but hold on: the reason I noticed is because some of the people who were familiar with my work and my life were people who have never, ever reacted to a single thing I have ever posted, nor sent me a message or left me a comment. They were happy for me and supportive in their own way, but I had absolutely no idea that they cared I was still alive, much less followed my progress. But they did, and people do.
Knees are the fucking worst. Who invented those?
Honesty and vulnerability are superpowers. Favored flavors of mystery are overrated. Telling people the truth is how we connect to each other; being open and talking about difficult things is how we build conversations that cover more than the weather (though I do love talking about the weather). I ask a lot of questions but I could ask more; I answer questions deeply but I could always dig deeper.
Animals know everything. We ignore them at our own peril.
Humans think they know everything but more accurately know nothing. We listen to ourselves at our own peril.
Art and pop culture can be a system of belief. I wrote a whole book about this but the importance of both in my life will never be overstated. I owe my existence to art.
The world is chaos. We wish it weren’t and act accordingly. We count numbers and draw charts and trace patterns and build religions and speak of predictions and destiny and fate; I don’t know if things happen for a reason, but signs point to no. This reality is immeasurable and immensely complex; the world is too complicated to hold in any amount of boxes or hands. If this sounds like a bummer, you’re missing my point: I’m saying that every good thing in your life that has ever happened, every bright person and big dream and bold stroke of luck, came to you against boundless odds. There was no guarantee that any of it would happen. But it did, and it does, and we are the most charmed beings in the universe.
Everything doesn’t break down; everything changes. Matter isn’t created; it’s infinitely recycled, which is how we came to be made of stars.
Conflict is an essential part of life. When we get better at conflict, we get better at life. This is one of my biggest struggles and don’t confront me about it.
Knowing is better than not knowing. Make the appointment. Go to the doctor. Get your car checked. Do actual research beyond the first Google result (and past your own biases). We avoid things and it almost always ends in calamity.
You can never stop learning. I’ve said this a million times before but here it is once more with feeling: the old folks are those who think they know everything; the people who keep learning are forever young. You can be an ancient eighteen-year-old; you can be an eighty-year-old teenager.
You are what you do. I mean this relative to what you say. And that’s saying a lot coming from me, who deals in words. But my words would mean far less to you and me if I wasn’t trying to live up to them every day. If you say something but then do something different, you are the thing you did. Remember, though: you can always change what you do.
Service is how we survive. Creating a world in which we are there for each other, to support one another and care for one another, is the greatest achievement in the history of any species. Watching this concept go up in flames in our country over the past decade has been devastating to watch.
Kindness is everything. It has saved my life again and again, both through acts done to me and acts I give in universal reciprocation. I live my life trying to be plain and friendly and screw it up as much as I get it right, but I never stop trying.
We only have today. It’s a cliché for a reason. And it only gets more true the more you live here; I get less and less interested in saving anything. Saving it for what? Tomorrow doesn’t exist, at least not until it’s here, and it is never promised for anyone. I know. I’m more careful with my goals now, too. There’s nothing wrong with having goals, but if they interfere with you living today then there’s something fundamentally wrong with either the goal or your approach to it. If I feel like I can’t walk my dog because I have to get something else done, then that something else can go to hell. I don’t know the last time she and I will be under the same sun together, so I won’t waste any of the opportunities we can.
I’m sure there are other true things but these are what came to mind. Thank you for all the kind wishes (yes, even from my haters). May can be a rough month for me; I was born on the first, my mom was born on the last, and Mother’s Day sits waiting for me in the middle like a lioness in the tall grass. I miss my mom every day, but this month is the worst. Thanks for being my friend.
Listen to what I’m listening to: my 2025 Birthday Playlist is on YouTube:
My book Theia is a proud part of a long lineage of literature that uses animals to speak truth about ourselves.
Two of its biggest influences are two of my favorite books: Watership Down and Animal Farm. Due to the current state of our nation, I recently bought myself a new copy of Animal Farm and read it again out of necessity.
Damn it.
Comrade Napoleon is Donald J. Trump and this deeply insightful novella prophesied his future real-life rise and tyrannical reign back in 1946, the exact same year he was born.
And all this got me thinking about a semi-viral video I made the day after the election.
In it, I get pretty emotional about the results; it’s hilarious if you’re into that kind of thing. But a specific message I shared resonated with a lot of people; I learned this through countless comments and messages and talking about it in the real world. It’s the idea that so many of us were raised on pop culture, and it is so disheartening and devastating to watch a world choose Darth Vader, or Thanos, or Voldemort, or Lex Luthor as the person they want to lead and be an example of us as a country.
The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized I left something out.
I remember playing X-Men with my friends on the playground during recess in elementary school. The X-Men are famously metaphors for minorities and the oppressed; we understood that and vowed to never be the people who feared and hated their kind. We idolized Batman and Spider-Man, who didn’t kill or condemn criminals; quite the opposite, they championed the idea of rehabilitation.
We fought with the rebels in Star Wars; we stood with Hogwarts against bigotry and evil; we volunteered as tribute with Katniss in the Hunger Games; we assembled as Avengers to save the world together over and over again.
What I’m trying to say is: we fucking trained for this.
And we have failed so tremendously.
We saw all the bad guys in our media and said: “I would never stand by that. I would be the good guy. I would do what’s right.”
And at least half of us not only did not understand the assignment, but joined the Empire willingly.
So here’s what I propose to all of you: dust off that favorite thing of yours and read or watch it this weekend. Think about the lessons it taught you and the person you thought you would grow up to be.
And see how close you are now.
Napoleon the pig is Donald the president, and it was cleverly delivered to us in 141 pages or 72 minutes, depending on your entertainment preference. Art distills life and rebuilds us, it informs us and allows us to think and feel deeper than we could without it; art shows us the beauty and horror of this world and reminds us who we want to be.
We, the people, are a long line of violence and bigotry and hatred; we, the people, are a long line of kindness and brilliance and love. We choose which every single day.
There is a lot going on in the world, and it’s difficult for me to pick up a single thread and follow it through in a meaningful way, especially when the people in charge insist on tangling every wire we own.
I’m not about to start targeting every person on my feed who is suddenly very cool with both authoritarian rule and Nazi beliefs for reasons any sane person can’t grasp, because that would be like shooting fish in a barrel that is obvious to everyone but them, and I’m trying to keep my social space free of stink.
But I do want to write about something today that could not be closer to my heart: autism, or ASD (autism spectrum disorder).
Specifically, let’s talk about the recent CDC study that suggests approximately 1 in 31 U.S. children will be diagnosed as on the spectrum.
My kid, one of the best humans I have ever met, is one of them.
The English version of the word “autism,” according to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, did not enter the human lexicon until 1943, in a paper by Leo Kanner. The oldest known remains of a homo sapien dates back about 300,000 years (but we as a species may have been here as long as 550,000 to 750,000 years ago).
This means, if I’m doing my math right, that the first case of autism, as we define and call it, was found in 1943, after at least 301,943 years of absolutely no cases.
Well, damn. It sure has grown since. Crazy how there was no autism back then.
Humans are obsessed with boxes. Obsessed. We need our things to be organized, we need to name them, we need to recognize patterns, we need life to be binary or, you guys, we’re totally going to lose our shit. The thing about nature that is so mysterious and wonderful and perfect is that it does not give any fucks about our ideas. It does what it does and we struggle to keep up.
But we insist. We make smaller and smaller boxes and more specific labels and sometimes it helps and sometimes it hurts. In the case of ASD, I would say that the increased labeling helps; recognizing specific differences in thinking and behavior will help an individual get the care and resources they need.
But it will also increase the cases, just like inventing the first box of autism did.
We are more informed as a species now than we have ever been. We don’t live in the dark when it comes to the process of diagnosis; we know how to find shit out.
There was no way we were not going to find so many more neurodivergent people. With it being such a wide spectrum, I’m not sure I know many neurotypicals. Do you think every social expectation is natural and all human interaction feels good? As we get to know a person, they reveal the way they think to us more, and who doesn’t have divergent qualities? I’ve long argued that more of us (myself included) do, and the boxes will find us.
Now let’s talk about RFK Jr., one of the worst possible people in general but especially to have the job that he has. He is anti-science, through and through; if anyone writes in a comment “But he just wants us to eat healthy food!”, get the fuck out of here. He is not a single sound bite. None of us are. Saying the most obvious thing that anyone can say reveals nothing about your character; constantly denying and even lying about science says everything about who he actually is.
Let’s play a game where we explore what happens whether RFK Jr. is telling the truth or not about the causes of autism; today he claims autism is a disease caused by environmental factors, specifically toxins.
If what he’s saying is false, then every scientific study we’ve conducted on autism so far is correct, because none of the credible studies even suggest this. I am all for continuing research to see if any of this could be true, but right now, it’s not.
Ah, but what if he’s telling the truth? Well, explain it to me like I’m dumb: if this is all about caring for the environment and living healthier, then why has his president rolled back countless environmental protections and taken us out of the Paris Agreement while giving oil companies (who donated $445 million to his last campaign, per The Guardian) even more room (and tax breaks) to annihilate this planet and its people? That’s how RFK Jr. and Trump think we’re going to get healthy? Like, mind, body, and soul healthy? With… more toxins?
Come on, conspiracy theorists: I’m sure you got a good reason buried somewhere in that polluted swamp of cognitive dissonance.
As researched so far, autism is not a disease. It doesn’t come from vaccines. It is not preventable. It’s a part of who a person is. It’s not who my son is, but it’s a part of him, too.
I love him like crazy. I love so many people on the spectrum and I won’t stand for those who lie about them, or lie for those who lie.
I mentioned how informed we are earlier; we have more access to good information than any humans before us. It’s amazing! And yet so many of us continue to consume trash and speak trash and type trash, cycling infinite garbage in and garbage out to cover for our ignorance and biases that are apparent to everyone but ourselves.
Stop it.
For real. Just knock it the fuck off.
If you don’t know something, admit it! It’s okay! There’s so much I don’t know! Let’s learn together!
But what I cannot do is listen to this disorder of knowingness anymore. That’s the actual disease. I can’t keep seeing people mistake confidence for truth or decency. And I think it’s past time to have to convince adults that you don’t just educate yourself once in childhood and then you’re done; real adults know that learning is a lifelong process, and it takes real talk and real work to get there.
The Den 