Rushed for time, so copy and paste:
You can check out the latest issue of NOÖ Journal today! Work from such beauties as Matt Bell, Mary Hamilton, Ari Field, Bradley Sands, Bonnie Zobell, Loren Goodman, and many more. Stuff about the age of the ebook; The Greying Ghost; chapbooks/books by Dobby Gibson, Carrie Hunter, Jon Leon; a time machine; lots of babies; a spittle bug; a painful breakfast; a billboard of thanks; and more.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Friday, August 14, 2009
A blog entry!
First things first:
The new issue of Bust Down the Door and Eat All the Chickens is out.
Includes stories by Shane Jones, Steve Aylett, D. Harlan Wilson, Christopher Higgs, Sean Casey, Ben Stein, Katy Wimhurst, and Ryan W. Bradley.
Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, werewolves, transsexuals, and Frankenstein monsters, step right up and see curiosities and monstrosities, wonders and horrors like you've never seen before! See the terror of the Antipodes, the ferocious platypus! Behold the dark, twisted longings of the Satanic progeny of the magus Joseph Smith! For the first time anywhere see the elusive metaphor in captivity! And see the most rare and shy of entities, here for your amusement is the good life! Step right up and break through the barriers set up to protect the tender juicy white meat of your fragile mind, step right up and watch as we BUST DOWN THE DOOR AND EAT ALL THE CHICKENS!
Buy it here: www.absurdistjournal.com/current.htm
Personal things:
My new house doesn’t really have an internet connection. It’s been nice. I’ve been a lot more productive. I’m writing this blog entry in a Microsoft Word document.
When I first moved here, my housemate, who is another MFA student, told me the only way I could get an internet connection is to steal someone’s wifi by going into the upstairs bathroom and standing in the shower with my laptop resting on the window sill. But my battery only lasts for three minutes, so I would only have time to download my email. I did this a few times, feeling totally ridiculous, afraid I would drop my laptop on the shower floor.
Later, I was told by another housemate that I could get a connection from the garage, so that’s what I do these days, although it is not very dependable.
The semester starts in ten days. Have been looking forward to it. It will be a nice, relaxing change from the intensive summer program. One of the classes I’m taking is on reading and writing noir. It’s cool because Will Christopher Baer used to be the professor’s student and Will Christopher Baer is one of my favorite authors.
Have been looking for a work study/on campus job like crazy. Nervous about that. Need money to pay rent. Did a few interviews. One was at the Allen Ginsberg Library. Didn’t get that one. Bummed about it. Suspect cute girls were hired over me. Have always wanted to work at a library. Usually when I apply, I get a “Do you have any library experience?” response. Would have been nice to have gotten some library experience.
Still waiting to hear back about a position in the writing center.
Have also been reading and writing like crazy. Spent a couple of weeks reading like three books a day. They were usually pretty short. It was the opposite of my book depression-affliction that I suffered about a year ago where I didn’t like anything/couldn’t finish anything. I liked nearly everything. Went back to some of the books that “defeated” me during my book depression and flew through them.
Everything I write these days seems to be novelette-sized. I wrote the first draft of one in four days. Now working on another about a ninja. It’s going great. Hoping to be finished before school starts. If not, no big deal.
Looking forward to meeting Daniel Bailey and another writer who I like who emailed me about getting a beer. I like his stuff and had no idea he lived in the area.
My story, In the Restaurant, won a &Now award (subtitled: The Best Innovative Writing. It’s described as “Your friendly neighborhood anti-Pushcart Prize collection.” The story will be reprinted in their anthology, which is coming out in a couple of months.
Found out my cousin who I haven’t seen in maybe ten years is getting her Masters in psychology at the same school as me and just moved here. Big coincidence. Met her a couple of days ago. It was nice.
Things are really good, except for the dire financial situation. Have been living off credit for the past couple of weeks.
The new issue of Bust Down the Door and Eat All the Chickens is out.
Includes stories by Shane Jones, Steve Aylett, D. Harlan Wilson, Christopher Higgs, Sean Casey, Ben Stein, Katy Wimhurst, and Ryan W. Bradley.
Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, werewolves, transsexuals, and Frankenstein monsters, step right up and see curiosities and monstrosities, wonders and horrors like you've never seen before! See the terror of the Antipodes, the ferocious platypus! Behold the dark, twisted longings of the Satanic progeny of the magus Joseph Smith! For the first time anywhere see the elusive metaphor in captivity! And see the most rare and shy of entities, here for your amusement is the good life! Step right up and break through the barriers set up to protect the tender juicy white meat of your fragile mind, step right up and watch as we BUST DOWN THE DOOR AND EAT ALL THE CHICKENS!
Buy it here: www.absurdistjournal.com/current.htm
Personal things:
My new house doesn’t really have an internet connection. It’s been nice. I’ve been a lot more productive. I’m writing this blog entry in a Microsoft Word document.
When I first moved here, my housemate, who is another MFA student, told me the only way I could get an internet connection is to steal someone’s wifi by going into the upstairs bathroom and standing in the shower with my laptop resting on the window sill. But my battery only lasts for three minutes, so I would only have time to download my email. I did this a few times, feeling totally ridiculous, afraid I would drop my laptop on the shower floor.
Later, I was told by another housemate that I could get a connection from the garage, so that’s what I do these days, although it is not very dependable.
The semester starts in ten days. Have been looking forward to it. It will be a nice, relaxing change from the intensive summer program. One of the classes I’m taking is on reading and writing noir. It’s cool because Will Christopher Baer used to be the professor’s student and Will Christopher Baer is one of my favorite authors.
Have been looking for a work study/on campus job like crazy. Nervous about that. Need money to pay rent. Did a few interviews. One was at the Allen Ginsberg Library. Didn’t get that one. Bummed about it. Suspect cute girls were hired over me. Have always wanted to work at a library. Usually when I apply, I get a “Do you have any library experience?” response. Would have been nice to have gotten some library experience.
Still waiting to hear back about a position in the writing center.
Have also been reading and writing like crazy. Spent a couple of weeks reading like three books a day. They were usually pretty short. It was the opposite of my book depression-affliction that I suffered about a year ago where I didn’t like anything/couldn’t finish anything. I liked nearly everything. Went back to some of the books that “defeated” me during my book depression and flew through them.
Everything I write these days seems to be novelette-sized. I wrote the first draft of one in four days. Now working on another about a ninja. It’s going great. Hoping to be finished before school starts. If not, no big deal.
Looking forward to meeting Daniel Bailey and another writer who I like who emailed me about getting a beer. I like his stuff and had no idea he lived in the area.
My story, In the Restaurant, won a &Now award (subtitled: The Best Innovative Writing. It’s described as “Your friendly neighborhood anti-Pushcart Prize collection.” The story will be reprinted in their anthology, which is coming out in a couple of months.
Found out my cousin who I haven’t seen in maybe ten years is getting her Masters in psychology at the same school as me and just moved here. Big coincidence. Met her a couple of days ago. It was nice.
Things are really good, except for the dire financial situation. Have been living off credit for the past couple of weeks.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
boo
I want to go into a bar and go up to lots of people and say, "Hello, I am a ghost." I hope people will buy me drinks.
ffffffffffffvvffff. My f key is not working very well.
I read a story in Laird Hunt's Paris Stories that made me want to be a ghost when I die. I read it after my urge to impersonate a ghost at a bar.
I think maybe I don't really want to DIE, and ghosts only die, so I'm ok with that. You don't have to worry about money when you're a ghost. Or food or shelter. You can travel all the time. Do whatever you want to do. The ghost in Laird Hunt's story said she never gets lonely because there are a lot of ghosts to keep her company. I imagine a lot of people have died. I'll write books and other ghosts will read them and enjoy them. We'll connect on a human level. Being a ghost is awesome.
I read at an open mic tonight. I love reading. I hate open mics. I need to schedule my own readings. I don't know how to do this.
I'm going to write a totally different book from the one I originally intended for my three day novella. I write first person pov much quicker than third. I started the book that I originally intended to do a while ago. I wrote a little more than a page of third person narration. I wasn't enjoying it so I stopped. I read it yesterday. It was really great. I want to continue with it, but keep the same style/tone. Need to keep it third person. I can't write a third person book in three days.
I'm going to write a book called Untitled Bradley Sands Project. If it actually ends up publishable, I might keep it.
ffffffffffffvvffff. My f key is not working very well.
I read a story in Laird Hunt's Paris Stories that made me want to be a ghost when I die. I read it after my urge to impersonate a ghost at a bar.
I think maybe I don't really want to DIE, and ghosts only die, so I'm ok with that. You don't have to worry about money when you're a ghost. Or food or shelter. You can travel all the time. Do whatever you want to do. The ghost in Laird Hunt's story said she never gets lonely because there are a lot of ghosts to keep her company. I imagine a lot of people have died. I'll write books and other ghosts will read them and enjoy them. We'll connect on a human level. Being a ghost is awesome.
I read at an open mic tonight. I love reading. I hate open mics. I need to schedule my own readings. I don't know how to do this.
I'm going to write a totally different book from the one I originally intended for my three day novella. I write first person pov much quicker than third. I started the book that I originally intended to do a while ago. I wrote a little more than a page of third person narration. I wasn't enjoying it so I stopped. I read it yesterday. It was really great. I want to continue with it, but keep the same style/tone. Need to keep it third person. I can't write a third person book in three days.
I'm going to write a book called Untitled Bradley Sands Project. If it actually ends up publishable, I might keep it.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
100% free porn robocop
Blarg. Probably shouldn't have poured expired milk in my cereal this morning.
My summer writing program is long over. Cool workshops. The stuff in the afternoon wasn't so good, like lectures and panels. Too much of a poetry slant. Did a presentation during a panel about how to start a lit journal. Highlights were the workshops with Laird Hunt and Brian Evenson (and Joanna Howard). Saw him dance to a Michael Jackson song. Liked Selah Saterstrom's weekly class a lot. I don't know why I don't hear about her books more often. You should read them. Michelle Ellsworth's performance was great, although I was ill. Was in her workshop for the first day, but switched to Evenson's for the second after someone dropped out. Made a teacup breakdance on its own volition for like five minutes. Saw people breakdancing on yuppie street a few days ago. Couldn't see much since they were ground level and people were blocking my view.
Met lots of people. Nice to be part of a scene that doesn't exist mostly on the internet.
Things are happening.
New issue of Zygote in My Coffee with my prose poem, "A Suicidal Amputee Tries to Kill Himself by Rolling Off His Bed, Down the Stairs, Through the Screen Door, and Into Traffic; Some Dominican Kids Poke Him With Sticks Too, and an Eagle Shits on Him" Thanks Jerome for the prompt.
Afterbirth Books is putting out my novella collection, Disappointing Sophomoric Effort, maybe before the end of the year.
Raw Dog Screaming Press is putting out my short story collection, My Heart Said No, But the Camera Crew Said Yes!, next year.
Another book was accepted for publication that I can't talk about yet.
My novella that appeared in The Bizarro Starter Kit (Blue)-- Cheesequake Smash-up-- was nominated for The &NOW Awards: The Best Innovative Writing.
Have been posting under A_Lawn_Gnome for Twitter 66. Probably should do that more.
Have a bunch of time to kill. School doesn't begin again until the end of August. Psyched for a relaxed semester. Summer program was a little too much. Spending 13 hours a day at school almost every day for a month. Although that's with lots of breaks.
Doing a 3 day novella writing challenge starting Thursday. Gina Ranalli is joining in. Maybe Sam Pink. Maybe others. Join in.
Blarg.
My summer writing program is long over. Cool workshops. The stuff in the afternoon wasn't so good, like lectures and panels. Too much of a poetry slant. Did a presentation during a panel about how to start a lit journal. Highlights were the workshops with Laird Hunt and Brian Evenson (and Joanna Howard). Saw him dance to a Michael Jackson song. Liked Selah Saterstrom's weekly class a lot. I don't know why I don't hear about her books more often. You should read them. Michelle Ellsworth's performance was great, although I was ill. Was in her workshop for the first day, but switched to Evenson's for the second after someone dropped out. Made a teacup breakdance on its own volition for like five minutes. Saw people breakdancing on yuppie street a few days ago. Couldn't see much since they were ground level and people were blocking my view.
Met lots of people. Nice to be part of a scene that doesn't exist mostly on the internet.
Things are happening.
New issue of Zygote in My Coffee with my prose poem, "A Suicidal Amputee Tries to Kill Himself by Rolling Off His Bed, Down the Stairs, Through the Screen Door, and Into Traffic; Some Dominican Kids Poke Him With Sticks Too, and an Eagle Shits on Him" Thanks Jerome for the prompt.
Afterbirth Books is putting out my novella collection, Disappointing Sophomoric Effort, maybe before the end of the year.
Raw Dog Screaming Press is putting out my short story collection, My Heart Said No, But the Camera Crew Said Yes!, next year.
Another book was accepted for publication that I can't talk about yet.
My novella that appeared in The Bizarro Starter Kit (Blue)-- Cheesequake Smash-up-- was nominated for The &NOW Awards: The Best Innovative Writing.
Have been posting under A_Lawn_Gnome for Twitter 66. Probably should do that more.
Have a bunch of time to kill. School doesn't begin again until the end of August. Psyched for a relaxed semester. Summer program was a little too much. Spending 13 hours a day at school almost every day for a month. Although that's with lots of breaks.
Doing a 3 day novella writing challenge starting Thursday. Gina Ranalli is joining in. Maybe Sam Pink. Maybe others. Join in.
Blarg.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
dreams are boring
First full day of writing program classes. Very busy. Just finished my homework for the night. Feels weird to type "homework."
Yesterday, I heard a recording of Allen Ginsberg. Last night, had a dream where I was sitting next to Allen Ginsberg in the audience of a Quiz show. Jack Kerouac was a contestant. A sorta flapper version of Paris Hilton was playing. She was molesting Jack Kerouac. He was not happy about this.
I once went to an Acumen concert in NYC at The Bat Cave. A man and a woman were standing in front of the stage, rubbing the bassist's crotch. He was not happy about this. He was trying to get away. He was unsuccessful.
I was simultaneously Jack Kerouac and myself. Allen Ginsberg was simultaneously the flapper and himself. He was wearing her clothes. Allen Ginsberg was rubbing me. Not sure if I was happy about this. Maybe uncomfortable. Maybe an emotion I cannot comprehend since it was a dream.
Ended up without clothes. Suddenly, Jack Kerouac was dead. Suddenly Allen and I were in his apartment. It was sort of a museum. Nothing had been changed/removed since the day he died. For some reason, the flapper lived next door. Did something in her apartment. Don't recall what. Not sure if she's dead or not home.
Put on Jack's clothes at Allen's suggestion. Wearing sweat pants. Leave. Find it the authorities are all pissed that I stole Jack's clothes. It's a really big deal. They are pissed. There was a journal in my pocket, which makes it much worse. Odd how I didn't notice the wait of the journal while I was in sweat pants.
Return the clothes. Past crimes are forgiven. Authorities are ok with me hanging out in Jack's old apartment. Allen and I chill.
Dreams are boring.
Yesterday, I heard a recording of Allen Ginsberg. Last night, had a dream where I was sitting next to Allen Ginsberg in the audience of a Quiz show. Jack Kerouac was a contestant. A sorta flapper version of Paris Hilton was playing. She was molesting Jack Kerouac. He was not happy about this.
I once went to an Acumen concert in NYC at The Bat Cave. A man and a woman were standing in front of the stage, rubbing the bassist's crotch. He was not happy about this. He was trying to get away. He was unsuccessful.
I was simultaneously Jack Kerouac and myself. Allen Ginsberg was simultaneously the flapper and himself. He was wearing her clothes. Allen Ginsberg was rubbing me. Not sure if I was happy about this. Maybe uncomfortable. Maybe an emotion I cannot comprehend since it was a dream.
Ended up without clothes. Suddenly, Jack Kerouac was dead. Suddenly Allen and I were in his apartment. It was sort of a museum. Nothing had been changed/removed since the day he died. For some reason, the flapper lived next door. Did something in her apartment. Don't recall what. Not sure if she's dead or not home.
Put on Jack's clothes at Allen's suggestion. Wearing sweat pants. Leave. Find it the authorities are all pissed that I stole Jack's clothes. It's a really big deal. They are pissed. There was a journal in my pocket, which makes it much worse. Odd how I didn't notice the wait of the journal while I was in sweat pants.
Return the clothes. Past crimes are forgiven. Authorities are ok with me hanging out in Jack's old apartment. Allen and I chill.
Dreams are boring.
Monday, June 8, 2009
this place
Have been in Boulder since Monday. It's great. Paradise, except for when the weather is bad. Big hail stones earlier today. Lasted a few minutes. Meeting a professor tomorrow at a coffee shop. Orientation starts Thursday.
Chose the cover art for the next issue of Bust. Doing last minutes on the issue.
Have an urge to tweet "Masturbating" five times so it fills the right side of my blog. Holding back because it would be really annoying for people who follow me on twitter.
Living in a neighborhood with lots of young college students for the next couple of months. Sometimes gets noisy at night. Annoying
Offered a room in an awesome apartment outside of Boulder starting in August. Would be living with an elderly man who is an ex-priest/ex-judge, semi-retired Jungian psychologist. We hit it off. The area is beautiful. Even more beautiful than Boulder. Quiet. The community is like a country club. Only problem is it's a little far from school and I'm trying to avoid bringing my car up, which I might do if I take this place and busing is too much of a pain.
Walked to campus a few days ago. Beautiful. Tiniest campus I've ever seen. There's two more of them elsewhere in the city. I may never step foot on either of those.
There's a miniature golf course in Denver called Adventure Golf. I want to play. Tiki head and volcano spits fire. You have to hit your ball through a haunted house.
The first issue of The Magazine of Bizarro Fiction is out. There's a reprint of my "How to Write a Short Story!" in there.
It features a novella by Anderson Prunty which he describes as being "like Scooby Doo, but Scooby and the gang traveling pornographers." Stories by Jordan Krall, Bruce Taylor, Garrett Cook, and Michael Gibbs. Comics by Andrew Goldfarb and Jeremy Kemp. Articles by Mykle Hansen and editor, Jeff Burk. A spotlight on Gina Ranalli. Lots of bizarro book reviews.
Buy it here: bizarrocentral.com/magazine.asp
There's also copies for sale on Amazon.
Chose the cover art for the next issue of Bust. Doing last minutes on the issue.
Have an urge to tweet "Masturbating" five times so it fills the right side of my blog. Holding back because it would be really annoying for people who follow me on twitter.
Living in a neighborhood with lots of young college students for the next couple of months. Sometimes gets noisy at night. Annoying
Offered a room in an awesome apartment outside of Boulder starting in August. Would be living with an elderly man who is an ex-priest/ex-judge, semi-retired Jungian psychologist. We hit it off. The area is beautiful. Even more beautiful than Boulder. Quiet. The community is like a country club. Only problem is it's a little far from school and I'm trying to avoid bringing my car up, which I might do if I take this place and busing is too much of a pain.
Walked to campus a few days ago. Beautiful. Tiniest campus I've ever seen. There's two more of them elsewhere in the city. I may never step foot on either of those.
There's a miniature golf course in Denver called Adventure Golf. I want to play. Tiki head and volcano spits fire. You have to hit your ball through a haunted house.
The first issue of The Magazine of Bizarro Fiction is out. There's a reprint of my "How to Write a Short Story!" in there.
It features a novella by Anderson Prunty which he describes as being "like Scooby Doo, but Scooby and the gang traveling pornographers." Stories by Jordan Krall, Bruce Taylor, Garrett Cook, and Michael Gibbs. Comics by Andrew Goldfarb and Jeremy Kemp. Articles by Mykle Hansen and editor, Jeff Burk. A spotlight on Gina Ranalli. Lots of bizarro book reviews.
Buy it here: bizarrocentral.com/magazine.asp
There's also copies for sale on Amazon.
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.
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