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karl

karl koweski


Last Updated: 5/21/2009

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Gender: Male
Status: Married
Age: 34
Sign: Scorpio

City: GUNTERSVILLE
State: ALABAMA
Country: US
Signup Date: 1/25/2005

Blog Archive
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Thursday, May 21, 2009 
I always preface these fucking blogs by commenting how long it's been since my last update, but I'm not going to do that here today.  It's been a long time, though.  Times been slipping by so fast and I'm getting old, starting to lose my hair...  So if I've lost contact with you the last few months (year?) I apologize.  Drop me a line. 

I'm excited.  With summer approaching, BBQ season is night, beginning this Sunday with the first Pope cookout/volleyball tournament extravaganza where I remind every one of my amazing physical prowess.  Hopefully I won't break my foot this year.  I know it's going to take at least six beers in order to dull the memory of that horrible incident allowing me to play to my full veritable god-like ability.  Fuckin lop-sided ground.

Last weekend was a fantastic time.  I got to see Elvis Perkins in Dearland perform at the Bottletree in Birmingham, Alabama.  It's a sweet little venue full of nice people and a pretty good Viking Funeral.  Now I'm not one for sweet potato fries and meatless chili and all, but it didn't suck and I lost three pounds during the course of the weekend.  Also, I ate an avocado for the first time.  And I got to hang out a little back stage and meet Elvis Perkins and the band.  Beautiful people, let me tell you.  Really down-to-earth.  Fantastic musicians.  Looking at Elvis Perkins, I could almost concede that this man was almost as groovy as me.  I think my six foot vertical leap helps me edge him out, though.  Where my people come from, the sand pits of Poland's Zsawnobski section, vertical leaping trumps guitar playing any fucking day of the week.

as far as business goes, I've got a bunch of stuff in the pipe, including a full length collection of short stories, Blood and Greasepaint.  I've got a few poems here and there, including www.outsiderwriters.org  and Scot Young's Rusty Truck blog. 

And I'd be remiss not to mention that the talented Melissa Hansen's first chapbook is available from Joseph Veronneau's Scintillating Press.  I don't have the link on me, but if you go to Melissa's website, www.melissahansen.net you can find the link.  I urge you to order a book from this excellent press (they've also published my book Mutually Assured Destruction)  I read the pdf file of Melissa's manuscript to blurb her work and it's one of the strongest, most self-assured, debut collections I've ever read.  So impressed am I with this collection that for the first time ever, I will offer the first five people who sends me a picture posing with Melissa's chapbook and some proof of purchase to my karlkoweski@hotmail address I will send you a rare Rusty Kuntz baseball card from my astounding collection of Rusty Kuntz memorabilia.  Act now! 
Sunday, March 15, 2009 
Come to find out I didn't have to beware the Ides of March, I had to watch out for the three weeks preceding it.  My troubles began with my brand new computer (Dell) burning out a processor.  So now it's a paperweight.  Those goddam Hindus in Monglodesh who answer customer service and tech calls have not been very supportive in getting me back online.  The problem is, I get one set of jackasses telling me I'm getting a new computer.  Then a different set of jackasses telling me they're going to send out another tech person to change out parts they changed out before, those parts being the motherboard, RAM and video card.  Techs have been out here three times, each visit ends with a Hindu on the phone telling me I'll be getting a new computer.  I'm telling you, Pakistan can't bomb those cocksuckers quick enough.    So I plug in my old computer... and the hard drive crashes.  So I'm having no luck.  But fuck all that...  I don't want to use my monthly blog update to bitch about computer problems.  No, what I want to do right now is review a movie I saw last week called Watchmen.  So without further ado, here's my Watchmen review:
                                     

               The Blue Dong<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />....

                      ....

For years now, I’ve been a fan of the Watchmen graphic novel (or comic book book as I like to call them) so I’d been looking forward to the movie adaptation since it was announced Zack Snyder was taking the reigns.  It was going to be an interesting trick; taking a superhero story, perhaps one of the most complicated superhero stories ever written, condense it and package it for a mainstream audience.  Watchmen writer Alan Moore claimed it was unfilmable.  But just ask Boxing Helena’s director, nothing’s unfilmable, just unwatchable.....

.. ..

I thought the film was exceptional.  But there’s been enough said about Jackie Earle Haley’s stellar performance as Rorshach.  Jeffrey Dean Morgan’s eerie channeling of The Comedian.  I even liked Matthew Goode’s rendition of Ozymandias.  And yes I know his accent came and went, but it’s all in character.  Ozymandias being the smartest man in the world, of course, he’s going to put on airs and be pretentious.  Hell, I’m only the smartest man in <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />....Alabama...., and I like to talk with a French accent sometimes.  But what I really want to talk about in this review is Doctor Manhattan’s big blue glowing cock.  Or ..Lower Manhattan.. as it’s sometimes referred to.....

.. ..

I feel secure enough in my machismo dripping heterosexuality to address the issue of Watchmen’s most prominent member.  For those of you not in the know, Jon Osterman was involved in a physics experiment gone away where he was disintegrated in an intrinsic field.  When his atoms reassembled he was glowing blue, with godlike powers.  And a cock roughly the size of a baby elephant trunk.  We know this as the audience because he spends most of the movie buck ass nekkid.....

.. ..

Now, I don’t get giggly at nudity in my movies.  Too much porn has inured me to the site of full frontal nudity.  But Doc Manhattan’s azure anaconda smacks of overkill.  Then again, this film was directed by the dude who made 300 where every fucking Spartan had a six pack.  Now, call me crazy, but surely to god one of those Spartans blew off the thousand crunches a day.  Did Leonidas have the Spartans line up and say… “ok, we’re off to seek a glorious death… Gutticus, you can’t come, you’re looking a little bloated… this ain’t a buffet, This…is… ....SPARTA....!”....

.. ..

Zack Snyder carried around the Watchmen comic book book throughout the filming, calling it his bible.  Well, if he looks closely at the comic (which judging by his attention to background detail, he did) he would see that Doctor Manhattan is not gifted in the genitals in the book.  In fact, his testicles hang lower than his shaft.  Somewhere along the line, Snyder had to say… “nope, Doc Manhattan needs a bigger dick.  And not just an average size cock…he needs the sort of dick that will strike fear in the hearts of men.”....

.. ..

It’s not really a problem, unless you take into account, the new, larger cock totally effects the story.  In the movie as well as the comic book book, Nite Owl has a problem getting it up when he’s about to fuck Doctor Manhattan’s ex-girlfriend, The Silk Spectre.  Now, in the comic, Nite Owl’s impotence is linked to his need to have his costume to feel like a man.  In the movie, you know that he’s sitting there thinking, here I am about to fuck her, and her ex-boyfriend’s cock is three times my size.  I’m gonna be lucky if I touch the sides.  So he has a hard time getting hard.  Of course he redeems himself a little bit later in the movie, but that’s only because Silk Spectre gets nekkid except for a pair of thigh high leather boots which will get a corpse hard.....

.. ..

One character’s impotence may not mean much to the general story, but I posit the ending was greatly influenced by the length and girth of Doctor Manhattan’s cinematic cerulean cock. Slight spoiler alert here.  If you haven’t seen the movie but intend to do so.  The comic book book hits its climax with Ozymandias summoning a giant alien squid whose sonic death cry kills three million people in ....new york.....  Granted, alien squid sonic death cries don’t go over well in movies.  But in the movie, Ozymandias blows up cities world wide using Doctor Manhattan’s energy signature, pretty much putting all the blame on Doc.  Why?  Because Doctor Manhattan has a gigantic cock.  If I was the smartest man in the world and there was this smug superhero walking around nekkid all the time parading his John Holmesian cock all around, I’d use him as the linchpin of my nefarious schemes as well.....

.. ..

What really irks me though, are those fan girls in the internet message boards who say things like… “I didn’t think his dick was that big”.  Holy shit!  I’d hate to run into these ladies in a dark bedroom.  Are they virgins?  Are their only conception of dick relegated to porn and Watchmen?  A guy like me… A slightly above average guy like me, doesn’t have a chance.....

.. ..

So, yeah, in hindsight, I hated the fucking Watchmen.  Thank you, Zack Snyder and your team of penile enhancing computer nerds.....

.. ..

.. ..
 

Saturday, February 14, 2009 
I've been lax in updating, of course.  it seems anything interesting that's occurred lately I work into a story or poem.  I'm back on day shift at the factory.  The reason for this is there was a massive lay-off.  A little less than half the guys on the floor were cut.  Men who'd worked for the company thirty years were shown the door.  How did I survive the cut when I'm obviously a lazy motherfucker? you ask.  I have no idea.  I think it could have had something to do with my Polish good looks.  it's not so easy to toss away pretty when there's so much ugliness about.  Perhaps it's because I'm intolerably underpaid for the work I was theorhetically capable of performing.  Maybe I survived on the brute force of my magnificent and occasionally prehensile moustache.  Occasionally prehensile?  While I've never actually witnessed my moustache latch on to anything, there's been times where I'll find myself chewing on a French fry from the plate of the person seated beside me with no memory of grabbing the potato stick with my fingers.  This has also happened with popcorn, fruit chews, pens, and a Philly cheesesteak sammich.
I'm glad I'm still employed when so many others are losing their jobs.  Especially when I consider the factory I work is only a ten minute drive from my mobile mansion.  To find a similar job for a similar wage I'd have to drive 45 minutes to an hour (one way) for a job in Huntsville.  So while I despise the work I think I'll hang on to it until they throw me out the door kicking and screaming.
The writing has been going well.  Got a couple more stories lined up for Ruthies Club.  My latest Observations of a Dumb Polack column is up at the resurrected www.zygoteinmycoffee.com.  I'm the featured poet at www.thepoetrywarrior.com which only makes sense since I'm the only writer among all you sumbitches who has written a chapbook of poetry and slayed three Visigoths with a battleaxe in the last calendar year.  The link to my work on poetry warrior had been fucked up, but it's been corrected and all the poems are available to be read.  Also, I'm in the middle of compiling and editing stories for a full length short story collection for Wolfgang's Epic Rites press.  So start saving your pennies.
As far as Valentine's Day goes.  I had planned to see Bridget the Midget strip at Dreamgirls tonight, but apparently the wife wants to go out to eat in order to celebrate our romance or some shit.  I'm thinking about taking her to dine at the restraunt next to Dreamgirls (Pasquale's Diner, I think it's called) and then pulling some Jack Tripper/Three's Company shit where I excuse myself to the bathroom every five minutes so I can throw dollar bills at a nekkid midget.  My raging cocaine addiction should be able to grease my egress.
wish me luck
Friday, January 02, 2009 

I had a pretty good new  year's eve.  Ordinarily I like to spend new year's eve sulking over past failures and torture myself with the future's limited options.  But this year I decided to have a few friends over to play card games.  And I'm glad I did, too.  I didn't once think about the Wal-Mart cashier with the rictus scar curling up from the snarled right side of her lip, up her cheek toward her lobe-less ear who spurned my sexual advances because I told her I wanted to dress her up in some purple and green lingerie and paint her face white and black.  I'd NEVER been shot down by a dog-bit woman before, and to tell you the truth, it kinda fucked with my self esteem.  But anyway, I enjoyed myself and drank some wine from a winery in Gatlinberg, Tennessee.  Let me tell you something about that... just because someone can make wine, doesn't mean they should.  Now, I'm no snooty critic; truth be told I couldn't tell the difference between a merlot, a pinot noir or a fuckin Wild Irish Rose (unless it was written on the label) but I can tell you that after a single quaff, I was able to ascertain the year and vintage of the antifreeze the grapes were mixed with.  2003, K-Mart brand.  Koweski lesson number 155: never drink wine the same shade of green as the rejuvenation juice from the movie ReAnimator. 

I have a new Messages From The Exiled King of Poland column up at www.epicrites.org.  I know over there they prefer the writers write in blood, but this one is written in cum.  With maybe a little blood... in the cum... And while you're at it, stop by www.guttereloquence.com.  There's two of my poems in it, but more importantly, there's a bunch of good poems by a bunch of good people.  And I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the second journal from Epic Rites is online as well.

Also, it's no secret that Zygote is back up and running.  I'm retaining my post as co-editor.  Which I'm happy for.  And we've got big plans and a major overhaul in mind for the new year.  Issue six of the print edition will be available very soon.

oh shit, I almost forgot to mention.  Donald Westlake, three time Edgar award winner, and pretty much along with Elmore Leonard (who's getting up there) the grandfather of modern crime fiction.   If you read at least one Westlake novel this year, your life will be improved for it.  He died from a heart attack the other day.  he was 75.  just a great, great writer.  Danielle Steel will probably live to be a 150.

Tuesday, December 30, 2008 

Here's a listing of the books I read during the course of the year.

The Flash of Lightning Behind The Mountain....   Charles Bukowski
Watch Your Back!    ...   Donald Westlake
Trailer Park     ...    Russell Banks
Sabbath's Theater   ...   Philip Roth
The Professor of Desire   ...   Philip Roth
Portnoy's Complaint    ...   Philip Roth
Slam    ...   Nick Hornby
What's Not To Love   ...   Jonathan Ames
Goodbye, Columbus    ...   Philip Roth
Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry   ...  Richard Unekis
Mister B Gone    ...   Clive Barker
A Feast of Snakes    ...  Harry Crewes
Kingdom of Fear   ....  Hunter S Thompson
The Children of Men    ...   P D James
Cocaine Nights    ...    J G Ballard
Duma Key   ... Stephen King
Hannibal Rising   ...    Thomas Harris
Light In August   ...    William Faulkner
Make Love The Bruce Campbell Way  ...  Bruce Campbell
Election   ...   Tom Perrotta
Purity of Blood   ...   Arturo Perez-Reverte
A Pirate Looks At Fifty  ...   Jimmy Buffett
Old Flames   ...   Jack Ketchum
Bandits   ...    Elmore Leonard
Trust Me On This  ...   Donald Westlake
Captain Alatriste    ...   Arturo Perez-Reverte
The Rum Diary   ...   Hunter S Thompson
Two For The Money   ...   Max Allan Collins
Stick  ...   Elmore Leonard
Sunset and Sawdust    ....  Joe R Lansdale
Different Seasons   ....    Stephen King
Gonzo   ...   Jann Wenner and Corey Seymour
The Pleasures of the Damned   ...   Charles Bukowski
I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell  ....  Tucker Max
The Abstinence Teacher   ...   Tom Perrotta
How I Became Stupid   ...   Martin Page
20th Century Ghosts   ...   Joe Hill
Adolf in Wonderland   ...   Carlton Melick III
Rant   ...   Chuck Palahniuk
Lost Highway  ....   Richard Curry
You Suck   ...   Christopher Moore
Down and Out On Murder Mile   ...   Tony O'Neill
Continental Drift   ...   Russell Banks
Little Girl Lost   ... Richard Aleas

Friday, December 19, 2008 

I got a big kick outta seeing the President ducking outta the way of flying shoes.  He's got some fucking reflexes.  I know that many have asked how the journalist was able to throw a second shoe before he was stopped.    After reviewing the tape, though, I believe there was a second shoer.  Watch the tape.  You'll see the President go down and to the right, down and to the right, down and to the right.  And then the second shoe, what I like to call the magic loafer, enters the frame.

I can't believe it's been over a month since I've updated.  Damn.  In my defense I've been working the night shift and it has been killing me.  And by killing me I mean, disrupting my sleep patterns and souring my creativity.  That said, I've been working on a new short story that takes place in a masturbation rehabilitation clinic.  Sorta like a One Spewed Over the Cuckoos Nest.  Except shorter.  And not as film worthy.

Check out www.epicrites.org for my story "Perogi Queens and the Polish Precision Lawnmower Team" under my Messages From The Exiled King of Poland column.  Also at www.calliopenerve.blogspot.com I have a short story called Ben John NeSmith's Top Five Haunted Places in the World.  It's worth checking out. 

Friday, November 07, 2008 

there's a nice review of my latest chapbook, Industrial Strip.

Jack Henry reviewed the hell out of it, I'm proud to say.

Go to www.outsiderwriters.org to read the review.

then go to www.covertpress.com to purchase the chapbook.

Friday, November 07, 2008 

I'm now featured at www.epicrites.org

check in regularly as we'll be putting up new chapters of my novel-in-waiting-to-be-written, KNUCKLE SOCIETY.

Tuesday, November 04, 2008 

strange days here at the mountaintop hovel.  The crazy ex-mother-in-law next door (the one who blew a hole through her trailer ceiling with a 16 gauge while I was on her roof with a couple high powered flashlights and a slide whistle pretending to be a UFO) came running down to the trailer directly after coming home from her church of snake-handling, demon-exorcising renegade baptists, screaming that Obama was the antichrist.  "He's gonna legalize abortion!"  She caterwauled.  "There's gonna be queers marrying in the streets!  And then the world's gonna end!"   The world's gonna end struck a familiar chord.  I'd been hearing this shit since Y2K when the computers were suppose to come to a crashing halt enabling the queers to make a mockery outta the sacred vow of matrimony.  Seeing my kids hiding under the kitchen table in terror kinda pissed me off so I decided to prick her bubble with a couple barbs I like to refer to as truth and logic.  "First off, woman, abortion is legal."  "No it ain't, neither, it ain't ever right to kill a young'un for it even got the chance to be borned."  "Secondly, it's the state decision whether or not to legalize gay marriage".  "No it ain't, neither, that Obama Devil is gonna end the world.  It says so in the bible."   "What?"  "The bible.  It says Obama's gonna come outta nowhere and he's gonna end the world with his Muslim idoltry."  "I missed that part."  "Shore nuff did.  Anyone voting for that $*%@ ain't no Christian at all and they's goin straight to hell!"   "So you're voting for McCain and that crazy bitch?"  Here, she got the tremors like she just got snakebit... "No, I ain't neither.  I didn't register."  "You think the antichrist is gonna get elected and you can't be bothered to register to vote?"  "I ain't worried... I'm goin straight to heaven in the rapture anyways."   So....  there you have it.  That was my Sunday afternoon.  My five year old all ready thinks Obama won the presidency cause he won the Nickolodeon kid's choice.  Jared's ecstatic.  Not because he's the first black president, or the first elected antichrist (second if you include Bush) but because he sounds like he's a star wars character.

 

Sunday, November 02, 2008 

One of my latest (nonporn) stories "Nervous Harold and the Implausible Impala Incident" is now up and available to read at www.vagabondagepress.com  

Also, beginning this week I'll have an office at www.epicrites.org where my second novel Knuckle Society will be serialized there starting again with chapter one.  I'll also have the odd poem and stand alone story posted there from time to time.  I'll update here.  The next chapter of Knuckle Society is finished.  I'm going to shop it around as a stand alone story.  Thinking about calling it Yadisfield.

My latest chapbook "Industrial Strip" is available at www.covertpress.com.  People seem to be enjoying it.  Support the small press... which is a polite way of saying support me because ain't no one gonna wanna publish my collections if there ain't no one willing to part with some hard earned cash to read it.