I would hurl words into this darkness and wait for an echo,
and if an echo sounded, no matter how faintly,
I would send other words to tell, to march, to fight,
to create a sense of hunger for life that gnaws in us all.
~Richard Wright, American Hunger, 1977


Writing this blog, reading all your remarks and comments, it really inspires me. I thought I’d get my fix from just filling this blog with updates, showcases, photographs, and old writings— but that’s not cutting it anymore. I’m going to start writing things specifically for the blog, maybe an ongoing story where I’ll post parts of it as I go along with it. Something to keep you guys satisfied, huh?

Not that I don’t write enough on my own time. Currently, in addition to updating this blog every two days, I’m working on an essay for Naval Science on the effectiveness of Littoral Combat Ships (LCS) against asymmetric wartime threats…

Definitely not as exciting as it sounds. But, its the first writing competition offered to college NROTC unit’s (with a prize of a $1000), so I might as well give it a shot. If I win, I plan on using it to buy however many copies of my own book it can afford when it finally does comes out, and go door to door… just kidding.

But there are schemes in the making. Maya Goldberg, pictured below, is the self-appointed Public Relations Maya Goldberg. PR Manager.Manager of Terence Sanders; she’s going to plan mass media marketing, book signings, contracts with local indie book stores, a viral marketing campaign utilizing a nationwide scavenger hunt, and of course, chalking up the sidewalks of Tulane University with information.

Haha, I’m kidding. Maya didn’t really say she was going to do all that. But she mention she wanted to help me spread the word about my book and this is how it happens: people in my life stepping up, taking time out of their day to remind me that they’re rooting for me. Maya started her first promotion effort, by the way, with a public announcement of my upcoming book at the M.G. Socialite Breakfast club, located at the far end of Tulane University’s Bruff Dining Facilities, every morning at 10:00 am.

If you’re doing anything extraordinary (even slightlymorethan-ordinary) please shoot me an email, a picture, and tell me what you’re doing to help out your favorite starving author.

My shout out comes a little late to these guys, but tonight is the last night of the New Orleans rock band, The City Life. There’s a farewell show tonight at One Eye’d Jacks downtown, doors open at 9:00 pm, show starts at 10:00pm.   Click the picture to hear some of their songs!citylifeband

If anyone has paid attention to anything I’ve said, it’s clear that I’m a huge fan of indie rock bands, musicians doing it on their own terms.

This was the band to get my interest started in the indie rock scene here in the Crescent City, with their showing at Indie Rock Fest back when I first got to this new, strange world I’ve come to understand, New Orleans. With his vibrant red kicks, and some seriously solid original songs— White Elephant is staple on my IPOD, as is No Snow for the Cold, both available on their single White Elephant on Itunes for $1.98— they effectively stunned me.

Life changing is strong word, and no they didn’t show me the way to Jesus, they didn’t perform any miracles or do any ridiculous favors for me. But the City Life opened the first door to music scene in New Orleans for me, and I have spent many weekends out listening at shows and concerts rather than wasting away. I don’t live the same, I don’t write the same, and most of all— I don’t listen to music the same.

I come to a fork in this wooded road,
And what to do escapes my simple mind…
So I just take the way that seems the least wrong.
Seems the least wrong.

No Snow for the Cold, The City Life.

Go to the show.
Go get their music.
Their flame burns low, but burns forever.


I’m not a fan of cigarettes. I don’t crusade advertising the flaws of the smokers, because its more of a personal decision than an agenda to save the world.

However, I did write this when I was younger.


Cyanide; quite the sugar rush
And many worst things within
Poison wrapped in flattened-oaks,
Filtered through is sin.
I’m self-orchestrated suicide—
You sell me to your youth.
No qualms of moral code, I’m just
Addiction. That’s the truth.
Quite permanent, I’ll paint it black,
An artist on your lungs.
I shadow-sketched those scars myself,
First verse of cancer sung.
So hold me close. And breathe it in.
My fumes will ease your stress.
I’m self-orchestrated suicide
And you’ll light me nonetheless.