Death Metal Epic (Book Two: Goat Song Sacrifce)
Black metal juggernaut Desekration stand poised to record their forthcoming masterwork … once David and Svart get a few more dudes to join the band.
Book Two of The Death Metal Epic finds David Fosberg living his rock and roll fantasy. Which means drinking every day and sleeping on Svart’s couch.
His mom’s couch. Svart lives at home.
David has left Miami behind. Left the Bard behind. And joined forces with Svart, a brutish nekrowarrior who only listens to, like, Celtic Frost, Destruction, and Bathory. The early stuff.
As Desekration start to record Infernö, David’s bandmates rail on about the mystic power of something they call “The Goat Song.” And what they’ll sacrifice to play it.
Justin Grimbol returns with a book of dialogue poems as hilarious as they are heartfelt.
Come Home, We Love You Still
Abraham Koyfman is a widower of nine months. He works from home selling subliminal self-help tapes for a questionable doctor he found in an ad in the back of a magazine. His meager retirement is enough now that he’s alone and Abraham is ready to quit his job—a task proving to be difficult due to the company’s tactics. The combination of grief and the lack of empathy from his adult children have him ready to quit life, also. On the day he reaches the breaking point his friend Horace pays an unexpected visit with his new girlfriend. Horace’s remedy for Abraham’s plight is to party hard, act juvenile, and take a road trip to confront the doctor in charge of the work from home scam. But will an insufferable friend, a bad case of misanthropy, and the absurdity of modern technology and its sociocultural impact make Abraham’s situation better?
Life isn’t easy for Eddie Grimboli. Marriage isn’t easy. Winter isn’t easy. Being fat isn’t easy. He can see up his dad’s nightgown. There is strange magic up there. If he stares long enough, he will see his future. This book is a celebration of sloppiness, marriage, grief, love, and being naked.
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David Fosberg plays guitar in Valhalla. But don’t worry: this is no jukebox hero saga of his rise to fame and fortune.
Valhalla’s a death metal band. From Florida.
And the rest of the guys just quit. There’s not a lot of money in metal hymns to the Elder Gods.
If David can record another album, Plutonic Records will send him on a two week tour to promote it.
Where people like metal.
Outside: something resembling Godzilla attacks the city. At the party, ‘Faith’ by George Michael is playing and someone is telling you to consider changing apartments.
Advance Praise for Mastodon Farm
“I’d rank this book up there with Fabulous Nobodies and I Pass Like Night, both books that I’ll never forget the experience of reading.”
-Ken Sparling, author of Dad Says He Saw You At The Mall
“It is like watching TV for 12 hours on a Saturday / a blur of desert-palm trees-James Franco-helicopter noise / the brain of the TV watcher encapsulated.”
-Noah Cicero, author of Best Behavior
“In his impressive debut novel, Mike Kleine fingers the asterisk of pop culture by turns absurd, matted, and outré-familiar. Mastodon Farm lays bare the smooth fiction of mediatized reality.”
-D. Harlan Wilson, author of Hitler: The Terminal Biography
“You feel delirious reading Mastodon Farm. You freak out a little. You change genders. You listen to Tangerine Dream. You drive a Ferrari. You have a good time. You read it again. You read it again.”
-Nick Antosca, author of Fires
“Mastodon Farm is about you. You are wealthy and only associate with famous people. Mike Kleine has written your life. His language is stripped down, but your story is dense… [Think] Samuel Beckett, Tao Lin, Bret Easton Ellis.”
-Bradley Sands, author of Rico Slade Will Fucking Kill You