Happy Fucking Birthday to me

*Not actually me or my mother's vagina*

It's July 8th, which means that 37 years ago my mother was in agony and horrible, disgusting things were spewing from her swollen and ruined vagina. One of those horrible and disgusting things was me. It was a hot summers day in 1976 when I came into the world and even though I can't be sure, I imagine lighting crashed and killed a virgin somewhere close by. Hell wept and heaven shuddered a collective gasp and the world would never be the same again.
I came into this world naked, screaming, and covered in someone else's blood which is exactly how I want to leave it. I am sure there will be the flash of gunfire and cordite will fill the air, terrified on-lookers will watch in horror as I am shot down in a hail of bullets and then someone who doesn't know me will look into a TV camera and tell the stoic reporter that I was such a nice, quite neighbor. Then one of my drunken friends will interrupt and push the innocent witness away, probably with a hand to the face, and tell the shocked audience that he always knew I would die like this.
But enough about the future, what about the now?

I don't really get the birthday thing. Why do we celebrate the fact that we were born at all? Every day we don't die is enough reason to celebrate but most people don't live enough to make anything worth celebrating. Most people don't live life to the fullest so why should they take time out to commemorate their birth? Why should they get to feel special one day when they live the other 364 like it's expected?
I've been almost killed several times. Mostly it's something stupid I did to myself but a few times it was someone else that took my death into their own hands. I don't use this as a reason or excuse to live my life every day, but it's good enough. I know what's waiting for me on the other side. I make no delusions about it but why should I let that slow me down? If anything it should speed me up and get me psyched to run out and get covered in someone else's blood. Not to the inevitable hail of gunfire, but just for shits and giggles.

But I don't, no matter how much I want to. Instead I write about it. I write about blood and gore and sex and perversion because I like it. I love it. I want some more of it. None of us have enough perversion, pain, or pleasure in their lives. None of us walk that dark road enough and get into dangerous adventures. None of us look into the empty eyes of the reaper and laugh.
But I am going to start. Care to come along on a ride down the highway to hell with me?



I write, it's what I do and what I always wanted to do. I've been working at it for nearly 30 years. I have more than 40 books available all over the inter-webs and in print, but the one I want you to buy and read is Paranormal Reality. I'm really proud of it and I want it to do well. Instead of buying me a gift, please just pick up Paranormal Reality.
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On Writing Toxic Leash

Writing Toxic Leash

Christian Jensen

It wasn't supposed to be like this. This book had actually started life as something else. To make it more interested, the entire idea of a collaboration between Cassandre Dayne and myself was supposed to be something else entirely.
It all started on a rainy Wednesday morning. I had called Cassandre to talk business. We discussed publishing, self publishing, publishers, marketing, and all the other nooks and crannies of this insane industry. An idea was formed and what two authors would be better suited to work as partners then her and I? We are both ridiculously prolific and strive for success so complete it borders on domination.
Domination is another central theme with us, but that's another story...
So we started out on Toxic Leash and something remarkable happened. The book took on a life of it's own and the characters ran away with the story. Cass and I tore through the story like a couple of rabid hyenas until nothing was left but the marrow-less bones.
Even while we were writing it we both knew this was the kind of book that people would either love or hate. They would cry and beg for mercy although none would ever be granted, and when they reached the last line of the last page their lives would be different than when the reader so casually began.
We asked a very good friend of ours, Shon Medley, to edit it for us. He was utterly shocked despite the repeated warnings we gave him. Shon did an incredible job editing the book and his comments were beyond helpful. Of course the book disturbed him and he still has nightmares, but we DID warn him.
This book is not for the feint of heart.
I don't like to write books that are. Life isn't this way. Everyday there are horrible things that happen and only the strong survive. That's the way it's supposed to be. The weak ad stupid are purged and those of us left standing inherit it all.
Remember the warning when you begin to read. Remember I warned you. Remember I said that this book is not for everyone. Heed the warning posted all over and know that you still need to read it because this book will flash the stark reality of a cruel mirror into your eyes and reflect back the very thing you are afraid to see.

Toxic Leash is available in PRINT
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