I always wanted to head on up to New York City and be taught by a decent painter, but as time kept on trucking, it became clear that that was just a big dream that would not shake out and I’d never be a real artist because I was shy of the money I’d need to stay up there in New York City, so it was with a pronounced bitterness that I knuckled under to reality and went back to work at the plant like every other loser son-of-a-bitch in town where many others also birthed dreams of fame, country music or some goddamn thing, entering their lives to allow an escape from our shrinking, little, pissant town down here on the edge of the Bogue Chitto swamp and I always caution the kids to be careful and go slow because unrealized dreams die so hard.
David James resides in Atlanta, Georgia, and upon entering the third trimester of his life he finds himself reading a lot and staring at walls. He has’t submitted work, but Sheldon Lee Compton picked and published story in Revelation John in March 2015 and two pieces of his were selected by Barry Basden and published at the Camroc Press Review, for inclusion in the February 2013 and in the publication. Another earlier piece was picked up by editor, Cheryl Anne Gardner from fictionaut posting and published December 2011in Apocrypha Abstractions.
He occasionally maintains a magazine-type blog: