8.26.2009

caught me with my own special


POETS & PUPPETS
Saturday, August 29, 8pm
Brooklyn, NY


BLAKE BUTLER has published more short stories than Jonathan Safran Foer and Nicole Krauss combined. He is the author of EVER, a novella (Calamari Press), and the forthcoming Scorch Atlas, a novel in stories (Featherproof Books).

ISH KLEIN's book, Union! came out April 2009 through the Canarium Press. Her poems have been published in The Canary, Gare du Nord, The Hat magazine, X-connect, Bridge, Spork and are online. She also makes movies and lives in Philadelphia. Please see Ish Klein's new book UNION! http://unionbook.blogspot.com/

DOROTHEA LASKY is the author of AWE (Wave Books, 2007) and Black Life (Wave Books, 2010). Currently, she studies creativity and education at the University of Pennsylvania.

KENDRA GRANT MALONE is the author of five chapbooks, which include Love Your Friends and Not Your Lovers (bore parade) and Conor Oberst Sex (co-written with Tao Lin, forthcoming from Happy Cobra Books). When she came up with the idea for this party, she stole Leigh's heart.

LEIGH STEIN is the author of How to Mend a Broken Heart with Vengeance (Dancing Girl Press) and Least Inhabited Island II (h-ngm-n Combatives). She has always preceded Mike Young alphabetically.

MIKE YOUNG is the author of We Are All Good If They Try Hard Enough (Publishing Genius 2010) and two chapbooks: MC Oroville's Answering Machine (Transmission Press) and Real Sturdy Thing (Stormy Petrel Press). He co-edits NOÖ Journal and Magic Helicopter Press. Visit him online at Mike Young at mikeayoung.blogspot.com.

ALSO APPEARING:

We Play Parties

Josh Garret-Davis

*** Please BYO booze & friends (some friends may be provided).
+++ Email leighstein@gmail.com for the house address.

8.18.2009

what i saw outside a mexican restauraunt in northampton, ma

Outside the Mexican restaurant were two old gay men, one in a silk buttondown and one with peroxided hair and a New England Patriots Super Bowl t-shirt. They were silent, smoking thin brown cigarettes and holding hands.

Then the one in the t-shirt said "One of these days you know, I hope I just get run over by a dump truck."

It's very hard to get a good burrito in Northampton, but it's a nice place to look at your phone and let it ring.

8.17.2009

Preorder THE DRUNK SONNETS, get a free beer koozie!

reposted from the NOÖ Journal blog


Dear friends,

Daniel Bailey's thrump of a full length poetry debut, The Drunk Sonnets (Magic Helicopter Press, Oktoberfest 2009) is now available for pre-order. Only $10 for a boom boom pow of heart gobbling poetry. And what's more, in an exclusive blog deal, the first 10 people to pre-order get a free Drunk Sonnets beer koozie. That's right, your very own purple Daniel Bailey beer koozie. So when you're passed out in your lawn chair or down your chimney, you can totally reprezent with the nation's new favorite drunk poet.

But don't take my smarmy-carnival-barker word for it! Read the following blurbs from K. Silem Mohammad and Sam Pink, and then read the poem below those:

You hear a lot of people these days calling for more sincerity in poetry. Assholes, mostly. But you know what? I can dig sincerity, when it's really sincerely sincere. And nothing is more sincere than some poor drunk guy with a tortured soul sharing his deepest dysfunctions with you. Daniel Bailey's Drunk Sonnets should win a truth-in-advertising award: these poems contain the kind of full-throated, heartbroken, prosodic yodeling that can come only from a close encounter with a tall bottle, or several of them. You can tell they're straight from the booze-soaked heart, because they're IN ALL CAPS. Is this a viable formal device? Can a poet legitimately achieve new heights of eloquence by slow, self-administered alcohol poisoning? Does crapped-pants inarticulacy ever magically transform itself to unparalleled lyric song? Yes, yes, and hell yesh. It may set a bad example for the kids, but this is poetry that grabs you by the shirt collar, sprays rank 80-proof emotion in your face, and makes you like it. Bottoms up.

—K. Silem Mohammad, author of Breathalyzer (Edge Books 2009) and Best American Poetry alum

This book is the result of an emo kid writing a few words then leaving the room to do something else, then a drunk old man walks in and says "What is this goofy garbage," and he edits a few lines but agrees with others, then he leaves the room and a bored but insightful cat walks in with an electrical helmet on that transcribes its boredom onto the page, then it leaves and a man who has wronged many people and been wronged by many people walks in and tries to write what he feels but just sighs and some tears hit the page and the words blend and begin to like each other and finally a five-year-old version of Daniel Bailey walks in, the Midwest sadness embedded as deeply in him as his Kool-Aid moustache, and he puts his hands over the book and blesses it, right before running outside to see who is waiting to play with him and make up more awesome worlds than the one that currently holds his weight.

—Sam Pink, author of I AM GOING TO CLONE MYSELF THEN KILL THE CLONE AND EAT IT (Paper Hero Press, 2009), THE SELF ESTEEM HOLOCAUST COMES HOME (plays, Six Gallery Press), and FROWNS NEED FRIENDS TOO (Afterbirth Books)


DRUNK SONNET 28
—Daniel Bailey


LET’S HAVE A BABY PLEASE
LET’S HAVE A BABY AND WATCH IT GROW
LET’S VIDEOTAPE THE BABY GROWING
LET’S TIMEWARP THE VIDEO

LET’S WATCH THE BABY GROW AT INTENSE SPEEDS
LET’S WATCH IT GO FROM ZERO TO THREE YEARS IN 30 SECONDS
LET’S TOUCH OUR FACES TOGETHER AND KISS
LET’S UNDERSTAND THE WATER THAT KEEPS US ALIVE

LET’S TELL OURSELVES THAT WE ARE NO MISTAKE
LET’S FALL DOWN INTO A PILE OF DUCK BLANKETS
LET’S HAVE SOME FUN FINALLY AND LOVE SOMETHING

LET’S GET AWESOME TOGETHER AND MAKE LIFE GOOD
LET’S HAVE THIS, ALL OF THIS
LET’S NOT BE SAD OR ALONE ANYMORE PLEASE

PREORDER THE DRUNK SONNETS (COMING OKTOBERFEST 2009) TODAY! FIRST TEN ORDERS GET A FREE BEER KOOZIE!

8.16.2009

NOÖ 10!

NOÖ [10]online!

Check it out. Here is some trivia: one of my poetry heroes, Ron Padgett, is in this issue. He seems like a really generous and funny guy from emailing back and forth with him. He didn't like the double dash in lieu of actual em dash in front of the author names on the pages, but that's okay. I think once he sees the final issue he will like it better. NOÖ is full of broken boxes. That's how the chitterlings get in and out.

The cover is a photo found by Superbomba Lucy Diamond-Phillips. Hers is the best collection of found photography on the internet. Several of her pieces appear in the issue. The photo in this post is from her too. I'm going to name my sixth or seventh child Superbomba, unless you just hurry up and let me name yours, dear blog reader. I feel like we're "there" in our relationship.

Ryan Call, my co-editor, found a typo in Kim Chinquee's story "One Below," a line that went "Some bit hit" that should've went "Some big hit." Except, I thought it was a turn of phrase, not a typo. We made a bet. Ryan was right. Now I have to upload a picture of me from my childhood and post it on NOÖ's blog. But I don't have any on my computer. Mom and Dad, it would be funny if you guys found one from my tenth birthday. I don't know how you'd know, but it would be funny. Also you can find one from any birthday and lie and tell me it's from my tenth birthday and I will believe you. Unless, like, I have a beard in the photo.

Other things: running through the crosswalk, sugar cookie as a paint color, a camouflage sun hat, "She likes ham! She does magic!", I need a bike, jean shorts are the new jean shorts, feel positive about my fiber intake, and I want to be the official writer of people who wear nylon gloves, except they can only find one, except three of the holes in that one glove are punched out, except which holes are punched out changes daily, sometimes hourly, sometimes just depending on the moon.

8.13.2009

velvet elvis and secondhand clothes



This is one of the best Alan Jackson songs ever. Now with meerkats.

Things I'm going to do today: make jean shorts, read Willa Cather, work on uploading NOÖ 10. You should read Campbell McGrath's American Noise if you've never done that. Let's browse a river like it's a real estate catalog. Let's make fun of our own shoes. If anybody wants it, there's a king's robe in my kitchen closet. We didn't even lose the sash. What if I ate only bananas and multivitamins for a week-- is that a good idea? Carrots don't give you night vision. Thanks, British Air Force. Right before I took a shower today, I accidentally put my boxers in a bowl of peppers, but they were the clean boxers, the boxers of the future.

8.12.2009

do all people named tom like to paint


Dennis Cooper, who is on the Mt Rushmore of indie lit as Abe Lincoln-with-nice-sport-coats, very sweetly posted a big post on his blog about MC O and some of my music. Big splashes of thanks to Dennis, and thanks as well to my Australian friend David Rylance/Slatted Light for hooking Dennis up with a copy of MC O.

Interactive portion of the blog today: my landlord is painting a lot. He painted the porch blue. He's even painting ceilings. Do all people named Tom like to paint? Please share your opinions in the comments. Bonus points if your name is actually Tom or you know somebody named Tom.

8.11.2009

MC O: available at powells

UPDATE: COPIES AVAILABLE AT POWELL'S, CLICK HERE

Logan Ryan Smith, publisher of Transmission Press, moved to Seattle last week or so, and he couldn't take all his chapbooks with him, so he sent me his remaining copies of MC Oroville's Answering Machine to do with as I please. (All his buttons on the Transmission Press blog are gone, so I'm not sure if he's still going to do Transmission in the future, but I think he his, and I hope he is, because all his chapbooks are really cool. Probably the other people who have chapbooks through him have extra copies of theirs if you email them).

Anyway, I am selling MC O through this blog now for $1.00 plus shipping, which seems like a decent deal, right? Click on the PayPal button to the right, the one under the green cover, and I'll send you a copy. Or find me in person and I will probably just give you one. Or I think there are some stores in the Bay Area that have them, like Pegasus in Berkeley.

If you already ordered one from Logan, I think he has mailed all his orders, so you should get it. If you don't get it in the next week or so, email me and I will send you a copy. Or if you want to review it, I will send you a free copy.

At first, I was a little anxious that people would think it was "sleazy" or "unprofessional" or "vanity publishing" for me to sell my own chapbook, but sleazy hustling is very white trash and so maybe fits the aesthetic of the chapbook. Sure? Sure. Sleazy white trash poetry unite. Also, there are different colors.

8.05.2009

p.s.

New blog url is http://mikeayoung.blogspot.com. The old one, http://noojournal.com/blog, should redirect here, but update yr RSS feeds and all that good stuff.

We Are All Good If They Try Hard Enough will be a brook you can swim in


Some cool news to share with friends, and I think I'm officially allowed to share now that it's on the catalog page: My first full length poetry book, We Are All Good If They Try Hard Enough, will be coming out from Publishing Genius Press in 2010. I like PGP a lot: they publish really awesome stuff that slices the whatever between charm nuts and heart knock like some kind of excellent fencer. Including a neon war balloon of a novel whose film rights were recently bought by Spike Jonze.

Anyway, I am very excited to be working with PGP and the breakdancing soul genius of Adam Robinson, to be publishing a book, to be sharing this news with you. Mizz Chels, famous Oakland fortune teller and confused helmet owner, is doing the cover art. The book is about one face plus or minus another.

A favor: might people suggest things I can do to get people excited about the book? When it comes time for that. Like things I can do that aren't stupid? Like if I tried to bake pretzals with poems embedded, I might end up stupid at that and then no one would like me or my stupid book.

To close: thank you everyone who has read my poems or helped me write them, and thanks as well to everyone who has given me a ride or let me taste something on their plate, acts that go too often unthanked. I've got video of the Bay Area Reading Tour and all the eclairs* (*an eclair is a really cool person) involved, but I have to edit it. First here is a love song that I made on my toy guitar in Oroville and June. It's probably about you:



MARY BLESS A BOY WITH HIS SUNGLASSES


I know your arms
Are there for more
Than me to fall into
I know you do things
With your life
And whoa that's pretty cool!

But if you were a parapet
I'd be the gargoyle
And we'd be a two for one deal.
If you were a sugar beet
I'd be the convict who
Slept out all night in your field.

(seventh of the root!)

Mary bless a boy with his sunglasses
He needs all the help he can get
Mary bless a boy with his sunglasses
Right up until the point that he lo(whoo! whoo!)ses it

Sha da da. Sha da da. Sha da da da da daaa --

We dare the world
To rain on us
When we dress up like this
Your brutal disregard
For reality
Is the thing about you I like best

But if you were a marshmallow
I'd be the campfire
That singes your edges just right
If you were a cocoa leaf
I'd be the one percent
Extract illegal to buy

(repeat seventh of root! repeat chorus!)

I see the world. It's just a little dark.
I see the world. It's just a little dark.
I see the world. It's just a little dark.
I see the world. It's just a little dock.
I see the world. It's just a little dock.
I see the world. It's just a little dock.
I see the world. It's just a little dark.
I see the world. It's just a little dock.

Boop da doop da doop doo.

8.03.2009

Stay Awhile If You Can is a long story about relationships, murals, punks, and community radio

You can read it in Hobart #10 alongside sweet stories by Alicia Gifford, B.J. Hollars, Blake Butler, Claire Vaye Watkins, Amy Clark, Daniel Nester, JoeAnn Hart, Curtis Dawkins, Brad Gayman, Colleen Hollister, and Lori Ostlund, plus comics by Lydia Conklin and John Dermot Woods.

The bonus materials website is up. I am sixteen years old in the picture of me next to the mural. Other facts about the story: the punks in Ashland, OR really did drive an auctioned police car. Rain really rains like that in Oregon. Blueberries do help your memory. The community radio station in Oroville really does have carseats for couches. Oroville really does have a crazy mural guy. His name is Fred. He painted the Eiffel Tower below our swamp cooler. His nephew and I were friends. We rode go-karts. Disney did fire him. In the park is a mural of Ishi, who had to live in a jail for a little while. Sometimes I raced my sister around the park by running on the park wall, which is three feet high and the color of adobe. People steal computer monitors and wooden Indians from the stores downtown. There's a well in the park that doesn't work. There's an alley called Miner's Alley where no one ever parks because they're all at the casino. One day my mother bought me a cowboy shirt, but it didn't fit, so I exchanged it for an authentic Toby Keith hat. What makes me nostalgic are levies, abandoned shopping carts, dogs that swim for no reason, green bridges, bottles of peppermint schnapps broken on trestles, and the California foothill sunset, which is a blind horse with a yellow tongue.