I have a confession to make: Dark Randomosity is quite misleading.

Some disillusioned bastards may read these posts and assume I’m a master comedian. Most probably think, “Well, that’s ten minutes of my life I’ll never get back.” Yet others may despise my attempts at humor so much that they’re plotting my demise in a stunning George-R.-R.-Martin fashion.

(Can I please get two and a half minutes with Ygritte before you chop off my bits, though?)

Anyone unfamiliar with my work outside Dark Randomosity may be put off (or extremely relieved) to learn my novels, short stories, and the majority of my poetry are much more serious in nature. *Don’t believe me? Catch the teaser excerpt at the end of this post.

There’s a reason for that, and no, it’s not insanity.

Two Different Media…

Though I’ve posted a few more serious topics here, this blog was designed to be more accessible than my other writing forms. At times, more personal. A little more informal. And not so goddamn serious.

When it comes to other forms of writing, however, I try to encompass a wider spectrum of the human experience. There may be a few chuckle-worthy character exchanges or thoughts thrown in, along with fleeting dashes of hope and faith, miniscule doses of romance and love.

But most of my work depicts situations which aren’t laughing matters.

 

…Two Different Styles

My novels occur after a worldwide vampire apocalypse. My rare short stories tend to illuminate societal hypocrisies. My poems often explore euthanasia and death.

These are often tales of impending doom, where stakes raise faster than George Takei’s cock did when Brokeback Mountain premiered.

Violence, depression, gore, torture—I don’t want you to laugh at these things.

I want you to be disgusted. Repulsed. Wary.

I want you to feel cobwebs and unseen fingers graze your skin. I want you to wince as if a needle entered your own vein and not some fictional character’s. I want menace and anxiety and depression to drip into your soul. I want the literal darkness and ghastly, blood-soaked body parts to resonate in your mind’s eye. I want you to see and hear hair-raising nighttime noises or saws grinding against bone.

I want to make you as uncomfortable as possible.

To me, that coldness that burrows into and festers within the pit of your stomach epitomizes the human experience. Without it, we could not appreciate love and happiness and faith and hope and all that warm, fuzzy shit.

Don’t get it twisted, now: There should be happy endings and fairy tales and poignant moments of reflection and all that other literary bullshit we’re force-fed during high school English classes.

I just prefer to damper the mood.

Random Wrap-Up

If my shoddy attempts at humor here on Dark Randomosity elicit a chuckle from one person, I’m content. If it makes a handful of you poor, poor suckers grit your teeth as you try to read yet another not-so-fucking-funny meme or sentence, I’m content.

And if you’re really contemplating the most exciting way to kill me, you need medicinal marijuana and a self-hugging white jacket, stat.

Just keep in mind this isn’t my go-to writing style. I’d rather send chills down your spine or make you contemplate life and death.

Not here, though. I want you to feel like you’re at home on Dark Randomosity.

Stay tuned. There’s more randomosity coming soon.

JO

Teaser Excerpt, The Human-Undead War: Patriarch

 

          He wrenched the human’s broken left arm from its socket. It crunched and popped like a pulled turkey wing. He held the red, bleeding meat above his head and tilted his chin up. Blood poured into his open mouth. When the flow dissipated, he grabbed the twitching wrist with one hand and then squeezed with the other hand, working his way down the arm. Blood oozed out, along with strands of muscle, fat, cartilage, and broken blood vessels. He gulped it all down, relishing the multitude of flavors and textures.

          When the last drop dribbled onto his chin, he tossed the arm atop the pile of gore at his feet. He smiled, his teeth temporarily stained red.

          Rending a human limb from limb was messy, but much more satisfying than a simple nibble on a vein.