hello. i guess i am gena mohwish. both sam and jereme wanted me to write about my experience and post my pictures on htmlgiant, so here i am. it feels a little frightening to be writing here. my body just shook a little. okay.

**Pictures after the jump!**

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9 new winter themed additions have been added to the Willows Wept Review. I am not usually a fan of themes. To me themed writing feels contrived and meaningless kind of like a forced shit after eating too much cheese.

I read all the posted pieces . Nothing felt contrived. Everything was vibrant.

Specifically this piece by Brandi Wells:

January 6, 1998

I’m ending the post on a high note. There is no where else to go from here.

Godjira was a bad motherfucker. He was a massive green mutant dinosaur raining down death and destruction because it was Tuesday in Tokyo, and Godjira recognized it was a banal Tuesday and had nothing better to do than melt tiny Japanese flesh sacks with his radioactive fire breath.

The city would get fucked up. High rise buildings in ruin. Virgins slaughtered. Expensive military vehicles raped.

The big green guy wiped his ass with Tokyo. Gratuitous aggression at its pinnacle.

There was always a downfall to his reign.

In a few of the movies an attractive young girl with some moxie devises a way to spank his dick and send him pouting back to his ocean floor studio apartment.

The battle for Tokyo is here and now(once again). Godjira has resurfaced. I am afraid. I need to be held by a comely female or a frail man with soft skin until the battle is over.

Please pretty young girl defeat Godjira and save us all.

My introduction to poetry readings was interesting.  A few years ago my life consisted mostly of copious amounts of Oxycontin (among other opiates), extreme alienation and reading poetry.  I used poetry to cope with the loneliness and agony when the opiate ration wasn’t enough to distract me.

I wanted to hear live poetry for a reason I cannot remember now.  Google showed only one poetry reading in Orange County.  It happened to be right down the street from where I lived at an independent cafe named “the Ugly Mug”.

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let’s be breast friends forever.

The “Story of O” is a French erotic novel written by Anne Desclos (originally under a pen name). Desclos wrote “O” as a series of letters to Jean Paulhan, her lover and eventual publisher, in response to Paulhan’s claim that a woman could never write like the Marquis de Sade.

Many terms used in contemporary BDSM are attributed to Desclos’s novel. It is a story of female submission, torture, sexuality, objectification and (ultimately) of love. The character O is whipped, chained, branded, beaten, pierced, dominated and fucked. Basically O is a submissive good girl who allows all of these somewhat horrific events to occur by granting her masters verbal permission to perform the acts.

The ending is beautiful and will upset some.

The story is fiction and should be treated thusly by those who find the novel misogynistic or disagree with the submissive nature of the heroine. The book was written by a woman, not a man, as an act of love.

Who are we to cast objections over love between two lovers.

EXT. DAY – A VERDANT PASTURE

A group of three men squat naked on a hill, each quietly contemplating life while shitting.  A spring cloud approaches from the east.

MAN 1

(jumps up excitedly)

I have created something beautiful!  Look at my shit turd!  Gaze upon its fullness!  Take note of its deep color!  Oh how special my turd is!

MAN 2

(pointing at his excrement)

Yes, I have created also!  My beautiful jagged turd how I appreciate you!  You are unique and different!  A turd not of this world.

MAN 3

(acting disinterested)

I too have created.  My turd is small and compact.

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Miyazawa Kenji began existence in 1896 and stopped existing in 1933.  He wrote chldren’s stories and poetry.  I am not going to elaborate why I like him or why I think you should read him.

This is a favorite poem from Miyazawa:

Strong in the Wind

Strong in the rain
Strong in the wind
Strong against the summer heat and snow
He is healthy and robust
Unselfish
He never loses his temper
Nor the quiet smile on his lips
He eats four go of unpolished rice
Miso and a few vegetables a day
He does not consider himself
In whatever occurs…his understanding
Comes from observation and experience
And he never loses sight of things
He lives in a little thatched-roof hut
In a field in the shadows of a pine tree grove
If there is a sick child in the east
He goes there to nurse the child
If there’s a tired mother in the west
He goes to her and carries her sheaves
If someone is near death in the south
He goes and says, “Don’t be afraid”
If there’s strife and lawsuits in the north
He demands that the people put an end to their pettiness
He weeps at the time of drought
He plods about at a loss during the cold summer
Everyone calls him “Blockhead”
No one sings his praises
Or takes him to heart…

That is the sort of person
I want to be

I imagine Eddie Bunker slow smoking a cigarette while blank staring out a dirty window in a dirty motel room in a dirty city called LA.  Eddie feels fear and outspoken rage towards normal society because they refuse to accept him as a valid human being.  Eddie understands the concept of urban survival and has made a cognizant decision to become the predator and not the prey.  A stolen hand gun sits on his left and a typewriter sits on his right.  Today Eddie chooses the typewriter.

***

I like Edward ‘Eddie” Bunker a lot.  His prose isn’t anything particular and you won’t find University professors discussing his work to bubblegum eyed freshman.   The work is still enjoyable.

He spent the first half of his life surviving mean streets and concrete cages, evading the law (including being on the FBI’s Most Wanted list), and writing from his prison cell.

Urban survival in LA taught him to be predatory, violent and apathetic towards fellow humans.  Acclimation to his harsh reality resulted in rejection from society.  Overwhelming feelings of alienation and rage followed.  These concepts are static in his writing.

If I had to choose one of his books to recommend, I would suggest “No Beast So Fierce”.  “Animal Factory” being second.

Any young person with MTV glossed images of LA dancing in their soft little heads should read Eddie’s work.  Greater people have broke themselves against this city’s teeth.

You aren’t very special.  You won’t make it out alive.

Results of the Blake Butler “Ever” mean giveaway are in.  (Actually they have been in since Friday.   Apathy is a motherfucker.)
Blake picked Ryan Bradley.  It was a toss up between Barry and Darby for me.  Barry was slightly meaner.

Barry and Ryan email me your addresses.  I need to put the order in before I forget.

*No retards have been depicted in this post.

This is my friend Wen.  He owns a print business.  He makes some sweet shirts.  I tricked Wen and took this picture of his boob.

This is not juvenile.  This is fun.

The Hagakure is a samurai doctrine written by Tsunetomo Yamamoto near the end of his life.  The text originally was kept alive within small samurai clans and later became the defacto warrior philosophy text of Japan.  The kamikaze pilots of Pearl Harbor were gifted a handwritten version of the text during the ceremonies of their death mission.

Here are some excerpts:

A certain swordsman in his declining years said the following:
In one’s life. there are levels in the pursuit of study. In the lowest level, a person studies but nothing comes of it, and
he feels that both he and others are unskillful. At this point he is worthless. In the middle level he is still useless but is
aware of his own insufficiencies and can also see the insufficiencies of others. In a higher level he has pride
concerning his own ability, rejoices in praise from others, and laments the lack of ability in his fellows. This man has
worth. In the highest level a man has the look of knowing nothing .
These are the levels in general;. But there is one transcending level, and this is the most excellent of all. This person is
aware of the endlessness of entering deeply into a certain Way arid never thinks of himself as having finished. He
truly knows his own insufficiencies and never in his whole life thinks that he has succeeded. He has no thoughts of
pride but with self-abasement knows the Way to the end. It is said that Master Yagyu once remarked, “I do not know
the way to defeat others, but the way to defeat myself. ”
Throughout your life advance daily, becoming more skillful than yesterday, more skillful than today. This is neverending.

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Blake Butler is the single most selfish individual on the face of this earth. Blake Butler often smells of fatty oils and spits when he talks. I don’t understand how any one finds value in his writing.

Babies eating each other is not good literature. Is it even literature?

He’s constantly writing nonsensical fluff like:

d;lk**346;d44OIIIOOOPP3ffd)

What the fuck am I supposed to do with this? It has no meaning.

Or he’ll misuse body parts in ridiculous sentence structures. “Sniff urethra farm sailing pie”

huh?

Let’s analyze why Blake is a douche.

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Sweet female cleavage i do not have today.  My source fell through.  What I do have are some awesome homoerotic chesticles.  I helped him pick out the nipple rings.  His nipples are sensitive and wet.

I do not know what is wrong with me.

Ryan Manning is a persona only able to exist in the 21^st Century blogosphere. His attention whore antics, flagrant theft of authors and sexual innuendoes have been filling the blog rolls since my first introduction to blogs almost 2 years ago. Amazingly, Ryan has never been called out for his behavior. I think people dismiss him as the little brother who is slow in mental capacity and clumsily claps his hands when excited.

He’s not a retard. He’s a narcissist. Here’s a blurb from http://www.narcissisticabuse.com/ :

Narcissism is categorized as a personality disorder by the mental health profession.  It is referred to as NPD or Narcissistic Personality Disorder.  Few are ever diagnosed because few go to therapy.   Narcissism is not high self-esteem, but a condition where the typical narcissist suffers from

• Preoccupation with hiding real or perceived flaws
• Overestimation of  importance, achievements, talents and skills
• Maladaptive attention seeking behavior
• Inability to empathize with others
• Excessive anger and shame in response to criticism often resulting in rage

The narcissist will often manipulate others, especially partners, to control them.  Projection and blame are hallmarks of this manipulation.  It is estimated that 85% of narcissists are males.

The sole item missing from the narcissistic abuse website definition is a picture of Ryan looking smarmy.

I will address each attribute with an example after the break.

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I apologize for the late post.  Friday is indeed over.  I have a good excuse though.  Let me explain.

I went deep undercover into the scorpion’s nest.  My phone camera was crotch concealed and undetected.  My life was in jeopardy and the final question was “What is you’re fucked?”.

Seriously, I am flayed skin if these guys find out I am secretely posting drunken pictures on HTML Giant to increase female/homosexual readership.

Enjoy:

My ball skin wears thinner every time I hear/read the words ‘Tao Lin’. Statements like ‘Tao Lin is the King of Bloggers’, ‘I love Tao Lin’, ‘Tao Lin is a great guy’, and ‘Tao Lin saved my life’ are thrown around free and excessive. I don’t get it. Tao Lin is not a ‘good guy’ and he’s not necessarily a ‘bad guy’.

He’s a self-interested writer type of guy.

Most of Tao Lin’s persona attributes are misconstrued (specifically the guise of neutrality) by his readership of emotionally distraught teenage girls.

Leave a comment on Tao Lin’s blog; he’ll respond back with a very unimaginative ‘I am glad’ or ‘thank you for’ and end with restating your comment.

Reader: ‘Tao Lin your poetry saved my life’

Tao Lin: ‘Reader I am glad my poetry saved your life’

Send Tao Lin an email describing how “EEE EEE EEE” helped you survive being committed to a mental hospital for self-mutilation because you, as a human being, could not cope with the torture and abuse endured at home; he’ll respond with the same unimaginative reply of ‘I am glad’ or ‘thank you’ or may not reply at all.

Occasionally, he will freely give away books to people expressing desire to read a ‘Tao Lin book’ they may not be able to afford. Nothing altruistic exists in his actions.

He does not often post comments on other blogs. When he does, the comments will be centered around him completely dismissing the subject of the blog post. Don’t be surprised if he asks you what font size is used on that post about how your wife had a miscarriage.

Shock announcement: TAO LIN DOES NOT CARE ABOUT YOU.

Tao Lin is fond of citing his indifference, neutrality and world view. This is all part of his gimmick. Tao Lin is not indifferent or neutral and the only world view I can perceive is a world view of Tao Lin being famous.

Post a comment on Tao’s blog indicating you’re a professor wanting to teach his books to this year’s creative writing students; Tao Lin will interact and become very interested in your goals.

Email Tao letting him know you are a semi-famous person who enjoys his work; he’ll interact with you and blog about it.

Tao has spent monolithic efforts to promote his work and aesthetic. More hours have been spent trying to get linked by Gawker than replying to a single email from a teenage girl reaching out while feeling very alone and suicidal because her alcoholic step-father beats her.

Tao Lin is not indifferent.

A lizard is indifferent. It exists, bathes in the sun, eats, sleeps, and reproduces. That is indifference. What it doesn’t do is fret over being famous, promote its work with every breath and action, and desperately strive toward a very specific style/persona.

Tao Lin is far from indifferent. Don’t let him fool you. Don’t excuse what he does because he seems meek. He is quite aware of his actions.

I do not blame the emotionally damaged teenagers for confusing this concept. The rest of you are shameful.

Hello Ladies!  It is Chesticles Friday!

Men are being objectified as requested.  This has nothing to do with Indie Lit.

One guy has a band, one guy has a motorcycle.

One guy gets laid, one guy doesn’t.

Both of these knuckleheads are my real life friends.  My death is imminent if they discover I am exploiting their smooth bellies.  I guess that’s how exploitation works though.