Friday, May 29, 2009

a paragraph composed of the first sentences of all the chapters in my novel in progress

This is the only house in the neighborhood without a basement. The dog is barking. Dad returns, shaken. Had there ever been a front door? Dad removes his toolbox from the hall closet, opens it, grabs a hammer. Dad climbs the stairs to smash a window in his bedroom. Matt likes his room. Dad tells Mom and Paul it’s all mirror. It becomes quieter than quiet. Mom and Paul are hugging. Dad is angry at his wife for seeking retribution against him. Paul’s consciousness lies in bed. The living room feels bloated. Matt is a cardboard box. The front door ages, retires, and dies, leaving behind a severed doorknob. Matt is a cardboard box. Dad reads Ion a bedtime story. Paul is jumping on a bouncy castle. Matt is not a cardboard box.

Monday, May 25, 2009

all of my mother's day flowers are dead

I have a beard and am naked in my brother's old room. My old room is now my mother's Ebay room.

I am in NY. There are a couple of readings in the city I might go to. Probably not though. I would if I could drive rather than train to them. I don't like readings, unless I am reading. I would rather read an author's work myself than hear them say it out loud. I cannot follow a story when it is said out loud unless the speaker is very animated. I fade out a lot. I miss things that are necessary to follow the story. If this happens when I am reading a book, I can backtrack. Although it happens less. I think the only thing I like about going to readings is the hanging out aspect.

The house that I grew up in has a room that I forgot about. There is also now a door that allows me to access the garage from inside the house. This blew my mind when I walked through it. I felt excited.

My parents' are trying to sell the house. A bunch of bookcases are filled with books "for show." It is a schizophrenic mixture of books. A combination of my books/parents' books/brothers' books. Zagat's restaurant guide next to a William Gibson novel. I found the uncorrected proof of Stephen Dixon's Old Friends. Liked it. No typos. Needs a better title. The long paragraphs hurt my eyes. Experimental, but accessible. I like books like this.

What other good Stephen Dixon books are there?

I am not in the kitchen. I am no longer naked. The kitchen is nice. It's sunny. I'll probably spend a lot of time at the table.

Thursday, May 21, 2009


Thinking about moving this blog to my website since it gets barely any hits and my blog gets lots. And it would be nice if people actually checked my website on occasion.

But I don't know since I barely write in this thing any more. Will probably wait until I'm feeling more motivated.

I did my last overnight shift on Tuesday night, stayed up until 9 pm last night, and woke up early today so I could begin my new, normal sleep schedule. I'm happy about the idea of becoming a day person. I've always been a night person, but staying up all night for a year and a half caused me to lust after the idea of becoming a day person. It has given me a newfound appreciation of sunlight.

Going hiking today with a few friends to the highest point in my area. It will be nice. I usually only hike with one person because he's the only guy who's cool with going on early morning hikes with me (since I would go to sleep early in the afternoon). But now I'm going at 1 pm, so others are down as well.

Going to Long Island on Saturday to visit my parents for a little over a week. Might go to Opium's Literary Death Match. My father was buddies with one of the readers in high school.

Flying to Boulder around the beginning of next month. Naropa's summer program starts a few weeks later. My first workshop is with Laird Hunt.

Need to start writing fiction again. Haven't done that in a bunch of days. Was working on a novel-sort of thing. But got tired of it. Stopped around 5000 words. Hoping being in my childhood home will reignite my interest in the "book" because that is the setting.

Have been reading tons of books lately.

Monday, May 11, 2009

voice mail

Eric Blair left me a message asking if I knew anyone who wanted to get a short poem or story published in a zine that no one reads. He emphasized that you will receive a contributor's copy. If so, send email to: ericblair23 at

Sunday, May 3, 2009

send me your stories

I just reopened submissions for Bust Down the Door and Eat All the Chickens. It's going to be an online issue. Looking for stories and prose poems less than 2000 words. Guidelines here:

Not sure if it will be a PDF or an HTML issue. Leaning towards HTML. Blake Butler has offered to help out with that. I'm a lousy web designer.

We'll be releasing issues online rather than in print from now on until I either graduate from college in two years or find the money to pay for a print run.

Maybe I should start looking into an NEA grant or something? No idea.

The next issue will still be print though and it should be out sometime in the summer. I'm still looking for cover art. Otherwise, it's finished.

Saturday, May 2, 2009

our prices are insaaaane

I am a slave to email. My email program is on all the time. It checks for new email every minute. When I receive a new one, I hear a soothing sound. If I am not depressed or tired or in pain I will respond to the email the moment I get it. I will stop what I'm doing to do this. Otherwise, there is a fifty percent chance that I will forget to respond.

I already wrote about this on twitter, but if you have been meaning to buy my novel, It Came from Below the Belt, now would be a good time. It would be appreciated. I can only bring two suitcases with me when I move to Colorado. I need to cut down on stuff that I need to bring. I guess I could mail stuff to myself, but that costs and I already need to mail a bunch of other stuff. I have a bunch of copies left:

Here is a book review:

As I mentioned before, same deal with the last issue of Bust Down the Door and Eat All the Chickens:

It is on sale. My novel is not on sale. This is because I'm all like, "If you've been meaning to buy it, do it now!" rather than "I know you probably don't want it and I'm going to use my special marketing tricks to make you want it, which involves rearranging the molecules in your brain by shooting a laser beam at your head from space."

I will be utilizing my space laser to get people to buy the last issue of Bust.

Jeff Burk is the editor of The Magazine of Bizarro Fiction. I think the first issue is coming out soon. I can't remember when. My "How to Write a Short Story!" piece is being reprinted in it. Jeff Burk is a really nice guy. He has a mohawk. His novella, Shatnerquake, is #147 on Amazon's sales chart: