David Fishkind

David Fishkind was born in Worcester, MA in 1990. In 2008 he spent ten days in Nova Scotia. He works in New York University's Division of Libraries and lives in Brooklyn.

The Bus by Paul Kirchner

The Bus ran monthly in Heavy Metal from 1978 to 1985.

Imgur has hosted as a bunch of strips. Below are two.

the bus


The Bus rules.

Random / 6 Comments
October 15th, 2013 / 10:24 pm

John Cheever fiction published in The New Yorker

“Brooklyn Rooming House” - May 25, 1935 (pp. 93-96)
“Buffalo” - June 22, 1935 (pp. 66-68)
“Play A March” - June 20, 1936 (pp. 20-21)
“A Picture for the Home” - Nov. 28, 1936 (pp. 80-83)
“In the Beginning” - Nov. 6, 1937 (pp. 77-80)
“Treat” - Jan. 21, 1939 (pp. 50-51)
“The Happiest Days” - Nov. 4, 1939 (pp. 15-16)
“It’s Hot in Egypt” - Jan. 6, 1940 (pp. 20-21)
“North of Portland” - Feb. 24, 1940 (pp. 20-21)
“Survivor” - Mar. 9, 1940 (pp. 54-56)
“Washington Boarding House” - Mar. 23, 1940 (pp. 23-24)
“Riding Stable” - Apr. 27, 1940 (pp. 20-21)
“Happy Birthday, Enid” - July 13, 1940 (pp. 15-16)
“Tomorrow Is a Beautiful Day” - Aug. 3, 1940 (pp. 15-16)
“Summer Theatre” - Aug. 24, 1940 (pp. 45-48)
“The New World” - Nov. 9, 1940 (pp. 17-19)
“Forever Hold Your Peace” - Nov. 23, 1940 (pp. 16-18)
“When Grandmother Goes” - Dec. 14, 1940 (pp. 68-75)
“Hello, Dear” - Feb. 15, 1941 (pp. 20-21)
“The Law of the Jungle” - Mar. 22, 1941 (pp. 16-18)
“There They Go” - July 19, 1941 (pp. 17-18)
“Run, Sheep, Run” - Aug. 2, 1941 (pp. 50-52)
“Publick House” - Aug. 16, 1941 (pp. 45-49)
“These Tragic Years” - Sept. 27, 1941 (pp. 15-17)
“In the Eyes of God” - Oct. 11, 1941 (pp. 20-22)
“The Pleasures of Solitude” - Jan. 24, 1942 (pp. 19-21)
“A Place of Great Historical Interest” - Feb. 21, 1942 (pp. 17-19)
“The Shape of a Night” - Apr. 18, 1942 (pp. 14-16)
“Goodbye, Broadway—Hello, Hello” - June 6, 1942 (pp. 19-20)
“Problem No. 4″ - Oct. 17, 1942 (pp. 23-24)
“The Man Who Was Very Homesick for New York” - Nov. 21, 1942 (pp. 19-22)
“Sergeant Limeburner” - Mar. 13, 1943 (pp. 19-25)
“They Shall Inherit the Earth” - Apr. 10, 1943 (pp. 17-18)
“A Tale of Old Pennsylvania” - May 29, 1943 (pp. 20-23)
“The Invisible Ship” - Aug. 7, 1943 (pp. 17-21)
“My Friends and Neighbors All, Farewell” - Oct. 2, 1943 (pp. 23-26)
“Dear Lord, We Thank Thee for Thy Bounty” - Nov. 27, 1943 (pp. 30-31)
“Somebody Has to Die” - June 24, 1944 (pp. 27-28)
“The Single Purpose of Leon Burrows” - Oct. 7, 1944 (pp. 18-22)
“The Mouth of the Turtle” - Nov. 11, 1944 (pp. 27-28)
“Town House” - Apr. 21, 1945 (pp. 23-26)
“Manila” - July 28, 1945 (pp. 20-23)
“Town House—II” - Aug. 11, 1945 (pp. 20-25)
“Town House—III” - Nov. 10, 1945 (pp. 27-32)
“Town House—IV” - Jan. 5, 1946 (pp. 23-28)
“Town House—V” - Mar. 16, 1946 (pp. 26-30)
“Town House—VI” - May 4, 1946 (pp. 22-27)
“The Sutton Place Story” - June 29, 1946 (pp. 19-26)
“Love in the Islands” - Dec. 7, 1946 (pp. 42-44)
“The Beautiful Mountains” - Feb. 8, 1947 (pp. 26-30)
“The Enormous Radio” - May 17, 1947 (pp. 28-33)
“The Common Day” - Aug. 2, 1947 (pp. 19-24)
“Roseheath” - Aug. 16, 1947 (pp. 29-31)
“Torch Song” - Oct. 4, 1947 (pp. 31-39)
“O City of Broken Dreams” - Jan. 24, 1948 (pp. 22-31)
“Keep the Ball Rolling” - May 29, 1948 (pp. 21-26)
“The Summer Farmer” - Aug. 7, 1948 (pp. 18-22)
“The Hartleys” - Jan. 22, 1949 (pp. 26-29)
“The Temptations of Emma Boynton” - Nov. 26, 1949 (pp. 29-31)
“Christmas Is a Sad Season for the Poor” - Dec. 24, 1949 (pp. 19-22)
“The Season of Divorce” - Mar. 4, 1950 (pp. 22-27)
“The Pot of Gold” - Oct. 14, 1950 (pp. 30-38)
“The People You Meet” - Dec. 2, 1950 (pp. 44-49)
“Clancy in the Tower of Babel” - Mar. 24, 1951 (pp. 24-28)
“Goodbye, My Brother” - Aug. 25, 1951 (pp. 22-31)
“The Superintendent” - Mar. 29, 1952 (pp. 28-34)
“The Chaste Clarissa” - June 14, 1952 (pp. 29-33)
“The Cure” - July 5, 1952 (pp. 18-22)
“The Children” - Sept. 6, 1952 (pp. 34-45)
“O Youth and Beauty!” - Aug. 22, 1953 (pp. 20-25)
“The National Pastime” - Sept. 26, 1953 (pp. 29-35)
“The Sorrows of Gin” - Dec. 12, 1953 (pp. 42-48)
“The Five-Forty-Eight” - April 10, 1954 (pp. 28-34)
“Independence Day at St. Botolph’s” - July 3, 1954 (pp. 18-23)
“The Day the Pig Fell into the Well” - Oct. 23, 1954 (pp. 32-40)
“The Country Husband” - Nov. 20, 1954 (pp. 38-48)
“Just Tell Me Who It Was” - Apr. 16, 1955 (pp. 38-46)
“Just One More Time” - Oct. 8, 1955 (pp. 40-42)
“The Bus to St. James’s” - Jan. 14, 1956 (pp. 24-31)
“The Journal of an Old Gent” - Feb. 18, 1956 (pp. 32-59)
“The Housebreaker of Shady Hill” - Apr. 14, 1956 (pp. 42-71)
“Miss Wapshot” - Sept. 22, 1956 (pp. 40-43)
“Clear Haven” - Dec. 1, 1956 (pp. 50-111)
“The Trouble of Marcy Flint” - Nov. 9, 1957 (pp. 40-46)
“The Bella Lingua” - Mar. 1, 1958 (pp. 34-55)
“Paola” - July 26, 1958 (pp. 22-29)
“The Wrysons” - Sept. 13, 1958 (pp. 38-41)
“The Duchess” - Dec. 13, 1958 (pp. 42-48)
“The Scarlet Moving Van” - Mar. 21, 1959 (pp. 44-50)
“The Events of That Easter” - May 16, 1959 (pp. 40-48)
“The Golden Age” - Sept. 26, 1959 (pp. 46-50)
“The Lowboy” - Oct. 10, 1959 (pp. 38-42)
“The Music Teacher” - Nov. 21, 1959 (pp. 50-56)
“A Woman Without a Country” - Dec. 12, 1959 (pp. 48-50)
“Clementina” - May 7, 1960 (pp. 40-48)
“Some People, Places, and Things That Will Not Appear in My Novel” - Nov. 12, 1960 (pp. 54-58)
“The Chimera” - July 1, 1961 (pp. 30-36)
“Seaside Houses” - July 29, 1961 (pp. 19-23)
“The Angel of the Bridge” - Oct. 21, 1961 (pp. 49-52)
“The Brigadier and the Golf Widow” - Nov. 11, 1961 (pp. 53-60)
“The Traveller” - Dec. 9, 1961 (pp. 50-58)
“Christmas Eve in St. Botolph’s” - Dec. 23, 1961 (pp. 26-31)
“A Vision of the World” - Sept. 29, 1962 (pp. 42-46)
“Reunion” - Oct. 27, 1962 (p. 45)
“The Embarkment for Cythera” - Nov. 3, 1962 (pp. 59-106)
 “Metamorphoses” - Mar. 2, 1963 (pp. 32-39)
“The International Wilderness” - Apr. 6, 1963 (pp. 43-47)
“Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin” - Apr. 27, 1963 (pp. 38-41)
“An Educated American Woman” - Nov. 2, 1963 (pp. 46-54)
“The Habit” - Mar. 7, 1964 (pp. 45-47)
“Montraldo” - June 6, 1964 (pp. 37-39)
“Marito in Città” - July 4, 1964 (pp. 26-31)
“The Swimmer” - July 18, 1964 (pp. 28-34)
“The Ocean” - Aug. 1, 1964 (pp. 30-40)
“Another Story” - Feb. 25, 1967 (pp. 42-48)
“Bullet Park” - Nov. 25, 1967 (pp. 56-59)
“Percy” - Sept. 21, 1968 (pp. 45-50)
“The Folding-Chair Set” - Oct. 13, 1975 (pp. 36-38)
“The Night Mummy Got the Wrong Mink Coat” - Apr. 21, 1980 (p. 35)
“The Island” - Apr. 27, 1981 (p. 41)
Massive People / 26 Comments
October 8th, 2013 / 2:03 pm

NOW CLOSED: Exclusive Preview of a Short Film – Baseball

Adam Humphreys and Zachary German have produced a short film called Baseball, which was  available to stream right here on HTMLGiant for 3 hours Aug. 7, 2013.

Zachary German, who co-wrote the film, stars as a cheating lover who must recall the opening of The Great Gatsby from memory to placate his suspicious girlfriend.

The link below is now dead, contact Adam Humphreys ( for more information.

-notes on Baseball by Erik Baker

Baseball is America’s pastime. Everybody loves baseball. This film has nothing to do with Baseball. They’re playing with you.

Two apartments and one hotel room. A young couple in different time zones. A young guy (Brad) drinking a bottle of Fiji water. A phone call comes through. It is from his girlfriend. A brief exchange establishes they live together. He’s lying to her. She asks him if she left a book on the side table, “The Great Gatsby,” which results in a genuine and convincing look of concern on the part of Brad. It goes from there.

Everything you see and hear in this film is important. The background is important. A cat is important. Brad’s pompousness, in their interaction with another couple, when he quotes from The Great Gatsby in flashback, is important. In very few scenes, the film manages to flesh out the characters pretty well. These are real, believable people in a somewhat wrenching but not unfunny scenario.

I feel a similar cosmic humor in Humphreys’ other two films. And a similar uncanny and profound feeling of disconnection as in German’s earlier literary efforts. Little details, like the cat, the cat’s water, and the couple’s conversations lead inexorably to a muted emotional breakdown. The opening passage of The Great Gatsby, quoted by Brad three times in the film, proves meaningful on multiple levels.

The first time through, it’s funny. The second time it’s not so much. Pain is a big part of comedy. Baseball is a tight little film that will reward multiple viewings.

Baseball_poster copy2

Author News & Film / 47 Comments
August 7th, 2013 / 1:38 pm

Three Quotes from Literature about Saint Simeon Stylites


Simeon Stylites, who spent thirty-six year on top of a sixty-foot pillar in the Syrian desert. For most of that time his body a mass of maggot-infested sores.
The maggots no more than eating what God had intended for them, he said.

- David Markson, Reader’s Block

- – -

And her eagerness to learn the preparations he had set himself to teach her was sometimes pathetically touching, and sometimes it frightened him: touching, delicately absurd for there was no mockery in her when, for instance, she affirmed the dogma of the Assumption of the Virgin with that of Little Eva in Uncle Tom’s Cabin, as the only historical parallel she knew; frightening, when she brought from nowhere the image of Saint Simeon Stylites standing a year on one foot and addressing the worms which an assistant replaced in his putrefying flesh, —Eat what God has given you . . .

- William Gaddis, The Recognitions

- – -

These considerations, which occur to me frequently, prompt an admiration in me for a kind of person that by nature I abhor. I mean the mystics and ascetics—the recluses of all Tibets, the Simeon Stylites of all columns. These men, albeit by absurd means, do indeed try to escape the animal law. These men, although they act madly, do indeed reject the law of life by which others wallow in the sun and for death without thinking about it. They really seek, even if on top of a column; they yearn, even if in an unlit cell; they long for what they don’t know, even if in the suffering and martyrdom they’re condemned to.

- Fernando Pessoa,  The Book of Disquiet
- – -
Read more here and here
Excerpts / 6 Comments
July 1st, 2013 / 8:17 pm

Kanye West Yeezus Listening Party

Photo on 6-18-13 at 8.35 PM

Music by Kanye West. Commentary by Lakshmi Singh, Leonard Lopate. Beer by Pabst Brewing Company.

Kanye West – Yeezus….. |~/Call\~/Your\~/Parents\~|

Music / 11 Comments
June 18th, 2013 / 8:37 pm

Why Frances Ha Is a Cowardly Movie


Instead of attending an opening for a collective of internet/new media artists in Red Hook, probably cutting edge, funny, with free alcohol—perhaps some level of thought-provoking, also maybe I would’ve known some people there—I decided to go see Francis Ha. Something said it was like Baumbach meets Girls, and since Lena Dunham and the aforementioned filmmaker (whose notoriety is mainly based on a 2005 family drama and his friendship with the more marketable and visually stylistic Wes Anderson) both, in the shallow arc of their careers, mark an acme of New York indie-cum-commercial, I figured I’d get more pleasure and cultural experience out of going to the movies. I’ve always been attracted to the medium’s commercial roots: the amount of money it takes for a 90-minute feature to be made: the amount of money it costs to finance advertising: the amount it costs to see it once in theaters. Counteracted against the mutable possibilities for distribution and audience now made possible by the internet. It’s a weird time to consider one’s self an artist making movies, probably. Weirder than posting photos of a MacBook in a bathtub to a Tumblr.

Even weirder to film your movie in black and white. A bold choice, it actually succeeds, raw and captivating rather than kitschy and meaningless. Baumbach creates a Manhattan-like air to parts of the city heretofore unexplored in traditional analogue (i.e., Brooklyn). Its passé, but really more pastiche, approach to the cinematography feels enhanced by the literal quality of the film print. I don’t really know how that works, but certain moments feel faster, like World War II footage or old home movies. Frances (Greta Gerwig) runs down the crosswalks of lower Manhattan to “Modern Love” dancing and sort of fluttering. It’s not dramatic; it’s comic and natural and sort of frantic.

And that’s how the majority of the film is. People in their mid-20s banter and talk around ideas (and the dialogue is good, not parodic, not pandering or striving to capture some extant zenith of hipster inflection). Everyone wants to be an artist, but nobody really cares or knows how. Frances, an aspiring modern dancer and graduate of Vassar, traverses six shared, and unsuitable, residences, not including a 48-hour stint at a friend of an acquaintance’s apartment in Paris, over the course of maybe eighteen months. She fails at relationships, she sulks and hopes and talks like an intelligent person who doesn’t care about being intelligent. Someone at a dinner party says something like, “Sophie—she’s really smart,” to which Frances replies something like, “Well, yeah, we’re all smart.” She claims her friend doesn’t read enough, but we only see the protagonist flipping through the center of some thick book, ostensibly Proust, on one of her countless wasted days.

Frances is wildly unmotivated and expects a natural progression of success in the art world from minimal, obligatory efforts. She has basal talent, illusory goals and lots of beer. And she gets drunk a lot, fractiously speaking down paths of unrelatable and undetectable revelation amongst people either too mature for her company or just as immature and wanton, but rich. Frances isn’t rich. By economic and social terms, she is absolutely poor, but addressing the harrowing nature and implications of this situation becomes increasingly difficult, as she admits, when confronted by her vague love interest and roommate, that she cannot be poor, essentially because she is educated, art-minded and white. The story really does seem beautiful. It is more honest and intense than Girls, more willing to quietly face the complications of inheriting a broken economy, a feeling and system of entitlement, privilege and unwarranted desire. Nothing could really be more current, topical, desperately vital to address.

Oh god, I’m so sad. Frances Ha comes so close.


Film / 21 Comments
May 25th, 2013 / 12:42 pm

Quilts of America

Yesterday I went to the Brooklyn Museum to see the exhibition “Workt by Hand”: Hidden Labor and Historical Quilts.

Quilts are awesome.

photo 1

Some are scary, like this one.

photo 1

This one too. It’s also abstract/minimalist.

photo 2

Some are accidentally abstract.

This one has a horse on it

This one has a horse on it


Vicarious MFA / 8 Comments
April 22nd, 2013 / 11:01 pm


Craft Notes / 3 Comments
April 19th, 2013 / 5:49 pm

The Density at the Center of Everything: A Conversation with Erik Stinson

Erik Stinson is a writer of short fiction and poetry, an essayist, web artist and associate copywriter. I first met him outside a bar in Williamsburg in summer 2010. We skated that night and, later, both, separately, with Miles Ross. I asked him some questions about his life and forthcoming collection of stories, Tropic Midtown, which, like all of his books, he self-published and distributes.

HTMLGiant: You’re sitting at a desk, am I right?

Erik Stinson: Yeah.

HG: How’s the view from your desk right now?


ES: I can see out the window behind me, to a courtyard on the 5th floor, some light from 23rd street via a low building. Air rights etc.

HG: Okay, so you wrote a book called Tropic Midtown. It’s stories. What made you want to write these stories?

ES: I wanted to make certain memories, and unmake others. I guess I wanted to destroy some and shape others.


Author Spotlight / No Comments
April 9th, 2013 / 10:29 am

Remembering AWP 2013 (Through Embedded Photos)

I took the Lucky Star bus to Boston with Andrew. A week or so earlier the Fung Wah bus, the bus I’d taken between Boston and New York for five years, had terminated operation by demand of federal government? (Did I read that wrong?) After a long, and delayed, transport, we made it to my parents’ house in Westborough, where we awoke the following morning to what would become 18 inches of snow.


We helped my parents shovel (my father worked the snowblower).

photo (1)

I’d had no intention of paying the registration fee, but things were kind of lax anyways? This is what the inside of the conference looked like.

photo (2)


Events / 7 Comments
March 13th, 2013 / 4:04 pm

I Like __ A Lot & Reviews

A lot of little excerpts from and a little critical review of Tomaž Šalamun’s excellent On the Tracks of Wild Game

on_the_tracks_of_wild_game-promo_2On the Tracks of Wild Game
Tomaž Šalamun (Translated by Sonja Kravanja)
Ugly Duckling Presse, 1979/2012
108 pages / $14.00 buy from Ugly Duckling








It’s fairly disarming to think of the poetry in Tomaž Šalamun’s On the Tracks of Wild Game as over thirty years old. The poet’s approach to and manipulation of language is frequently unexpected, exciting. Fresh. He sets the bar, here, not only as we look back retrospectively on what the poetry world was approaching at the end of the twentieth century, but also as we ourselves presently work to create and maintain unique, innovative voices. I can imagine this book would generate about as much enthusiasm and dialogue, if published tomorrow, as it has as a translation. The work marks a pivotal appreciation for the Slovenian writer, but more importantly to literature outside the Western canon in general.

The brevity of the majority of the poems is particularly exciting. Šalamun strikes hard with the saying as much with as little as one is able. To me, the untitled poems, fleeting yet devastatingly moving in their images and volatile turns of language, reminded me of Bashō and other Japanese poetry I’ve read translated by Kenneth Rexroth.

The simplicity drives the purpose behind the works. Šalamun is able to transform the direction and force of these moments usually in one or two words. Notably it is the function of the ending, which takes a good poem and makes it an awesome poem. “When will I be captured / by the breadth of this honey?” (8) and “where did your women hide / as you fled to this tree?” (9) are early examples of how powerful a tiny image, a markedly heretofore unestablished or dramatically appearing image is responsible for the weight and reaction of the poem. Ending, here, on a question, is complex: it operates as a turn from writer to speaker to reader, an introspection on the speaker’s part, and an endowment of agency and participation from the literary context to the reader.


1 Comment
February 13th, 2013 / 2:41 pm

Behind the Scenes & Reviews

Gaddis and J R: Life With, By and Before


William Gaddis
Alfred A. Knopf, 1975
726 pages / $15.16 buy from Dalkey Archive or Amazon






By July I’d completed my yearlong ramble through DeLillo’s oeuvre. It was not one of the hottest summers I remember. I had a room in Crown Heights with a window that faced out to an alley, across which lived a Barbadian family, whom I was awoken by most mornings before biking the six miles, across Brooklyn, over the Manhattan Bridge, through Chinatown, to the parking lot behind the business school next to the library, where I rode the elevator to the tenth floor and worked for eight hours Monday to Friday. I had little idea or direction of what to do next.

I read Wittgenstein’s Mistress in about two sittings, during which I came to vaguely understand the significance of the name William Gaddis. All I knew when I dropped down to the eighth floor one afternoon to pick up the massive copy of The Recognitions was that it included a character who wore a clock as a necklace. The image appeared throughout Markson’s insane novel and recalled Flavor Flav, the refurbished and culturally derided figure of the preceding decade, which seemed enough for me.

It took me three attempts to get through the first ten pages. I’d decided with a friend that we would tackle it simultaneously, but he gave up a quarter way through the first chapter. He explained that he didn’t have any interest in dedicating his respite to a man baptized by Jonathan Franzen as “Mr. Difficult.” As a matter of contention or cultural superiority, or, more likely, personal superiority, I committed to reading the novel to completion and full understanding.

I did so, along the way reveling in what I referred to as the most conscious and hilarious diatribe on art ever penned. I was indoctrinated; by what I read, I found myself deeply shaken and moved.

A month passed. I signed a lease on an apartment with my girlfriend in a neighborhood that used to be a part of Flatbush but is now called Prospect-Lefferts Gardens and enrolled in my penultimate semester of college. I reread Hamlet and Heart of Darkness and The Waste Land. I read for the first time A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man and Ulysses and “Ulysses” and “Prufrock” and Castle Rackrent. I had few conversations about Gaddis. I went out constantly for a few weeks and stopped. There was the hurricane and I walked across the Manhattan Bridge through a city without electricity to Madison Square Garden. I read Ben Gocker’s absurdly funny Content publication The Pisces on a bus from Philadelphia on three hours of sleep. I felt tired of writing. The insanity of the world seemed more sane. I was bored, watched hours of television. I still do. I’m still bored. And I thought, I think about The Recognitions regularly as this masterpiece of social and artistic criticism, the most effort ever poured into something’s message, which stands to say: It’s not worth it.


January 16th, 2013 / 1:11 pm

Is content of what writer writes as important as how writer writes it?

Is image of who writer is as important as notion of what writer writes?


The moon is bright in this part of Massachusetts.

There is pie downstairs but nobody is eating it.

I was very drunk at one point. Now I don’t know.

People kept talking about money.

I can’t tell how much conversation about things I incited or what I might have said.

People kept talking about politics.

Everything seems fat and watery. I was in my dad’s shed in the backyard.

The Lions really fucked up, but it will have an asterisk if you think about it.

There’s always more to drink in the garage.

I walked to the high school and kicked four field goals. Some coaches came out of the locker room and looked at me. I looked at them and missed badly.

In the bed in my childhood room this morning I read the “Nausicaa” chapter.

I can’t tell if anyone fell asleep or got sick.

I downloaded five CDs of guitar music.

This isn’t what I planned to do while I was sitting on the toilet a few minutes ago.

Some people were walking around the track then drove home.

The pavement looks white from over here.

I remember I thought this morning I smelled.

Craft Notes / 10 Comments
November 22nd, 2012 / 9:41 pm

Shitty Youth has been released

Last night Adam Humphreys released Shitty Youth, a 36 minute film following Zachary German, who most of you are likely familiar with, on Vimeo through the film’s Facebook page. The film follows Zachary for two years following the release of his first novel Eat When You Feel Sad and features interviews with Tao Lin, Brandon Gorrell, Steve Roggenbuck and myself.

Now we can all die.

Author Spotlight & Film / 6 Comments
November 5th, 2012 / 9:39 am

Kendrick Lamar good kid, m.A.A.d city Listening Party

Music by Kendrick Lamar. Commentary by David Fishkind, Adam Humphreys. Beer by Coors Brewing Company.

Kendrick Lamar – good kid, m.A.A.d city – <<Find Yourself>>

Music / 5 Comments
October 23rd, 2012 / 11:14 pm

How Not to Think: A Few Words

A year ago I was in Germany, alone and growing a beard—the only beard I’d ever had or since—for questionable and seemingly unironic reasons. I felt some prejudice, especially at the doors of clubs, of which I saw several facades but never an interior. I experienced some new forms of illness, peed on myself in a cab and bought an €11 plane ticket to Norway. I felt lost and rarely thought of death, and now my life has leveled out a bit. I live with my girlfriend and signed my first official lease on part of the second floor of a two-story house. I cook and drink American beers, plan my weeks around the presidential debates. Compulsive paranoia regarding the suspect preparation of cappuccinos has been replaced with making sure my clothes are off the couch and bills are paid. New fixations, too, have arisen: to map the narratives of my amaranthine nightmares, to parse the patterns of diffuse images of terror and decay that drift throughout my consciousness, to grapple with religion, God, the transmutation of the body and the limits of the human mind, the actual capacity of the thing and the shape of its components. Lately a vague sensation of erosion has begun to worm its way into my cognizant perception—a knowledge of mental illness, colors swaying into a kind of one color, that which contains every color and/or imageable, magmatic structure.


Random / 7 Comments
October 9th, 2012 / 3:45 pm

Do you think it’s inappropriate to talk politics on HTMLGiant? Do you tell people who you’re voting for? Are there any honest Republicans out there willing to write a long ideological rant about Mitt Romney? (Please no liberals.)


The Best American Review of the Best American Poetry 2012

I flipped to five poems in the anthology at random and wrote five sentences about each one.

1. “Hate Mail” by Carol Muske-Dukes
I can’t tell if this poem is supposed to be ironic or reflective or pissy. It doesn’t matter though because the poem doesn’t matter. It explores some really wack-a-doodle subjects such as blimps, the ozone layer, pigs flying, uses the words “whore,” “God”  and “honkers,” and even references the completely relevant world of l33t culture, inserting “btw” in the middle of a line. I don’t care about either side of the phrase “Queen Tut”—I just don’t care. This poem is trying so hard to be funny, controversial and current that it feels used up and desperate.


September 19th, 2012 / 9:11 pm