Welcome to SneezingCow.com

(This is a pinned post summarizing the SneezingCow basics…scroll down for newer posts.)

Mike’s latest book (Forty Acres Deep) (indie booksellers scroll down to lower left for wholesale info). All the other books (including Population 485) and CDs and DVDs and whatnots.

The Voice Mail page. (This is the weekly podcast — for free samples, click on the episodes without the miniature padlocks.)

Mike’s ability to spin his 20+ books and wide range of life experiences into humorous and heartfelt live presentations have put him in great demand as a public speaker. In addition to his one-man theater shows, Mike has delivered entertaining keynote addresses at conferences for software companies, hospitals and health care organizations, fire and EMS providers, farming and agricultural groups, national and regional utility cooperatives, business and economic development entities, governmental agencies, mental health organizations, dental hygienists, faith-based organizations, logging conventions, book festivals, MFA programs, libraries, and countless others. If you’re interested in retaining Mike for your event, please contact his booking agent here.

The mailing list signup (explained very specifically). We hope you’ll consider joining; it’s old-fashioned but way more loyal than social media. It’s also the best and most direct way to know when Mike’s got something new or is performing near you.

Upcoming live events.

When I walked outside to close things up last night the air was subzero still, the moon was bright even through clouds, this view the source of this scene:

Beneath the brightness of the moon, he followed them, wading until he hit the trough of their common tracks. The light was such that he could see the general shape of things, although in a color-blind way. The trail led through scrub and brush and into a pine copse so thick very little snow had fallen through to the understory, leaving instead a blanket of shed needles. He knew the deer had yarded here before. After a tough winter you could hardly see the needles for all the poop marbles. He knelt, and between the trunks he could see them all around him, silent and still save for the puffs of blued fog out their nostrils. Now and then one would flick an ear or stomp a forefoot, still spooked but loath to leave this sheltering space.

— From the novella Forty Acres Deep

Holed up at Pine Hollow for three days working on three new Long Beds songs and shining up some of the standards. If you wanna know when the new stuff is finished and out there, please sign up on the mailing list or Mike’s Voice Mail Substack. If you want to hear those new songs live, they’re on the set list for our show at the Pablo in Eau Claire January 25. We’d sure enjoy sharing the evening with you. Meanwhile, Mike is back in his little room above the garage, typing, typing, typing.

Howdy folks:

Welcome to Michael Perry’s Voice Mail, episode 245. In honor of the final week of the NFL football regular season, this one’s available to free and paid subscribers alike. To listen, click here.

In this episode I explain how the very first time I attended a professional football game, I was on the field with the team. As has often been the case with my career, I got there by coming at things from an angle.

And thank you for listening.

Forward!
Mike

Still waiting to be drafted…

Howdy folks:

Welcome to Michael Perry’s Voice Mail, episode 243. This one’s available to free and paid subscribers alike. If you enjoy the episode and want to get a couple free weeks on us, please email [email protected].

Click here to listen.

In this episode I start out to wax poetic about my snow plow truck then detour into talking about my tour van instead. There is also a hubcap update.

The subject of today’s marginalia, the book Daughter in Retrograde (by Courtney Kersten), is available from BookShop.org and on Amazon. (Law requires me to let you know we catch a little commission if you order through those Amazon and BookShop links. Are we good, law?)

UW-Eau Claire School of Nursing, Class of ’87. These folks and those four years have had a lasting and meaningful effect on my life despite my brief nursing practice (happy tangents arose). My one regret, besides that mustache? The Ricky Gervais pose.