Icarus Falling

“…a fascinating, punchily written chronicle…[Meyer’s] engaging style and nuanced character portraits make this book a fast and loose Canterbury Tales…A memoir with humor, compassion, and a sharp eye for detail…”
Kirkus Reviews

“Icarus Falling is an exciting read from the first page, and with romance, lust, action, and loss, it’s hard not to love such a true story.”
– Red City Review (5-Star Selection)

“…raucous, often hilarious…there’s an addictive quality to [Meyer’s] writing. He really knows how to turn a phrase. You’ll keep turning the pages just by the force of [his] prose…There’s a kind of Bukowski flare… [Meyer is] extraordinarily engaging and funny… An incredibly gifted writer.”
– Self-Publishing Review

“…a forceful book, ripe with detail and well-defined characters…The in-your-face writing style also makes for a fast read…a compelling story.”
Portland Book Review

Icarus Falling: A True Story About the Broken Dreams, Broken Heart and Broken Bones of a Nightclub Bouncer in LA is the true story of a failed actor, who – still tantalized by the promise of LA – reinvents himself as a nightclub bouncer. Working both downtown and on the Sunset Strip, he is thrust into the bloodstream of LA. Amidst the unending parade of strung-out transients, shimmering miniskirts, enraged gangbangers and unhinged party people, he avenges his history of cowardice, atones for his past infidelities and tries to become something better than another Hollywood casualty.

Please consider buying it.

Slide50IR Approved Sticker 2

Or, if you still need convincing, you can either read a fairly long excerpt for free on Amazon or this fairly short excerpt below…

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I felt her warm, naked ass press against me as the hot water spilled over us. The hot women and the cool job. The sex and the drama. It was the life that I’d wanted. It was a life I owed to the club. Sure, I could leave it all behind, but that felt too much like failure and I’d failed enough in LA already. LA owed me. LA was like this beautiful painting that I could only see afterhours through the museum window. It was like a Firebird blasting some catchy tune until the light turns green and it speeds off, leaving me stuck with Katy Perry in my head the rest of the day. LA had promised me a lot and it had paid off very fucking little. I wasn’t leaving until I had collected. I wasn’t leaving until LA finished remaking me into someone better than who I was when I got here.

So I did something I hadn’t done since I first got to LA. I prayed. I prayed for just enough strength, stamina and health to stay a little while longer in the black lights and wallow in the adrenaline bath. I hoped God was cool with it. But even if He wasn’t, I didn’t care. After all, if He had been doing His job, I should have been a fucking movie star by now.

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