Thursday, March 26, 2009

jello jigglers

Someone give me a topic for a prose poem. I'll make you feel special. I'll submit it to your lit mag. Doesn't everybody who reads this have one of those?

I need to get back into it, maaan.

Getting antsy. Haven't worked on anything new (except that story for my bro's birthday) in a month or so.

Withdrawal symptoms.

Have done a lot a lot a lot of editing during this time. Dragons with Cancer, the new Bust, my novel.

I want to write one prose poem a day. I don't want a substantial project.

I need to write an essay. So I'm going to do it on Steve Erickson. Have been rereading his books. Taking lots lots lots of notes. Feels like it's been keeping me from writing. I'll make the time.

I was trying to fall asleep, but I stopped trying to fall asleep so I could write this post.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

i hope everybody who works for paypal pisses lava until they die from pissing lava

The current issue of Bust Down the Door and Eat All the Chickens is on sale for a limited time. Get it HERE.

I also have two copies left of issue 6.

I also have no idea why my status of having eighty-one verified sales never goes up regardless of how many people buy an issue.


UPDATE: The story has been chosen.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

angry dwarfs

I'm going to put the current issue of Bust on sale soon. It will be the "I am moving across the country and can only bring what I can fit into a suitcase" sale.

I started using twitter:

I signed up a while ago, but couldn't figure out its purpose.

I have figured out its purpose.

I am enjoying it. More than blogger, I think.

Andersen Prunty is serializing a novel online:

I like it so far.

I don't like reading novels online. He's one of the only people whose novel I will read online. Him and Noah Cicero. I will only read Ohio writers online. This is my new rule.

I just registered for my summer classes. It filled me with happiness.

I've been looking through my old college essays. I need to use one for a writing sample so I can apply for a job at my school's writing center.

This is a good part of an essay about Tarkovsky's Solaris:

And what are we to take from that fact that Sartorius’s "visitor" is an angry dwarf. The "visitors" are supposed to be some part of the men’s subconscious. So is this dwarf somebody who was important to Sartorius or is he merely a representation for his personality. It would make sense - Sartorius is cold, scientific, emotionless, and calculating. The dwarf can represent that he is angry, and his growth has been stilted emotionally.

I am a big fan of angry dwarfs in films. This reminded me of the film that has been a personal favorite of mine - "The Angry Dwarf." I think that the dwarf should have been given far more screen time.

I don't think I will be using this essay (and the movie is actually called "The Sinful Dwarf")

I might use an essay that I wrote about a few Fassbinder movies. But it is twenty pages long and I need to make it five to seven. This probably won't be too difficult. The beginning embarrasses me:

You might be asked as you walk down the street some day, “Just exactly what is postmodernism, you intellectual bastard?” To that, you may be pretentious and quote Fredric Jameson by saying that post-modernism is “a neutral practice of such mimicry, without any of parody’s ulterior motives, devoid of...any conviction that alongside the abnormal tongue you have momentarily borrowed, some healthy linguistic normality still exists (Shaviro, 7). Or you could reply as the Zen master would to their student, with perhaps including with it a quick jab to the head with a stick, “Just what is is?,” For post-modernism cannot be defined in simple terms - it is a reflection of our way of life. It cannot be defined in words because according to postmodernism, words are meaningless and empty. All that we can do with words is seize and distort them, for they never had any original meaning, only what we chose to bestow upon them.

Maybe I'll just have to write something new. I haven't written a critical essay in eight years. Maybe I'll write one on the novels of Steve Erickson.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

submissions call for poetry

I belong to a useless social networking site. I get a couple of messages a month through it that usually say something like "You seem interesting" or "How are you?" When this happens, I either ignore it, thank them, or if I'm in the mood, write something funny and ridiculous. They never write back when I write something funny and ridiculous. Most of the profiles on the site consist of a picture and a sentence. Usually something inane.

A couple of days ago, I received this message from a sixty-year-old unemployed, bipolar prison guard with high cholesterol (his age seems to have dropped to forty-nine since the last time google's webcrawling spider hit his profile):

... and yet despite all your efforts you still remain tedious

I love getting stuff like this (and I'm not being sarcastic when I say that). I love it when anonymous strangers insult me for no apparent reason. And it happens so infrequently that it feels like an early birthday present. Threats of physical violence are even better. But unfortunately, this did not happen.

I wondered if he called me "tedious" because of what I wrote in my profile:

My interests include absurdism, surrealism, bizarro fiction, condensed writing, comics, cleverness, off-color humor, finger monsters, and napping.

I wrote a novel called IT CAME FROM BELOW THE BELT and I edit a journal called BUST DOWN THE DOOR AND EAT ALL THE CHICKENS.

I guess my list of interests is a little too "precious."

Since the social networking network is utterly useless, it didn't save what I wrote back to him. But I will try to remember:

Anonymous insults on the internet are funny. Good job.

He responds:

I can't remember which commentof yours I am replying to ... but... you are a prime time poseur!

In England we call your sort 'Tossers'.

This confused me because I've never written a comment on this social networking website (it has music and books discussion).

I also loved getting called a poseur because it reminded me of sixth grade, where it was a popular word among bullies and didn't seem to have a meaning besides being an alternative to the word, "dork."

While reading my new friend's latest message, I imagined the main character from Gasper Noe's I Stand Alone, sitting nude in a dark room. The room is empty, except for a computer, desk, and office chair that he is sitting in. The glare from the computer monitor revealing that he's pumping an erect penis with one hand and typing furiously (and poorly) with the other. The glare from the computer monitor shows his enormous belly puffing up and down. The glare from the computer monitor shows that his face is red, his teeth clenched in rage. He types another insult and strokes himself some more. He is also wearing a funny glasses/mustache disguise that makes him look like Groucho Marx since that's the picture he uses for his profile.

I respond with something like:

I like being called a poseur. What exactly am I trying to be? Someone who comments on this website since I've never actually done it before? In America we call your sort anonymous men who insult strangers so they can feel better about creeping closer to death. I am glad that I have been able to help you feel better.

Then I was looking forward to learning what I was trying to be. If I disagreed with his assessment, I was going to tell him that he was incorrect. That I have always wanted to be an amoeba. And that I had just added 'the person who sneaks up behind you and pops a balloon in next to your ear' to the list.

But unfortunately, he did not tell me what I wanted to know. He replied:

"Creeping closer to death."

Maybe you could write an epic pome about it?

Since I'm pretty sure he was soliciting an epic poem from me rather than a type of fruit produced by flowering plants in the subfamily Maloideae of the family Rosaceae and the error was due to furious masturbation, I responded:

I hate writing poetry, but maybe one of my poet friends wants to write a poem about an old man who insults strangers on the internet to make himself feel better about his imminent death. I will get back to you.

I think he overdid it a little bit by asking for an epic poem, but does anyone want to write a significantly shorter poem about an old man who insults strangers on the internet to make himself feel better about his imminent death?

He is now accepting submissions in the comments section of his blog:

It's also a good place to visit if you're having trouble sleeping.

Update: He has accepted poems by Jess Gulbranson and Brandi Wells. Congratulations!

Maybe I will write a prose poem. I like writing prose poems.


I like it a lot when a black guy calls me a nigga. I wish it happened more often.

I think maybe I should start actually using twitter to express things like this. I have an account, but I never use it.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009


Elizabeth O'Hara is this blog's #1 fan.

I do not know where Ryan Call's cookies are.

I want to start wearing sweaters and penny loafers rather than ten year old moth-eaten t-shirts and jeans. It will be funny.

I found a place to live in Boulder for the summer. I feel relieved. Now I need a place to live for the rest of the year and the next year and some of the next year.

I want someone to chase me through the kitchen of a five star restaurant.

Attack the wack.

Saturday, March 7, 2009

Bust news

I just filled the next issue. It feels great whenever this happens. It always takes a long time to fill the last story slot for some reason. There are still twenty or so submissions to respond to. If one or more of them are great, then the size of the issue will expand.

It is a very good issue. It suffers from token female writer syndrome like most issues of Bust. I feel like it is a kinder and friendlier Bust Down the Door and Eat All the Chickens, except for a story where Mitt Romney pleasures himself with his mouth and a story by D. Harlan Wilson where many people get shot with bullets. D. Harlan Wilson is great at cartoonish violence. I think I'm tired of violent stories, unless D. Harlan Wilson writes them.

Last issue, I rejected a bunch of good stories because they made me depressed. This was the beginning of Bust's evolution. I used to really be into black humor. I still am, but I'm shying away from it now. I think all of the "extreme" stories in the last issue had black humor, except for Blake's. I am getting tired of "extreme" stories. I'm not sure how I would describe Blake's story since it's dark, not really humorous, and I still loved it. I think it exists in a different dimension.

A lot of the stories in the new issue are more uplifting and bittersweet than stories in the past. A lot of them are written in a simple language and feel magical. This is the sort of fiction that I'm interested in reading and writing now. I think the contents of each new issue reflects me tastes at the time of its release.

I'm going to try to get away from negativity in my writing. And black humor. Less people will get killed in my writing. I want to write things that will make me happy to be alive. I want people to read it and feel happy to be alive. I'm not sure if I'm happy to be alive, but maybe I can write myself into feeling this way.

I think Shane Jones has been a big influence on me in the regard of happy surrealism. He also has a story in the issue. Maybe Richard Brautigan is also an influence on me. But Shane Jones is corporeal, so he is more inspirational. It is conceivable to see him and touch him and send him an email. And if I write about him in my blog, he will probably read it. I hope I get to meet him on Sunday.

I don't know if I will succeed at this happy surrealism idea. I think it's natural for me to be negative. I will work on a story and write negative things and then delete them and write happy things. I will do this until I stop writing negative things. I think I am maturing or something. I might be writing another shock value-y novel for a publisher though. Hopefully I can turn the content of my writing on and off.

Steve Aylett also has a story in the issue. His writing is the polar opposite of simple. He is also very negative. But his fiction is not shock value-y. I consider him my "favorite author." I don't know if I will continue to feel this way after I read his next book. I think Steve and I might be growing apart. Including him in the next issue seems like an act of nostalgia. I think people will like his story a lot.

Two authors who have stories in the next issue are locals (and I think Shane lives like an hour away). I've never put out a journal with a story from more than one local author (and it's usually something really short from a friend). It's too bad I'm moving to Boulder in June because that's when the issue should be coming out. If I wasn't moving, we could have a reading/release party. I think I'm happy regarding every other aspect of moving.

I still need cover art for the next issue. Usually I put absolutely no effort into getting art and find something that's awesome. I'll stumble across something online, love it, and contact the artist about using it. Or I'll contact an artist who I really like about drawing something. Or an artist will email me something I like even though I don't put anything in my guidelines about submitting art.

But I just updated the guidelines looking for art and sent a myspace bulletin through Bust's page since a lot of artists add me as friends. I also posted on livejournal's pop surrealism group because I while back I figured out that pretty much all of my covers use art that can be classified as such.

The following issue will be an online, flash fiction edition. I might continue to do online issues until after I finish grad school because money is probably going to be tight (and my funding minimal). Maybe I should apply for some grants and try to remain print after doing the online issue?

Sometimes I feel a wave of panic after I send an email. Because I cannot take it back.

8tml Reader Series chat log

Mike: hey dude
march 9th
a monday
you want to read with blake?
and some other folks?
at amherst books?

Bradley: yes. thanks. awesome.

Mike: it would be 8pm

Bradley: ok

Mike: sweet
i think it will be you, blake, rachel b glaser, peter jay shippy, and chris cheney


Listen carefully. This chat log contains a lot of misinformation.

It will be on Sunday, March 8th, not 9th.

It is at 6pm, not 8 pm.

It is at The Black Sheep Cafe, not Amherst Books

Claire Donato is reading, not Peter Jay Shippy.