It’s not the best survey in the world, science-wise, but I made one and you can take it pretty fast I bet, anonymously, and it would help me understand things. Thanks.
TONIGHT! The AmperLanterProof Last Chance Literary Blast For Endtimes
If you’re in Chicago tonight and looking for something to do, there’s this:
America: The Rippin and the Tearin
Your book competes with this.
10 Requests for Better Silence
1. Writing something does not guarantee you the right to have someone look at it, acknowledge it, read it, enjoy it, consider it for publication, have it for breakfast.
2. Writing could arguably be considered art and/or entertainment. If it does not act upon a body as art does (however that is, it often causes at least some sensation) and/or entertain, probably no one is going to give a shit. Birthday parties are for toddlers.
3. Most people aren’t going to give a shit even if it does do one or both of those things, and many people will never find it or give it time even if it does do one or both of those things, and though there are things you can do to improve your chances, please refer to list item #1.
4. Complaining about certain people not giving you “fair consideration” is never going to make anybody want to like you more, particularly when those people are publishers or reviewers or whatever, who get more than their fair share of these inputs (and they like it that way, but it’s still a lot).
5. Art is not democracy. People like what they like, or they find another reason to like it. If you bake me a beautiful cake, and I’m really not hungry, I’m not going to eat your cake, even if I personally can’t hardly pass on most cake even if I’m full as a motherfucker. Maybe your cake smells moldy, or is from a gas station.
6. Because anyone can choose what goes in and out of them, even when they are in a position where part of their “job” is to have things going in and out of them, no one has to make you feel OK with regards to the accuracy, efficiency, fairness, and rules about which they check you out. If I own a magazine, and I want people who want to be in my magazine to eat 14 pounds of lard and provide video proof before I’ll check out their art, I have every right to do that. It’s my fucking magazine! I started that motherfucker so I could do what I wanted to with it! If you don’t want to eat lard stay away from my magazine! There are like 1400 other magazines and many of them are so very democratic.
7. Stop worrying. The stakes are whatever you want them to be, and it doesn’t have to do with exposition. The longer it takes, the better for you. What if Michael Jordan had gotten picked up by the Bulls when he was 15? He would not be Michael Jordan.
8. No one got into this because they thought they were going to make sex and money. They aren’t trying to destroy you, even if they maybe are still in a la-la land of their own. THIS WHOLE THING IS LA LA LAND.
9. Don’t stop worrying. Worry more, but make it yours. Talk to yourself more, into your hands and in the bed and shower. Get angry and tell no one. This makes you into a person.
10. The more times you make the cake that no one eats or only eats a little the better you get at making another.
New Madvillain single. (High on Fire and Killa Mike there, too.) New Boduf Songs single and album forthcoming. (Interview with Boduf Songs on HTML Giant in the next few weeks.) Monsters and torture devices on Isaiah Toothtaker’s TUMBLR. (Amazing Edan/Percee P song posted there.)
Musical Interlude: Alasdair Roberts & the Grateful Dead
There are very few things in music right now that excite me more than the words “new Alasdair Roberts record.” I became something of a Roberts evangelist last year when his album Spoils came out, and since then I’ve been availing myself of his back catalog, which includes several wonderful albums of traditional ballads and songs. His new record, Too Long in This Condition, is another collection of traditionals, and it is a delight. Sonically, it feels closer in spirit to Spoils–which was a (relatively) boisterous album of Roberts originals–than to his earlier traditionals records, in particular The Crook of My Arm, which remains (by a small margin) my favorite thing Roberts has put out to date. But there’s plenty to love about Too Long in This Condition. Highlights include marvelous takes on “The Two Sisters”, “Barbara Allen” and “The Daemon Lover”, the ecstatic jaw-harp-featuring “Kilmahog Saturday Afternoon,” and “The Golden Vanity,” this last being the record’s standout track. Also look out for “Little Sir Hugh,” which as near as I can tell is a song about Jewish blood libel–and I don’t mean “about” in the sense of “discussing” or “critiquing,” but rather in the sense of “features a Jew luring a child into her house and then murdering him for his precious blood.” Ahh, history!
Suggested Pairings: Guinness and WCWPCCS
Three disc golf discs, a fillet knife, a bill for salt, and an eggshell book arrived at my door. On the cover a blue goat. I was skeptical/green-eyed, but also glimmed a glow—the book obviously cared for/handmade and who here doesn’t respect a literary artifact? The book is titled The Feeling is Mutual. Written by The Washtenaw County Women’s Poetry Collective & Casserole Society (Amy Berkowitz, Beth Divis, Emma Gorenberg, Elisa McCool & Jessica Young). What in the blar is the WCWPCCS? And where is my casserole?
A true sense of collaboration. A gathering and letting go. None of the poems or recipes has bylines. Possibly penned by any of the WCWPCCS or by all or by their mysterious “appearances by” friends or by the goat tied to the persimmon tree down by the bass pond. (The authors say themselves: “We no longer recognize our own words.”)
The ingredients of this poetic porringer?
(ALMOST) SONNETS, SPOOKLES, QUESTIONS & ANSWERS, RETELLINGS, CASSEROLES
There is a patented capsule of nitrogen inside my bottle of Guinness. It looks like a toy submarine (the type you could once find in cereal boxes and fill with baking soda). The capsule clatters around inside the bottle, but also releases nitrogen that agitates the previously dissolved CO2 and this makes for a clean, creamy, immortal pour and a head like the caps of waves washing upon the shore of Innisfree. That’s a lot of wonk-science (like $13 million worth) for a fucking beer, but then again this is Guinness.
This is a fine book. I mean the real deal. Let’s begin with the (almost) sonnets.
July 9th, 2010 / 10:44 am
First you met the man and learned a little about the book. Now, Sex Dungeon for Sale has been made into a short film.
Two Things to Make It Rain
It’s warm out.
1. Commenter kirby pointed to this essay by Jim Rossignol about video games and architecture.
2. Bookstore Memory: I went to this bookstore in Appleton, Wisconsin years ago, and noticed a bunch of Jon Spencer Blues Explosion reviews in frames on the walls. A place of honor was reserved for one from Rolling Stone that was on the same page as a Bob Dylan review. I talked to the owner, and found out that she was the mother of JSBX guitarist Judah Bauer. She told me he had been really excited to see his band reviewed so close to Dylan because, even if he wouldn’t admit it to his punk rock/noise rock friends, Dylan was his favorite artist. “All the tapes in his room were labeled Honeymoon Killers and stuff, but they were all actually Dylan records.” She told me that story while I waited for my change—I was buying, I think, Dr. Sax by Jack Kerouac—and I’m 67% certain she was hoping if she dazzled me with rock gossip, I would forget she owed me for the $20 I had given her.
Got a bookstore memory? Comment.
via Ellen Kennedy’s tumblr, which is rarely updated but always worth checking up on. Did she take these pictures herself? Here’s hoping. I especially like this one, which looks like something tiny that floats near the bottom of the sea: