Blake Butler

http://www.gillesdeleuzecommittedsuicideandsowilldrphil.com/
Blake Butler lives in Atlanta. His third book, There Is No Year, is forthcoming April 2011 from Harper Perennial.
http://www.gillesdeleuzecommittedsuicideandsowilldrphil.com/
Blake Butler lives in Atlanta. His third book, There Is No Year, is forthcoming April 2011 from Harper Perennial.
In the spirit of broadening the Giant’s beholden link section (**SELF AGGRANDIZING CONTAINED** since our link taste is so badass), and because we already have established ourselves firmly in the elite anti-email response genre of outfits like Octopus, Action Yes, Pitchfork, Dump Tumumbulum, and etc., here is your opportunity to help us help ourselves so that we quit looking like secret handshakehandjob daddies (which we are).
The links section of the Giant (seen to the right here, and inclusive of only a small smattering of print presses and online journals, etc.) was constructed in about 8 minutes of ‘this is what I look at most’ from one editor’s head. The sole criterion, outside of being places often frequented, was that the aesthetic of the journal, or such places, is in its own way singular and tasty. That is, no ug pieces and no ga-ga. Beyond this short list, there are several many places I go at to do looks, but these are the ones I thought of in those 8 minutes.
Now, readers, I open it up to you: who should we be linking. All suggestions will be taken whole-heartedly, if then either ignored or scoffed at for their self-pointing, or just laziness, or just because the whole intentionally smarmy tone insists that we now ignore any fruits that are borne from it.
Really we like a lot of people, and we just haven’t felt the urge.
But yeah, let’s hear it. What should be linked? Should we include authors or just institutions? What deserves attention? How many people we aren’t already sucking on read this site anyway?
How far up my own ass should my fist fit?
Am I getting older too fast? Is the Sunn o))) discography a bunch of ass-palpitating bullshit or is the sound my refrigerator makes actually a deleted Steve Reich composition?
What happened to all the tits?
Dick and tit submissions are mailable to htmlgiant [at] gmail [dot] com 24/7/364 (fuck you, I sleep on Thanksgiving).
New from Publishing Genius:
Wow. POCKET FINGER represents a new level of ‘wow, fuck’ from Adam Robinson, the Publishing Genius. Insane and beautiful enfolded images from the clearly new and intricately spare imagery of Christy Call, meshed with bro-for-life Ryan’s knack to meld the everyday of fathers, fishing, and tradition with some tonally-wicked phrasing.
Read the shit out of this.
A GUEST TRANSMISSION from the great GIANCARLO DITRAPANO of NEW YORK TYRANT:
Hello, great minds of HTML. Blake has been kind enough to let me put up this post. Thanks, Blake.
Now here’s the post:
The New York Tyrant made a new website and re-opened submissions. We wanted to try something new. The deal is this: We only accept regular mail submissions now, but if you insist on sending electronically, please test the waters with the THREE BEST SENTENCES from your story. If we like it, you will be asked to email the rest of it to us for consideration. If not, back to the drawing board. So the writing/submitting world kind of has a gamble. In all honesty, I wanted to taper off the amount of electronic submissions, but not lose a potentially great story written by a writer that is perhaps too lazy to make it to the post office. Say you have a complete story in hand. Is it fair to reject the story after reading just a couple of sentences? Is it perhaps MORE fair to reject it if ALL you have is three sentences? Could this perhaps benefit the writer, by making them find the best three sentences of their work? Will this make them concentrate more on the sentences they compose, just in case they are planning on submitting to NYTYRANT’s weird new submissions policy? Should I feel bad about the environment because I am accepting only regular mail submissions? Does this perhaps SAVE the trees by rejecting writers electronically and keeping them from printing one out to send in the mail? Am I concentrating too much on “sentences” rather than narrative? Is this stepping away from “short fiction” and stepping towards something…else? Is it possible that many bad sentences can, in concert, make a beautiful story? What, after all, is the big deal with great sentences?
Some examples of what we have received so far. Would you tell the writer to “send more” or ask them to resist? (I have left the authors names off.) (Yes, some aren’t even three sentences. Writers never follow the rules. Bravi, writers!)
Writer A sent this:
It is impossible for you to understand anything else about my disposition unless you can understand just how emotional a thing as simple as drapery can make me; how on days when the sky is filthy with grey clouds I find myself sitting in that very room, anxiously struggling to solve the dilemma of whether I should wait for the light or seek my shelter. I could cry for hours on a day like that, I swear.
Writer B sent this:
Ironically, sunny warm Florida in North America to a cold rainy mountain city in Latin America. There are worse things than rain. Thinking you’ll be alone forever is one of them.
Writer C sent this:
The name of my agency came to me when I saw the movie I Am Legend with a hottie named Stella who kept saying I reminded her of Will Smith, although he’s a whole lot balder, has much bigger ears and a darker complexion. So I had it painted on my office windows facing Cabrini Playground here on Barracks Street in the Lower French Quarter — I Am Adventure. Catchy, right?
Thank you for your thoughts! Sorry for such a long post. Hope it isn’t too boring.
P.S. Two parts: Who is the guy from Rome Review blowing to get an interview with Junot Diaz and pieces from Heti and Means without even having one damn issue out yet?? And B, who do I call to offer the same service, only longer and better and with more slobber?
New from TSky, check and buy!
Teresa K. Miller
Forever No Lo
Chapbook. Poetry
4″ x 4.75″, saddle-sewn, french flaps, 36 pages
November 2008
$10 includes shipping in the US
– click here for more info & images
– click here to order
Vehicular homicide, relationship dissolution by imperceptible degrees, genocide, terror by war, linguistic disorientation—though not equivalent, they interact in Forever No Lo, through the self-consciously philosophical and the mundane swallowing international crisis. The setting is Portugal, but it is also East Oakland, Rwanda, Chicago, Iraq, nowhere discernible. The language fragments multivocally in broken Portuguese, elementary French, and dialectical English. This serial poem asks what comes of global and personal tragedy—what grows, haunts, decays, redeems—in the gut, on the news, or from local communities.
Brandon Shimoda
The Inland Sea
Chapbook. Poetry.
6″ x 8″, perfectbound, black endsheets, 40 pages.
November 2008.
$10 includes shipping in the US
– click here for more info
– click here to order
In remembrance of and in thinking through the grand and generative compromises of birth, migration, dementia, sacrifice and ancestor worship, The Inland Sea is a raveling entreaty for the life of both a family departed and a family spectrally present in both complex breath and body. Spiritually addressed to Midori Shimoda, as well as factually to the inland seascapes of his birth (Hiroshima, Japan, thrice, in 1909, 1910 and 1911) and death (Lake Norman, North Carolina, the United States, once, 1996), The Inland Sea navigates the substance between origination and departure, in an attempt to find a relic of responsible and radiant life outside of benighted time. Composed of doubts, dissolutions, laments and a widening circumference of water and hope, The Inland Sea is a soft, yet urgent, ceremony, through which the ruptures of the past might find celebratory echo, and keep—
ISBN: 9780977901975
Prose Poetry. 5″x7″, 136 pages
Perfectbound, tête-bêche
– Click here for more info
– Order here ($14 includes shipping in the US)
Two full-length collections of prose poems contained in Body Language, one titled Body (on parts of the body) and one titled Primer (on numbers and letters), together form a diptych investigating the body in language and language in the body.
Advance Praise for Body Language
In Mark Cunningham’s asymptotic collection, two discreet texts, Body and Primer, form a provocative, loopic continuum in which prose poems “defining” body parts (The Spleen, The Pituitary Gland, The Pimple, The Thumb) mesh with an abecedarium/cipher concerning topics as various as fate, reality, and phenomenology. With its trope of clue-like instruction and unique, flip-book embodiment, Cunningham‘s book creates a kind of hybrid detective f(r)iction, an intrepid mash-up of high and low cultures in which the reader is as likely to encounter Rilke and Proto-Sinaitic inscription as Lacan, Film Noir, The Three Stooges, cell phones, higher mathematics, binary thought, and Coyote and Road Runner cartoons. Cunningham pitches with surprising clarity the most abstract meditations (“The sperm cell is the first zero. The vagina the second. Wait—before you floated in the placenta (the third), your mother floated and your father floated in theirs, and before them their others and their fathers . . . . You get dizzy, as in that moment in Citizen Kane when Kane pauses after leaving his wife’s bedroom and image after image recedes in mirror reflecting mirror. Another thing about DNA: if space curves, so does time,” for example, from “O as a Beginning”), offering in almost reportorial style a (d)evolutionary mix of anachronistic, equally relentless somatic and figurative explorations of the body (“a paradise of sorts”) and the mind. Northrop Frye called a riddle “essentially a charm in reverse . . . the revolt of the intelligence against the hypnotic power of commanding words.” Cunningham’s work moves in this direction; as Frye would put it, “Poem and object are very quizzically related: there seems to be some riddle behind all riddles which we have not yet guessed.” These poems are not the mere game-playing of an extraordinarily gifted and restless intellect; stalked by pain, fear, guilt, and the burden of awareness,, they can also be tender, betraying a capacity for happiness: “I rarely talk about myself, but I’ll tell you this: one of the best days I’ve had was when I passed a cinema and decided right then to see The Cameraman. Another time, I switched restaurants at the last minute, and met an acquaintance there, and ate with her, and three years later we’re still going out.” As obsessed as they are with the ironies and processes of mind and body, the poet’s concern is ever with the mysteries this human armature holds up: “life itself.”
—Lisa Russ Spaar, author of Satin Cash and Blue Venus, and editor of Acquainted with the Night and All That Mighty Heart: London Poems.
About the Authors
Teresa K. Miller received her MFA from Mills College. Her work has appeared in Tarpaulin Sky, ZYZZYVA, Columbia Poetry Review, MiPOesias, Coconut, DIAGRAM, Shampoo, and others. Originally from Seattle, she currently teaches in Oakland.
Brandon Shimoda was born in California, and has since lived in five countries and nine states, most recently North Carolina and Montana. His writings have made appearances in Colorado Review, Denver Quarterly, Fence, jubilat, Octopus Magazine, Practice: New Writing + Art, TYPO, Verse and elsewhere, as well as in two recent book projects, Lake M (Corollary Press) and The Alps (Flim Forum Press). He currently lives in the state of Washington, where he takes part in the lives of both Slope magazine and Wave Books, among other takings, partings and taking-aparts.
Mark Cunningham lives in central Missouri. He is the author of 80 Beetles (Otoliths, 2008) and two chapbooks from Right Hand Pointing, Second Story and the forthcoming nightlightnight.
I know lots of people only submit to journals that accept online submissions, which to me is kind of lazy, but who am I to point? Anyway, it can be hard sometimes to find journals that accept electronic submissions, esp. print ones. Even the Duotrope search feature isn’t that useful to me because they have so much junk in the way, it becomes a matter of sifting, and usually I give up.
Anyway, I just figured out that if you google ‘submission manager’, you get a handy list of journals that use that factory-standard and really nice login/upload machine. Doing so, I found a bunch of places I didn’t realize had upgraded.
Doing this leaves out the ones that use other electronic submission forms, such as email and etc., but if you’re looking for ‘big name’ journals and some other randoms, that google listing is pretty handy.
Including: Drunken Boat, Columbia, Ploughshares, AGNI, Pank, American Short Fiction, West Branch, Third Coast, Many Mountains Moving, Poetry, Kenyon Review, Opium, One Story, Boston Review, Indiana Review, Baltimore Review, Blue Earth Review, yadda yadda yadda.
You’re welcome. Lazyass.
from Harpur Palate:
Summer 2008 – Themed Issue
Starting in January we will be seeking submissions of poetry, fiction, & creative non-fiction for our next themed issue, The Long and Short of It, featuring short prose (1000 words or less) and long poems (3 pages or longer). Please send 1-3 stories or 1 poem, and mark your submission “themed issue.” We’re trying to shake up the genres a little bit and publish some pieces a “normal” journal might not accept, so send us what you got and please tell your friends. The issue is scheduled for release in Summer 2009.
Give em what they want. Get out the real real. Fecal. Anal. Rough.
* Cover of Tyrant on bearotic.com: Tyrant wins.
* The Fireman and the Caper by Justin Dobbs: New strong strange short fiction live at zzzfish
* Quicksilver seeks submission: new online journal forthcoming from U of T at El Paso
New York Tyrant launched their new website this week. It is a very tasteful flash affair jam packed with insane shit and new info, including the aforementioned new issue with the greatest cover ever, which is as such:
Yes, that is Chris March from Project Runway in a bear suit. Fuck yeah.
The line up on the new issue is kind of a feat in and of itself I think: Alex Balk, Eugene Marten, Jason Schwartz, Eva Talmadge, Gordon Lish, Atticus Lish, Sam Michel, Brad Gayman, John Haskell, Cooper Renner, Michael Scott Ryan, Oscar Williams, Ryan Call, Blake Butler, Julian Zadorozny, Ronald Hobbs, M. Thomas Gammarino, Conor Madigan, R.E. Bowse, Justin Taylor, Julian Kudritzki, Pasquino, Greg Mulcahy, M Sarki, S.G. Miller, Joshua Furst, David Nutt, Sarah Manguso, Patrick Leonard, Jeffrey Lewis, Thomas a Kempis, Jody Barton.
You can now order the issue from the site, which I suggest you do soon, as the last two have sold out before they could really even make it on the web.
Also unveiled in the site is the forthcoming Tyrant Press, which will feature titles from Eugene Marten, Michael Kimball, and Brian Evenson. Already a legend and they haven’t published the first book yet.
In addition to all this, submissions have reopened, so all of ya’ll who submit, should get on it. And buy. Buy the issues, esp. if you never have. Don’t be the guy sending blindly to anyone who will read your electronically.
Everyone writing online now knows the presence of Elimae, currently under the magisterial editorialship of Cooper Renner.
Before Cooper there was the founding editor, Deron Bauman, who helmed the site from its launch in 1996 up to when he handed the reins over in 2004.
If you haven’t yet spent some time with Bauman’s archives, now is the time. Pretty much any even important language-driven writer considered massive now is lurking around, with full length stories and texts to be read for free.
Among them: Eugene Marten, Matthew Derby, Brian Evenson, Norman Lock, Brandon Hobson, Michael Ives, Michael Kimball, Stacey Levine, Eugene Lim, Gary Lutz, Peter Markus, David Ohle, Dawn Raffel, Shya Scanlon, Jane Unrue, Diane Williams, Derek White, etc. etc. etc. There is much greatness to be read.
It’s almost like a full free web edition of the Quarterly.
There are also essays on minimalism, Cormac McCarthy, there are in depth reviews of important books.
If there is any model for what an online magazine should strive for in terms of quality, this is it I think.
Silliman's eyes in Rauan's brain
In support of his excellent book of violent prose poems, Holy Land, Rauan Klassnik has been blogging from the Holy Land. There are lots of violent, strange drawings, weird rants, and recently, a series of dreams he’s had about Ron Silliman. They are quite fun.
Here’s the beginning of the first one:
I’m sitting on a rock with God. Below us in a field of cactus a naked Ron Silliman is scurrying after a rabbit.
Again and again it looks like Ron’s about to nab it but he either mistimes his final leap or the rabbit’s too slick and he ends up in cactus. Usually face-first.
But, a couple of times, tumbling over, it’s ass-first. All credit to Ron, though, he’s diligently and painstakingly removing all the needles (sometimes with the help of a mirror he’s produced from who knows where.)
I look over at God. He’s blank-faced.
Check out some more on the blog, and buy Rauan’s book. It is a quick and mind fucking read.