Call me Dog Head if you will. That's what everybody that I know calls me. I call myself aspiring because that's what I am. All writers are aspiring unless you've found your formula, published a number of books, and are making a shitload of money.

I started work when I was very young, working in my father's butcher shop. I learned to cut meat from him and my grandfather. I can sling a butcher knife and meat ax as well as any man out there. It served me well and I've worked in numerous shops when I was laid off from the railroad. I can always find a butchering job.

Worked for the Central of Georgia Railroad for twenty-five years. Riding the same trains and switching box cars for the most part. Railroad work, especially in the early years of a man's career is highly unstable. I had to work the extra board and only had work when they needed me. I fell into other jobs during these times of unemployment. An accident caused my demise as a railroad man. I was inspecting a passing train when a car came by with a sticking wheel. Sparks were flying everywhere. They caught my clothes on fire and some hit me in the face and eyes. I eventually lost my left eye because of that. Got a little settlement out of it too. Anyway, when my clothes were on fire, I took my pocket knife and cut the legs of my pants off to get them off over my boots and then stripped down. I guess I looked kind of funny standing there naked with just my boots on.

No. They found me a job in the office as a clerk for five years until I got my twenty-five years in. Then I retired. Inside work ain't for Dog Head Clarke.

I rambled a lot, worked here and there in a butcher shop, worked as a carpenter, even an airplane pilot for a short while. I played gigs in night clubs and jook joints for spending money. Once, I played piano in a whore house for two weeks.

I had a twin engine, commercial license and flew big shots out of Atlanta to wherever they wanted to go. Did a little crop dusting in the Midwest.

No trees out there. The South has too many small farm fields and lots of trees. I don't mind dying when the time comes, but I don't want to go out in flames.

Not now. No depth perception. It's hard for a half-blind man to fly an airplane.

Cooking for large crowds just kind of goes along with butchering. I don't cook fancy gourmet meals and I don't rub elbows with the gentrified types. I like to cook BBQ: chicken, pork, beef, sausages, chicken bog, jambalaya, chicken and fish stew. My specialty is BBQ hash. I cook for the common man.

Everything I know about cooking came from a number of old black men. They are the only ones who can do this kind of cooking worth a damn.

at all. I grew up in a small Carolina town where the black community was three times larger than the whites. I knew we didn't go to school together and so on, but we socialized in different ways. The cultures are different, but the people are the same.

Learned to play from an old colored fella. Played in open tuning, using a pocket knife for a slide. He was left handed and played upside down. That made it harder to learn, but I got there. I like the sound of gut bucket blues, hard core stuff, not the pussified versions. Growing up in a town that's largely black just draws one to the blues. It's a large part of who I am.

I know a little.

Moving on to another topic.......

For me to know and you to find out. Maybe I'll write about that adventure and tell the story someday.

(Pulls two fresh beers from the cooler, hands one to me, and chugged down his own.) Nope, no trouble at all.

That's a matter of opinion. Some like hard and rough books, others like gentle books. I write what I write. It's about my life for the most part. If you don't like it, don't read it.

I like the old beat writers and poets from the fifties and sixties. People like Bukowski and Deacon Lunchbox. Those guys just didn't give a damn and it shows in their writing.

Actually, I've been writing for most of my life. I've got piles of notebooks and journals. They wouldn't make sense to anyone but me. I re-reading them and pulling stories from them to write about.

Hell no! I hated English and literature. I'm not a literary type. My stories are for the common man. I don't mingle with the '"upper crust."

Not yet. I've got a couple in mind but just have not gotten anything on paper yet. I mostly like short stories, essays, poems, and songs. I write short pieces that I can cobble together in an Ebook format.

In today's world people tend to like digital books which are usually better suited for short to medium sized projects. I couldn't read a 100,000 word book on a Kindle. They are also easier to self-publish. I'm too old and ornery to go through the traditional publishing process. I've got a couple of friends who've tried that and they still have nothing out there.

I use Smashwords for the most part. It's easy to use and they distribute books to other book stores. I also use Kindle for ebooks. When I get enough stories out there I'll probably publish a paperback or hard cover book.

I've distributed over six hundred books this year which is pretty good for an old fart like myself.

I've lived all over the South at one time or the other. My current home is in Atlanta, GA, but I grew up in South Carolina. I spend most of my time on the road. I like drifting and rambling. I can't sit still for too long.

I've got a gig for a few days at the Florabama in Pensacola, FL. I'll probably stay there for a month or so, then it's on to Dallas for a big BBQ event. In between, I'll work some jook joints and honky-tonks while I'm on the road. Might even cut some meat.

My favorites are long gone. I liked John R and Bill Allen, the Jiving Hossman, that used to be on WLAC out of Nashville, TN.

I carry a gun and a knife. Only a fool would go into a jook or honky-tonk unarmed.

That about sums it up.