Hi friends, I am going to be in Baltimore this Saturday for Baltimore's first Literary Death Match, in which I will be duking it out for the pride of Publishing Genius Press. If you're in the area, you should scoot on by. I've heard you need to read stories about photocopying your butt or something to win. Hopefully this is not true. I like winning, but I have no stories about photocopying any kind of butt. And yes, after a gracious early morning ride from Mister Nathaniel Otting, my favorite girl and I will be taking the train:
at 1:46 PM
I'm about to go grocery shopping. List is pretty well decided. However, there's a chance that I will shop for groceries again at some future juncture. What will I get then? Who knows. You, that's who. That's right: I am now accepting Entries for a Contest I call "tell me something to buy from the grocery store in the comments." I think you can figure it out. Unless your Contest Entry includes kale, eggs, or olives, I reserve the right to total skepticism.
at 4:57 PM
Hi lovelies. Back in California. Homemade pizza. Avocado. Thanks, Mom. Excited to go back to Massachusetts, to see Carolyn and friends. Talked with Dad in diner last week about the West Coast being tired. He got it. Ergo, fog. Waitress was funny. She made fat jokes about herself. Portola was funny. A bunch of snowmobilers drank Bloody Marys early last Sunday. Had some awesome tacos. Who knew. Portola. Portland was terrific. Ate Ethiopian pancake stuff with Bryan and Willie. There was a menacing Russian in the back and a man wearing a dress. Amazing food. Lentils, peas, collard greens, certain spices. Haven't had Ethiopian pancake stuff since Vancouver 2006. Saw Andrew Jackson Jihad. They talked too much between songs but they were hellbent. Cabbed to Voodoo Donuts after the show. There was some confusion over whether I "forced" Bryan to high five a drunk accountant lady or whether this was "all in good fun." Ate an apple fritter and an "ol' dirty bastard." Bryan let us bite his maple bar. Spent too much money at Powell's. Made a promotional video with Kevin Sampsell, who's delightful, as are his girlfriend and son. Kevin gave me a copy of Lewis Nordan's memoir. Nordan talks convincingly about having feelings that are not condoned by cultural norms or sitcoms. I like it. Dropped some NOÖs off at Reading Frenzy. Rain and cheesy popcorn in a ziploc. Portland has the most authentic beards I've ever seen. Willie let me eat his kimchi radish. Three hours of sleep before my bus back to California. Felt like the Mountain Goats song "See America Right." Oregon mist dawn around Grant's Pass. Very pretty. Cattle and fog. Wrote a song about not dying and Carolyn. Girl behind me on the bus kept reading aloud from her "Courtney killed Kurt" conspiracy book. Rachel B Glaser joined Facebook. Stunned. My sister has a bird that rotates around its beak because of some gravitational idea, which is sitting in her room right now. The bird's feathers are buzzed by pink.
PLEASE IMMORTALIZE SOME SMALL THING YOU'VE SEEN RECENTLY BY MENTONING IT IN THE COMMENTS SECTION
at 4:22 AM
Hi friends, I am in Portland. Lots of rain and food carts. Bryan Coffelt and Willie Ziebell's apartment has a beautiful view of the river. Lots of leggings, beards, heroin stumbling, street lamps, and friendly beer pontificating. Meeting supersonic folks like Kevin Sampsell, Frayn Masters, and hopefully Michael Schaub. Going to see some folk punk on Friday. Ate a torta and a pita. Cruised through the rain. Strong coffee.
Over at the Fictionaut blog, Meg Pokrass asked me some terrific questions and I tried to give decent answers. Check it out here. Ditto with Josh Bolton for his amazing blog Wolf In a Field, which is full of great stuff. Gawk my contribution here.
And cool news: Word Riot Press is going to put out a collection of my short stories, Look! Look! Feathers, in Fall 2010. Many thanks to Jackie Corley. Very excited to be working with WRP. Thanks to everyone who has published, helped me with, or read any of my stories. The oldest story in the book was begun in 2005. It's about a magic cyst. Being in Portland makes one sort of overwhelmed but very excited about small press literature, since it is so prevalent and healthy here. Must be all that irrigation.
at 8:22 PM