12.28.2008

squash lasagna



I am officially in Ashland for a week. Here's what I want to do: see my friends, eat pilgrimage at a predrawn list of incomparable restaurants (already down: Morning Glory), wander around the red and spread out light of a Western mountain town for a while, get a Lot of Writing done in Bryan's and Willie's house while they are at their own work, go to The Beanery, which is not at all a good restaurant but for which I have sentimental whirrings, generally indulge in the nostalgia I never allow myself because it's annoying to reward your own memory for simply existing, see Synechdoche, NY a third time (check), maybe visit the chocolate factory, play Bryan's guitars, feel okay about the rain because the rain here is comfortable, not made of steak knives, which it's made of in Massachusetts. There. It's always good to end on a fact.

12.27.2008

12.23.2008

is this a sitcom or a sycamore?


Kendra Grant Malone tagged me to say seven things about myself. I like her list because they are all facts. Normally I hate talking about myself.

"'I hate talking about myself,' he said, reading it out loud."

So here are seven things about me that are all quotes from shit I have already written. Yes, Depression-era conservation values.

1) "Why is Kenneth Koch still dead? He's the only one I miss."
2) "I've never been that good at taking naps."
3) "Do you dream in verses? No, I dream in consumer reports."
4) "I want my lovers back inside my closet like my favorite coats."
5) "I want to sing like a taxi cab."
6) "I've considered buying Tazers as a gift for all my friends."
7) "When I turn my face under the cold faucet, I am trying to divorce my head."

Tags to seven blog people:

Bryan Coffelt
Alex Burford
Jack Christian
James Yeh
Heather Christle
Evelyn Hampton
Rachel B Glaser

12.17.2008

not a commercial for bravo potato chips



My short short "Crock" is up on Pequin. There's a whole bloc of listeners both internal demons and postal workers who are, like, "It's about time he wrote a story called crock."

Thanks Steven & Pequin team.

Tomorrow I'm off to the West Coast. Seeya there.

12.15.2008

we're changing our heads to mean "slightly off"


My friend Jack Christian just started a blog. What you need to do is go visit it and read his poems. They're this side of cayenne hot with sledding down the ice hill in your socks thrown in. As I endorse barbecue sauce, sheepdogs, mustaches, sipping whiskey and anyone who plays the banjo named Papa Clyde, so do I endorse the poems of Jack Christian.

12.10.2008

if i win a printer i'll print you a picture; if i win a t-shirt i will when in your vicinity wear a shirt or not wear a shirt whatever be your will



Nerve has picked my essay as one of their Top 25 For 2008. Now they are letting people vote for their favorite 10. In the spirit of my unflagging competitive drive, I am asking you, honeysuckle readers, to vote for me. You should vote for me if you like me, because I might win a t-shirt or a printer. You should vote for me if you hate me, because it will mean more exposure for one of my most embarrassingly confessional pieces and possibly a Dramatic Stain on the Legitimacy of my Career. Maybe you should even vote for me if you like Uriah Heep, who is mentioned in that essay, and who--if I'm not mistaken--is not mentioned anywhere else on God's internet.

THANK YOU I LOVE YOU ALL ACCORDION WINTER STORM

12.03.2008

what is with the internet and offensive fish?

I have a new collage piece from MC O up at the venerable Shampoo. Other contributors include hotties like Patrick Duggan and Jordan Davis, plus a monkey from Randy Thurman, who has an old man in the new NOÖ, out soon.

I read MC O again the other night and felt like it was written by someone else. I like it. I am proud of it. It will clear up a lot of misconceptions about rural Northern California's "personality," which is not an oxymoron, not if you try hard enough, like if you paint a snake on a cow. Puff a dart into a cow. Paint a snake on it. Rachel Ray. Who cares about personality. Whole Foods doesn't show up in MC O. I'm just not that kind of kid.

My heart's been feeling weird lately. Spinning out and drifting to the corners. Here in the pit crew, we're like "it's Talladega, motherfucker, wake up, drive left, what are you doing, that's the grass" but my heart thinks the driver's seat is a dentist's waiting room. My heart's got his helmet off. I don't even think he's got his foot on the clutch.

11.29.2008

here's your one chance fancy



PopMatters is running a good primer on how country and rap are pretty much the same thing. The article's hook ("the truth is that they have more in common than their devotees are likely to admit") is a little disingenuous to anyone who grew up in areas where all everybody listened to was 1) rap and 2) country, but whatever. Articles need hooks.

Also there is a little bit of salty and unconvincing work toward showing what happens when these genres "collaborate," but it's unconvincing only because it tries to set things up on a good-or-bad scale ("Kid Rock is bad, but Nappy Roots is good!"), when the point is that these collaborations are bound to be wacky and tense, for all the reasons the article does such a good job at listing: economic envy, misogyny, etc.

Plus there's probably some sort of wild-eyed sharecropper/slave thesis to get into, which sounds a little big, right? Anyway, I'm sure somebody's already trotted that one out.

The point is: good work, Juli Thanki!

11.18.2008

counter argument to one line in the poem "eh is right" which is below this post right now but may not be in the future

Thanks to Brian Foley's sharp eyes, here is a terrific NY Times profile on Lewis Hyde, author of The Gift. I wrote a post about the idea of a "gift economy" for HTMLGIANT. It makes me sound like a real person, or at least a public intellectual.

And anyway, "gift economy" getting a bad rap in the poem is just because the poem is about the idea of "two people," and sometimes pairs really hate crowds.

11.15.2008

when you say lightning bug, you mean a cloud with the flu?

EH IS RIGHT

Drop me off first. Then spend the night
in the parking lot of the funeral home
where two of these men dropped a casket
almost, got it back up, then high-fived.
Amateur opera singers do their own makeup.
The higher you go, the more your face gets
installed. Then it dries and waits for your
approval. I keep getting submitted to
withdrawal. We all say things none of us
believe, like "gift economy." Or "wait."
Each surface is buffed by the quality of
sleep available there. Certain people you
care about and then I care about you
a lot more. Antique vendors swarm the
house for what the significant didn't want.
The owner of a go-kart track urges his
friends to help him build a fire-resistant
tower around everything he loves, which was
not the original plan. "Make it about more
than one thing," I told you, and then you
told me I told you, and I felt stupid.
The fireman pours shampoo on a robin
and washes it up in his red bucket hat.
Tell me how you really feel and if it
helps, I'll pretend that you're asleep.

11.12.2008

you'll undress me in that tone, young man


Like a blueberry of hope, the new web journal SIR! has at long last released its first issue. The good news is that despite the delay, the issue is absolutely fabulous. Really good poems and strange, arresting little narrative joints from these folk:

Chad Reynolds, Noah Falck, Blake Butler, Scott Garson, Mike Young (hi), Juliet Cook, Brooklyn Copeland,
Rauan Klassnik, Peter Berghoef, Elisa Gabbert, Ryan Walsh, Carl Annarummo, Peter Schwartz, Zachary Schomburg & Emily Kendall Frey, Sean Kilpatrick, Julia Cohen, Charles Lennox, Shane Jones,Spencer Troxell, Brandon Hobson, Nicolle Elizabeth, Nathan Logan, and William Walsh.

It's an awesome new online journal. Really. I just came home from talking about Virginia Woolf and read the whole thing. Good work, Brian Foley!

11.06.2008

mc oroville pub


I've got a collage piece from MC Oroville's Answering Machine up at the lovely new journal Rain Fade. Check it out.

11.04.2008

okay then

PRESIDENT O



INSTRUCTIONS FOR ANGELS
--Kenneth Patchen

Take the useful events
For your tall.
Red mouth.
Blue weather.
To hell with power and hate and war.

The mouth of a pretty girl...
The weather in the highest soul...
Put the tips of your fingers
On a baby man;
Teach him to be beautiful.
To hell with power and hate and war.

Tell God that we like
The rain, and snow, and flowers,
And trees, and all things gentle and clean
That have growth on the earth.
White winds.
Golden fields.
To hell with power and hate and war.

10.27.2008

magic helicopter interview


Kelly Spitzer was kind enough to ask me a few questions about Magic Helicopter Press and help spread the word. I'll announce it here and on the website when Mary Miller's and Ben Buchholz's chaps are physical and ready to ship. Probably mid-November, along with NOÖ 9's online release. The chaps are $6: $3 for the press and $3 for the author. I'll add that to the website when I get home because I think it's important to know where the $$ goes, especially these days. For now, you can pre-order at the website or think about how cool it is that Kelly's front page is 2/3 people who live in the same house.

I feel, in the post-Lin parlance, like "units are moving."

10.23.2008

thrift store couches / sleeping pill jokes


The indefatigable Ryan Manning has posted the only biographical interview I will ever do. This is it folks. The dirt. Truth is what you yell when the hot water goes hari-kari. Truth is when you open the garage door with your teeth. And so on. Somebody put a microphone in my french toast. We could be at this all day.

thank you for asking part 2: a definitive philosophy of everything

MIKE'S THOUGHTS ON WORK ETHIC:



MIKE'S THOUGHTS ON THE DEATH OF THE AUTHOR:



MIKE'S THOUGHTS ON CONSUMERISM:



MIKE'S THOUGHTS ON APPRECIATION (CLICK TO LISTEN, IT'S NOT JUST A SEXY PICTURE, MRS. KANSAS):



MIKE'S THOUGHTS ON HOPE:

10.22.2008

let's make out in the laundromat


Do you care about static electricity? How can you not? Recent polling shows that particles of static electricity are the final undecided voting bloc. Luckily, this invaluable constituency is now addressed by a new online journal of poetry, fiction, non-fiction, and photography/visual art: Rain Fade. Bryan Coffelt and Wille Ziebell edit Rain Fade. In their words:

Rain Fade is interference and degradation of a signal.

Rain Fade is the barrier between words and objects.

Rain Fade is the space between your eye and my eye.

Rain Fade is a new journal of interesting and innovative writing and visual art. We are interested in fiction, non-fiction, poetry, photography, painting, and much more. Send all submissions and inquiries to submissions@rain-fade.com

There's a lovely video at rain-fade.com that features the two editors introducing the video and interviewing each other, wherein Bryan explains what would happen to him if he turned into Kurt Russell.

NO OTHER JOURNAL IS ADDRESSING THE KURT RUSSELL FACTOR. TAKE THAT, BITCHES.

10.21.2008

vegan literature


The new issue of absurdist fiction journal BUST DOWN THE DOOR AND EAT ALL THE CHICKENS is out. Authors included: Sam Pink, Blake Butler, D. Harlan Wilson, Rhys Hughes, Ofelia Hunt, Cameron Pierce, Mike Young (hi), Matthew Simmons, Darby Larson, Aaron Sitze, and Adam Breckenridge.

It's only $5 + shipping. I've got a one page story about nun's teeth in there, and there's no telling what the rest of these championship WNBA mascots have in store for you. Snag.

10.09.2008

downtown fayetteville, arkansas looks like arcata, california


I'm going there next week with my good friend Jack Christian for the Frank Stanford Festival. You should come if you're anywhere nearby.

thank you for asking: a definitive philosophy of everything

MIKE'S THOUGHTS ON AESTHETICS:



MIKE THOUGHTS ON MORALITY AND ETHICS:



MIKE'S THOUGHTS ON CLASS ISSUES:



MIKE'S THOUGHTS ON SOCIETY:



MIKE'S THOUGHTS ON THE POSSIBILITY OF LOVE:



MIKE'S THOUGHTS ON SEX:



MIKE'S THOUGHTS ON DEATH (CLICK THE PIC TO HEAR):

10.08.2008

the death of jim loney is a good book and this is good news



I am excited because Jack Morgan's Stormy Petrel Press will release a chapbook of my short-short prose called And the Shoes on the Cables Are There for the Angels Real Sturdy Thing in early 2009. Read the title story a story by clicking on the link there. The chap will have like nine things in it, I think. The picture included here won't be the cover because that would be pretentious.

Here's what I don't understand: if you saw that picture happen in real life, happened to glance up and see all that, you would feel good. But if you take a picture of it and make it the cover of a book, that's pretentious. Who do I blame for this? Nixon? Walter Benjamin? Don't say "Oh, that wouldn't be pretentious." It would. We need real solutions here. We need to put country first.

Both of my chapbooks are forthcoming from San Francisco. Thank you, San Francisco. Your train stops at midnight, but you're a good kid.

UPDATE: The chapbook will now be called Real Sturdy Thing. Thank you to Gabe Durham for the help.

10.07.2008

wait, maybe i am thinking of the world's largest rodent


Hey, I just got interviewed by the lovely and mystical Leigh Stein. You can find it here. Leigh and I discuss summers, formats, Tony Tost, Arkansas, prime ministers, opium, Peter Gizzi, and falling. Let's just say we make Mr. Jackson's shirt, if you know what I mean, huh huh, yeah yeah.

Thank you, Leigh! =)

10.04.2008

the owner looks nice; the waitress is pretty

A SAMPLE OF YOUR NEW LUCK

Neither of us signed up for this scrutiny,
bear-soft and set to club the hive
both. We never read the instructions
on this cream. We bought the tin
for the tap of our nails and to
trim them is the lonely opposite of
gross. Darling, when did we walk into
suction cups and the release forms of
a sleep study that jolts us huh to hear
"Congratulations!" up the hall, but for
who? Did you catch that? Now we're
happy for them? Oh. We've heard tell
of Accomplishments like get-you-some,
so we staple on dead ant mustaches and,
like, is that what you mean? Will someone
knock on our pillow tonight to say "Howdy,
you've won! It's over! These side bets,
a battalion of 7s, the holy escalator,
plum juice atomized, a dessert collage
from checkered flags and FDR's diary:
this is but a sample of your new luck."
All of these I stow in my chest bones
like Christmas presents that embarrass
airport security and make them think
"Either I gave shitty things this year
or got them. Why can't I remember?"
The night is a commercial for trains.
Dreams on call with eyebrows wet.
I'm making a lot of money counting
how awake I can stay in the tyranny of
sequels to self-recipes. Should I practice
my headers? Did I cauterize my friend?
You're rubbing the cream mask in your
fit, all over the cool side. Eighty-six
umbrellas open in the street, and they
spell something in how they float (is it
a billet-doux?) NO, THE INSTRUCTIONS SAY
RUB IN GENTLY. THEY NEVER SAID MASK.

10.02.2008

dear lord

Sean Lovelace linked today to a George Saunders essay that appeared in the New Yorker in 2003: "Chicago Christmas, 1984." It is so good that I am linking to a George Saunders essay that appeared in the sweater-loving New Yorker. It's fucking good, yo.

10.01.2008

afoot is afoot


HTMLGIANT is the Pitchfork of online/small press literature. It's the baby of Blake Butler and Gene Morgan. I am a contributor.

NOÖ Journal's blog has started a new feature called NOÖ Loves Everyone. We're going to interview all contributors to NOÖ in alphabetical order of first name. #1 is Alex Burford. Check it out. Add NOÖ's blog to your RSS feed my dearest rooster friends.

it was funny until you ate the parrots

ALL OF THESE PARTIES OUTSIDE THE MICROWAVE

My friend, I went to your stupid mine,
carried in obligation's very hot mitten.

Everything was ticked as Gift, Scar, or Luck.
The new parasail made you look post-history,

as we do feel, or feel-ish, long enough to
fuck up. I did that eyebrows thing like good job.

Then we stood on the roof, years of stilt training
between us. We chewed Sudafeds and ham, chuckled at

by all: all that passes for beloved these days.
Why is cake in the shape of a rocket not

you? Someone wants to draw your face and I say
ransom. When my friend makes a good joke,

my other friends are in the shower distantly,
as the minutes of the sun left wait to be

picked for the dodgeball of sentiment.
Half the time I feel like U.S.S. Bitchface,

and all the people line up to pet me. Other-
wise, I cut burritos with a pizza slicer and you

laugh and I think "if that is your real laugh,
go to sleep. I want to steal it. Don't go."

9.29.2008

it takes a train to dive


Added lots of new folk to the sidebar, folks whose blogs I enjoy:

Jensen Whelan
Scott Garson
Shane Jones
Cliff Garstang
Evelyn Hampton
Mazie Lousie Montgomery
Sean Lovelace
Barry Graham

Wowzer!

9.25.2008

i am suspending my goiter to post this

Ken Baumann's black-and-white online journal NO POSIT has just released v3. It's a trough of sugary crunch. People included: Noah Cicero, Matthew Simmons, Brandi Wells, Zach German, Matt Savoca, Pete Schwartz, and my new favorite poet Jason Bredle. Plus too I've got a poem in there called "The Trip All Whoppyjawed." Even if you've read the poem before, NO POSIT's formatting changes the line breaks in an interesting way, so it's like a whole new poem.

In other news, no one who ever has funerals at the funeral home next to my house ever looks sad ever.

Thank you Ken and good work! Also you and my friend Ben Kopel should meet because you look like each other. Ben Kopel doesn't look like me; he looks like you. Also, why is that a good reason for two people to meet? I don't know. I'm just a maverick.

9.21.2008

kgm & my & mx: the only investment bank left in america



THREE MAJOR USA POETESSES READ OUT LOUD IN AN ERA OF ECONOMIC COLLAPSE

KENDRA GRANT MALONE
MAX WINTER
MIKE YOUNG

(ALSO A LOT OF M'S)


SATURDAY SEPTEMBER 27th 8PM
at SPACESPACE
390 SENECA
ENTRANCE ON STANHOPE
RIDGEWOOD QUEENS
FREE

8.31.2008

you're so long it's almost legal

WHAT I'VE LEARNED FROM SLEEPING IN NEW ENGLAND

Studies have shown that only the sleep deprived will
sleep with me. My housemate just mentioned a velvet
dick--maybe that's the standard we're working under?
But I look upon your petrified daughters of the revolution
forest, your barns of Vermont with mallard animations
sponsored by all-things-will-pass.com, your gorges and
sweet corn, thunderstorms and chimney ingenuity,
your Presidential asparagus and miles of stone,
maple ice cream, scholarships and flannel sunsets,
wheat league baseball and weak kneed scholars,
your fifteen dollar demolition derby tickets and two
fingered prayers, blueberry marshes and cabbage malls,
hypothetical dance crazes post-Liberal victory, your pet
yawns, your house walrus, your imitation of the walrus
yawn, your cell phone chargers and giant mums, all the
Appleseed cousins agape in the Connecticut with hacksaws for
medicine, all the sisters of former Energy Secretaries in
progressive high school theatres and coffeeshop divorce trials,
your decent mileage versus your snow tires versus your
bicycle endorsement, theoretically, for others--"hey,
wait, I own seven bicycles, they're on Craigslist"--
your three dollar avocados and great advancements in
emotional theory, your Thishampton and Thathampton,
your one exit to Fenway Park and your legitimate fear of
hugs--don't worry, I'm not going to hug you, I'm an
intellectual--your byzantine Pike and moose and trains,
your girls of interesting tattoos such as powerlines,
the way your long winters crimp even Santa to liquor,
your grave, dark haired feminist boys who tow the good ship
Beard Trimmer from one sullen hook up to another, who lazily
graze on their own fuck ups and network in the shower,
who in lieu of pecans will toast your pumpkin seeds,
that being a kind of sexual innuendo I won't explain,
not in the face of your expensive research and cheap
buses, not without a draft from your snow plow driver's
early bourbon, not unless I'm allowed to debut the great
Hawaiian shirt of my intuition that suggests I call your
bullshit. Nope! For now I look upon your Hudson River
School dream innovations as an invitation to my own
entitlement, the backwards Pac Man of American Destiny
that I will do my hella best to manifest upon your shore.
In the kitchen of your renovated mill. In the basement
of an all-girls college dorm and how we're not endearing
back and forth, New England, since we're neither of us
mulberry hedges sheared toward a clever apology or
a petition to keep cocaine out of our vulnerable sunsets
and deep under the minus twenty degree snow drifts of
April where it so belongs and might lead a Hampshire grad
guilty on the bacon of Derridean blowjobs to say "I'm
tough, I know why wheat bread is better and why white bread
tricked everybody after the Great Depression, ready to say
'Hey, thanks for the footstool.' And so I announce my
intentions to announce New Hampshire's New Man in the Mtn!"
Which they really will build; I'm not saying they won't.
I'm not offending you on purpose by asking to see your
tattoo, it's just I'm curious, some curious hick on the
back of a condor all the way here from a cheap place
like Reno, the Reno in your head I mean, because I really
dig your heads and all the different little heads under
wool here. They're the evolution of heads, I think.
I look upon your heads and your thin legs built of some
cigarette / asparagus hybrid with zero emissions not
frozen like me in this stupid leather jacket and I think
"Dear Entitlement, I'm not asleep yet. Give me your
smallpox lecture. Everyone should have sex on Emily
Dickinson's grave is my theory, and if you need a
ticket man, I'll be him, or a new pronoun! I'm almost
not kidding. Home is not just where to bed an easy love.
The home should always look a little like it's dead."

8.21.2008

ryan call press release



August 21 2008

HOUSTON, TX - Ryan Call was swamped by teenage girls kindling their fickle devotion as he announced today that he was becoming the new associate editor of popular underground dog food magazine NOÖ Journal.

When prompted by an exultation from one of the hotter teens, the one with the raccoon makeup, Ryan said he would be happy to explain his new duties at NOÖ. "I am going to be reading submissions, editing shit, and hyping on the internet. I'm also going to be working with Magic Helicopter Press doing the same thing."

Of course, everyone was wondering if this meant fascist bullshit karate fry cook editors Mike Young or Kyle Peterson would step down or otherwise relieve their duties. But Call shrugged off this speculation. "Mike and Kyle are still doing everything they were doing. We just want to do things faster and more, you know, professional 'n shit." Ryan had no comment on Mike's whereabouts, dampening hopes that the reclusive cult gymnast would appear in public for the first time since the 1843 "dinner-and-a-moon-rocket" disaster.

Instead, surrogate representatives of NOÖ--pandas, penguins, and popular black and white TV icon Andy Griffith--lofted Ryan atop their shoulders and paraded him through the muggy streets of Houston to jubilant cries of "NOÖ? What's that? How the fuck are you supposed to pronounce that? What are those two little dots called? I hate fucking Houston."

RYAN CALL: ASSOCIATE EDITOR OF NOÖ JOURNAL AND MAGIC HELICOPTER PRESS: RYAN@NOOJOURNAL.COM

8.20.2008

multitask musket


Magic Helicopter Press has plans!

Spread the word!


In other news, major summer blog post coming soon. A summary of summer. With: pictures!

8.19.2008

good job brandon scott gorrell


A lot of internet people posted about each other. The project was organized by Brandon Scott Gorrell.

i only give you my situation

My essay "It Ain't Me, Babe" went live on Nerve today.

It is what it is. I am happy with it. Not what I normally write, but I had fun writing it.

The Village Voice blog linked to it in a snarky way, which means it must be good, right?

I'm just hoping someone buys me a balloon.

8.16.2008

see chelsea, i told you i would


I have a lot to type about, many acts of kindness, sustained periods of kindness, to publicly acknowledge and thank.

But first, here is the sum of my trip to California:

If you're taking the Greyhound from Arcata to San Francisco (or vice versa), your meal stop will be in Willits, CA. The bus will stop between a McDonalds and a Taco Bell. You will be dismayed, but if you continue walking up the road past the Taco Bell and some auto repair shop, you will arrive at a Subway. It is possible to get a sandwich from Subway during the half hour meal stop. Much better than Taco Bell or McDonalds.

You're welcome.

8.06.2008

no, not a green bean burrito, m'am



Dear Bay Area friends,

I am reading! Please come see me. Have drinks with me. I've not been in your parts in more than a year. Click flyer for details. Also I'm going to be around the weekend before, so, like, say hi. Try not to blow Oakland up. Thank you!

IDIOLEXICON POETRY SERIES

MONDAY AUGUST 11TH 7PM
Cafe Royale, 800 Post St, SF, CA
FREE

Brian Teare & Mike Young
CLICK FLYER FOR DETAILS


THANK YOU I LOVE YOU GOOD NIGHT

8.03.2008

be an open node


In the spirit of Blake's internet literature manifesto, which should definitely be reprinted in various Best of the Web anthologies, I sang a full step higher than my comfort zone and recorded a cover of the song "Boundaries" by poet and friend Bryan Coffelt. Find the original version at his MySpace.

Boundaries - Bryan Coffelt (covered by The Cinnamon Urns)


I was a twelve year old punk with a doctor's note
You had a mouth full of stars
Down at the river with French fries and baseball cards
We sat collecting our scars

Boundaries, why are you why are you why are you
Saving yourself for the wind?

Now I have seen all the ways and the roads
And the roses you turned out to be
Dogs in the alleyway scare the shit out of me
Turn my bones inward on me

Boundaries, why are you why are you why are you
Saving yourself for the wind?

I ain't sayin' I'm rememberin' nothin'
That I should probably forget
But captains in jeopardy (despite their intelligence)
Always go down with their ship

Boundaries, why are you why are you why are you
Saving yourself for the wind?

7.30.2008

you can't buy coconut water in amherst; sorry t.l.

"
Coconut 13—with new poems by Rae Armantrout, David Lehman, Ariana Reines, Teresa K. Miller, Kate Colby, Carrie Olivia Adams, James Belflower, Anne Marie Rooney, Kristi Maxwell, Jason Zuzga, Megan Kaminski, Christopher Higgs, Nellie Haack, Claire Donato, Ravi Shankar, Emily Anderson, Laynie Browne, Jonathan Doherty, Kathleen Jesme, Matina Stamatakis, Mike Young, and Terence Winch--is now live on the web!!!"

I have read through most of the issue. It's sweet. There are some very good prose poems. Nevada is represented at least twice, via mention of Las Vegas and Sparks. Go Nevada.

7.29.2008

stroke of the cowboy dusty acoustics


Why Do We Need to Know - The Cinnamon Urns

for L

I've considered buying Tazers as a gift for all my friends
In the battle of the tanktops, may the best Bolshevik win
Men you look so sullen with your laundry bags in tow
Spider bites or distances: which is worse? Well, I don't know.
We don't know. Maybe God knows. We'll ask him tomorrow.

Why do we need to know?
Why do we need to know?
Why do we need to know?
Why do we need to know?
I've got a stroke of the cowboy in my soft soft heart
And you've got your face in the pillow

Kiss me in the cemetery I've heard it's good luck
If I go missing at the diner then I stole a semi-truck
One door was marked PATIENCE that's the one we hit with eggs
"I don't believe in God" I told the lightning on the lake.
What a funny thing to say. I never know what I should say. Is that okay?

Why do we need to know?
Why do we need to know?
Why do we need to know?
Why do we need to know?
I've got a stroke of the cowboy in my soft soft heart
And you've got your face in the pillow

7.15.2008

humdingers


Every now and then I will read what's new in an online magazine I love. Juked is one such magazine.

Here are two new things on Juked that lit dreams and landed whoas in me:

Gang, a story by Martin Cozza
Lovesick, a poem by Howard Good

7.14.2008

i'm going to work for the new WPA and sing union songs in my unfettered mustache of grit



"Customers on IndyMac Federal Bank listen to Burbank Police Sgt. Matthew Ferguson's instructions as he reads names from a sign up sheet while they wait in line to pull as much money as they could from the failed financial institution in Burbank, Monday July 14, 2008. The bank was helping ten customers per hour and the list was at least couple of hundred names long soon after they opened their doors."

via AP

My new book about the economy's emotions will be called

HI NEW DEPRESSION WELCOME TO THE NEW DEPRESSION CAN I TAKE YOUR PANIC?

7.11.2008

it's funny until someone gets hurt, then it's sophisticated


Five Star Literary Stories, an awesome site that reviews online fiction (Aaron Hellem's story from NOÖ was recently reviewed) just published Sharon McGill's review of my story "Ten Gallon Bucket of Fries," which appeared in WordRiot three years ago (holy shit). Ms. McGill's review is gracious and insightful. Many thanks to T.J Forrester for the site, Sharon McGill for the review, and Jackie Corley for originally publishing the story, which will be reprinted in Online Writing: The Best of the First Ten Years (I'm not sure if that's the best link).

Now look at the picture via Nadim Sabella.

7.05.2008

nobody moves to perth

IS THERE LIGHT WHERE YOU ARE?

"Bewilderment is the new sincerity" -- Heather Christle

All the new bewilderment is about hay fever tablets.
In this it resembles the blind men running from the
elephant. In this it resembles nude appliance repair.
We're pulled aside and told we're loved, but listen:
the mustard gas has to go. If I keep feeling this way
I will have to use a lot of emoticons. I will have to
stop lying to my children about the history of blues.
No more oyster ice cream, illegal haircuts, arc welding.
Stricter regulations on confession distribution.
Stop with the codeine-in-the-milkshake "accidents."
All the old bewilderment was about jealousy between
umpires, twenty-seven facemasks dunked in blood,
piled in the sink. It seems like only yesterday
we hired these relationships, and now look at the
mics on us, even when we're not under emotion.
"I like that--is it new?" "No, we know someone who
already likes it." Now we're even sold our minutes.
We can talk on the phone in the handicap shower.
If I keep feeling this way, I will need a mitten
my whole body over. All the new bewilderment
mops in the blue hour and respects donuts,
dismantles the game into aesthetic experience.
We're rushed from the gym and told "Lay here
and dream of time machines very hard." Okay.
We're given six unlabeled jars and told "Pick
the new honey." That one. If I keep feeling this--
wearing, I mean, a pillowcase and a white belt--
we will drop the bones in the heart slot just to
buzz, buzz, even as we're not supposed to buzz.
I have invented a new kind of poetry that alludes
to Operation, which is also a new kind of feeling,
which was already our new kindness at work.
When the batteries run out, promise that you'll
melt me in my sleep and stir me up with blue acid.
Keep the lights on through all loss. Don't forget:
brilliant also means that none of us can see.

7.01.2008

the french have a word for that

ALL THE GOOD PARTS GONE FOR LEGAL REASONS

I am walking through the basement
of an all womens' college dorm,
carrying my underwear, photos of a
duck & dolphin, and a sheet labeled
LITERATURE FOR ANDY. Here it's
midnight. Today I ate my share of
thunderstorms and hickory potatoes.
"Can I talk?" asked a 12 year old.
I said "Only if it's interesting"
and he said "By whose standards?"
Would you still love me if I were
awarded Most Likely to Applaud Too
Emotionally? You can have two
desserts, I don't care. I feel
______ because a 12 year old said
"If a poem has audience participation,
you should." We have to hire mollusks,
zombie Kenneth Kochs and @ signs to mop
up with whipped cream and cheese malice.
Go away if you're not happy. This is
Rule #1. Fun fact: I am very real,
and I have certain secrets of
cinnamon and ambulance and moss.
Now I am going to take a shower.

6.22.2008

how do you pronounce noo journal

from QF's email:


Monday Night Book-B-Que at the Booksmith

Please join Quick Fiction and NOÖ Journal on Monday, June 23rd at Brookline Booksmith. We'll be grilling out back and enjoying some excellent readers and live music.


Monday, June 23rd
Brookline Booksmith
Brookline, Mass.
Food: 6:30 PM
Event: 7:00 PM


Myfanwy Collins has work published or forthcoming in Quick Fiction, The Kenyon Review, Cream City Review, Agni, Swivel, The Jabberwock Review, Saranac Review, Monkeybicycle, Mississippi Review, SmokeLong Quarterly, and other venues. Please visit her at www.myfanwycollins.com.

Patrick Duggan is originally from New Hampshire, and received a BFA in photography and literature from Emerson College in Boston, and an MFA in writing from California College of the Arts in San Francisco. He is editor and cofounder, along with Elliot Harmon and Marcus Merritt, of Idiolexicon, and his poems and articles have appeared in numerous journals, including Beeswax, Floating Holiday, Hazmat Review, Mirage, Monday Night Lit, NOÖ Journal, Parthenon West Review, Traffic, and 26 Magazine.

Gabe Durham lives in Northampton, Massachusetts. His writings have appeared at Daytrotter.com, Word Riot, Crate, and Expressionists. He gives away free words and music at www.gatherroundchildren.com.

Plus music from Yes, But Slowly.

6.18.2008

mission accomplishmented



GOOD WORK & THANK YOU FOR YOUR BRAVERY

P.S. There are still chapbooks available because "the war's not over"

6.16.2008

sarcastic antifolk sunglasses choadface lightning storm calivin coolidge relax mom i'm not "that" "depressed"



Midnight! (I'm Not Famous Yet) - The Cinnamon Urns

I met the Kool-Aid man in the train depot
He had a cheap tattoo and a two week growth
There are batteries on the bathroom floor
Pentagram on your girlfriend's door

chorus
Midnight! And I'm not famous yet
All I am's accruing debt
Midnight! And I'm not famous yet
Put a chainsaw through my chest
La la la la through my chest

I met Richard Brautigan at the game
Had a shotgun popsicle in his brain
There are bricks through the windows of the moral men
When I smile I look sad and French

chorus

I met Calvin Coolidge on his namesake bridge
He had a sawed off lightbulb and a blue syringe
There's a wrestling team on its way back home
There are forty pills in a girl I know

chorus

I didn't ask if you were sorry
When you screamed I'm coming it didn't save me
I feel about the same
You feel about the same
Oh we feel just about the same

Midnight! And we're not famous yet
All we are's accruing debt
Midnight! And we're not famous yet
Put a chainsaw through my chest
La la la la through my chest

6.15.2008

i heard there was a secret chord


HAPPY FATHER'S DAY DAD

SONG CLICK FOR SONGS SONGS:

Ki oh

Boss man

How to shoot

mission mission calling mission control

THANK YOU FOR HELPING MIKE SEE THE BEST POP BAND ALIVE + THE BEST ANTIFOLK COMIC BOOK ARTIST



5 people bought my chapbook (link to the right), so I will be able to see Herman Dune and Jeffrey Lewis in Northampton, MA on June 24th and still have enough money to pay my rent and eat cats.

Thank you Ben, Jack, Carrie, Bryan, and Michael.

you can want if you dance to


I have new publications to announce. Pretend we are a baseball stadium. Announcer.

A long story in the Fall 2008 Phoebe.

A creepy story online at Pindeldyboz.

Thank you I love you goodbye.

6.14.2008

good new things

Yes:

He Tells Us Sometimes to Wander by Jess Rowan -- on Pequin

Love Your Friends and Not Your Lovers by Kendra Grant Malone (rated R) -- on Bore Parade

From now on, when people ask me how I'm doing, I'm going to exclusively quote from my own poetry, churlishly as I can. Right now, for example, I feel like the end of my poem BLUES SONG FOR ANTACIDS, which is available in my chapbook available in the sidebar to your right:

"I TURN MY ENTIRE LIFE OVER TO BARR,
THE BAND. PLEASE CONTINUE WHAT YOU
STOPPED A LONG TIME AGO FOR NO GOOD
REASON AND TRY IN THE FASHION CALLED
HARDER. DON'T ASK ME WHY THEY CALL
YOU IN THE MIDDLE OF THE PARTY WITH
WEIRD REQUESTS LIKE: "PLEASE COME TO
MASSACHUSETTS, CRAWL IN MY CHEST,
GIVE ME A FREE BREATHING LESSON."

6.08.2008

she even looks pretty when it's hot

The reading was exciting. The rumbles began an hour or two before, when hipster pirates stole all my chapbooks, drove into a deep-sea lair, and committed sex accidents all over the books, ruining them for professional consumption.

Okay. I carried them in a bag and put a water bottle in the bag and then the water bottle broke.

So all my chapbooks became waterlogged. I tried to sell them for $4, but most people were like "These are wet! I don't understand." Sam Starkweather did buy a copy. Thank you, Sam.

Really, I should have just given them away. Duh.

I got too obsessed with the idea of buying mocha french toast via poetry.

The reading, though, was very good. Elisa Gabbert was the only one who managed to read outside all the way. Good job, Elisa. Amy King's last poem was cracked by a sudden thunderstorm, which caused the audience to cram down the stairs into the loft space and cause a giant fire hazard. Then Amy yelled at everyone and finished reading. Later, Amy King touched my butt and said "easy access." Amy King is/was the Poet Laureate of the blogosphere.

Leigh Stein read very well and people applauded after a few of her poems.

Tao Lin read the whale poem. Everybody laughed, especially when a page was turned, and Tao laughed too at one point. When done he said "They're on sale for $3."

I read five things from my soggy chapbook. People applauded after the anti-hipster poem "Me and My Friends Have Sarcastic Beards." They also laughed a lot and seemed to enjoy themselves.

After, we ate some marshmallows, listened to a band, kvetched, etc.

Thank you Leigh for hosting this reading. It was the most surprising reading I've ever been to or in. Good work.

My soggy chapbooks are now available to my sexy blog readers. There's a PayPal link on the sidebar. It's just a little wrinkled. None of the ink was smeared. Everything is still immaculately readable. I will stop whining about money. If you want to just send me $0.01 I will send you a chapbook. If you want me to turn into a cat, I will live in Kendra Grant Malone's windowsill next to her new fan.

6.05.2008

the egyptians invented marshmallows and the boys still love them



I am reposting the info for this reading. I will be selling 32 copies of a $5 chapbook called PETER PAN MOCHA FRENCH TOAST. The title explains where the money goes. Come if you want one.



From Leigh Stein:

Saturday, June 7, 2008 @ 9:00pm
Harrison Space
14 Harrison Pl
Brooklyn , NY


Join us for a poetry reading in the backyard at Harrison Space as part of the Bushwick Arts Festival. There will be fire and there will be marshmallows. Poets will be encouraged to read with flashlights. Drinks provided. Bring your own friends.

Tao Lin is the author of the poetry-collection, COGNITIVE-BEHAVIORAL THERAPY (Melville House, 2008), and a few other books.

Amy King is the author of I’m the Man Who Loves You and Antidotes for an Alibi, both from BlazeVOX Books, The People Instruments (Pavement Saw Press), and most recently, Kiss Me With the Mouth of Your Country (Dusie Press).

Elisa Gabbert, a poet living in Boston, is the author of Thanks for Sending the Engine (Kitchen Press, 2007) and, with Kathleen Rooney, That Tiny Insane Voluptuousness (Otoliths Books, 2008).

Mike Young
co-edits NOÖ Journal, and his poetry chapbook MC Oroville's Answering Machine is forthcoming from Transmission Press.

Leigh Stein is the author of many chapbooks, including How to Mend a Broken Heart with Vengeance (Dancing Girl Press '08). She was recently nominated for Best New Poets.

Directions: take L train to Morgan stop. Exit station at Bogart. Walk down street immediately ahead. Look for golden bomb shelter doors in the ground about 1/2 block up on your right.

Come early & look at art. Stay late & listen to music.

http://artsinbushwick.org

Saturday, June 7, 2008 @ 9:00pm
Harrison Space
14 Harrison Pl
Brooklyn , NY

5.28.2008

5.23.2008

DISCLAIMER FOR MY SUMMER JOB TEACHING SIXTH GRADERS

Most of the content I'm associated with in the world is not suitable for children. Most of the suits I wear make me unable to bear children. When Abel died, he was buried alongside his children in his best suit.

THIS POST IS LEGALLY BINDING

if i'm a monkey you're a really good episode of west wing


News for you: Colin Bassett has launched bearcreekfeed, a cool new online anthology/magazine of long short stories, somewhat like that other online bear thing. The first story up is by Kim Chinquee, famous for her short shorts and her appearances in your sleep.

Rachel: Colin Bassett seems to be from Springfield, Missouri. I don't know why I told you he was from Australia. There might be another Colin from Australia. Am I right on this?

In other news, JACK MORGAN WE LOVE YOU GET UP!

5.20.2008

all the boys love my marshmallow



From Leigh Stein:

Join us for a poetry reading in the backyard at Harrison Space as part of the Bushwick Arts Festival. There will be fire and there will be marshmallows. Poets will be encouraged to read with flashlights. Drinks provided. Bring your own friends.

Tao Lin is the author of the poetry-collection, COGNITIVE-BEHAVIORAL THERAPY (Melville House, 2008), and a few other books.

Jennifer L. Knox is the author of the books A Gringo Like Me and Drunk by Noon, is a three-time contributor to The Best American Poetry series.

Amy King is the author of I’m the Man Who Loves You and Antidotes for an Alibi, both from BlazeVOX Books, The People Instruments (Pavement Saw Press), and most recently, Kiss Me With the Mouth of Your Country (Dusie Press).

Elisa Gabbert, a poet living in Boston, is the author of Thanks for Sending the Engine (Kitchen Press, 2007) and, with Kathleen Rooney, That Tiny Insane Voluptuousness (Otoliths Books, 2008).

Mike Young
co-edits NOÖ Journal, and his poetry chapbook MC Oroville's Answering Machine is forthcoming from Transmission Press.

Leigh Stein is the author of many chapbooks, including How to Mend a Broken Heart with Vengeance (Dancing Girl Press '08). She was recently nominated for Best New Poets.

Directions: take L train to Morgan stop. Exit station at Bogart. Walk down street immediately ahead. Look for golden bomb shelter doors in the ground about 1/2 block up on your right.

Come early & look at art. Stay late & listen to music.

http://artsinbushwick.org

5.16.2008

acclaim


Wigleaf has launched a new online fiction award series called "The Wigleaf Top Very Short Fictions," with the 2008 edition featuring stories from 2007. Three stories from NOÖ [six] and [seven] made the list:

Lydia Copeland's "Haircut"

Mary Miller's "This Boy I Loved a Rock"

and Victoria Sprow's "The Angel Project"


Congratulations to all the winners, and bulky, nougat-filled thanks to Wigleaf editor Scott Garson and guest judge Chad Simpson.

More awards. More. More!

5.14.2008

hotel magazine poems

I've got two poems in Alex Abelson's handsewn Hotel. One is an MC Oroville poem that's the craziest one aside from the collage pieces. Other contributors include CA Conrad, Jim Behrle, Jeni Olin, local friendz Chris Cheney & Trinity Weiss, & more. Email hotelmagazine1@gmail.com to get a copy.