Sean Lovelace is running right now, far. Other times he teaches at Ball State University. HOW SOME PEOPLE LIKE THEIR EGGS is his flash fiction collection by Rose Metal Press. His works have appeared in Crazyhorse, Diagram, Sonora Review, Willow Springs, and so on.
I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.
Try a smirk that is not a smirk.
Nothing shall turn me.
What will happen to our odd photos now? We delete them. We delete them. We delete ourselves.
Drunk like house keys handed over to a youngest son.
Of word-play it has been said that those who most dislike them are those who are least able to utter them.
The nose of a mob is its imagination.
Golden bells! Brass rings!
There is an eloquence in true enthusiasm.
Sleep is a slice of death. I hate it.
Drunk as a famous photo.
Look. Convince yourself not to convince.
11. Decent collection of James Thurber fables. Dude had a series of glass eyes he would change out at parties, each one for his drink level at the time, each a little bit more red-eyed. He also had an American flag glass eye. He would go to the bathroom, toss in the flag eye, reenter the party.
5. Holy shit! Jeff either snagged the shark, lost his best spoon, or this:
About two weeks ago I tried living as if I were an indie writer.
Oh, the writerly worries of “going indie.” Though it’s one of those things where genre writers think indie means genre. As if genre is subversive. Or indie. Or that they correlate. Or something. Some tidbits, though, or why would I even yawn it here?
14444. Aimee Bender interview in Guernica.
1. Avant-Garde time capsule found.
9. Is caffeine important to the writer? How much do you use?
1. do you feel the need to finish a book you start?
2. what is the book by the author you read that book you’re pretty much done/you got that author down?
3. what book of poetry made you finally tolerate poetry?
4. what is the book you were reading and you thought, “I wish this book would keep on walking. I am blar it has ended, I am liquid-glandful and low. Keep going, book.”
5. what is the book (maybe assigned or some shit) you were reading and your serial bowl/crayonium went “Fuck I wish this book was over”?
6. what is the book you don’t want to see go electronic?
7. what’s the book people like but you doubt they read the whole thing?
8. what is the book you mark up with ink/lead/cur-ear (or did) the most?
9. what is the book you keep saying you’ll read but most likely will not?
10. what is the book you own the most copies of? one at your work, in the car floor, hollowed out for your secret letters/oregano, another in the kitchen junk drawer, one at your lover’s place, one at your spouse’s, one tonguing dust balls beneath the fridge, a page tacked on some old wall?
11. what is the book you’ve stolen the most from?
12. what is the book you are not returning–the one you actually stole?
11. A blue phone told an apple told a little bird and the little bird told me Willow Springs would really like to leer some glow right now. You can submit online. Stop touching your lovely forehead–submit!
5.
Word of mouth, true word of mouth – the good stuff, that actually sends the recommendee skipping off to the nearest bookshop or library – involves the impassioned retelling of a story.
No, not really, Mr. Gibbs. Not necessarily what word-of-mouth means at all, not when someone is sharing a book with me, or me with them. A plot outline? A re-telling of the story? Does anyone here (especially here) recommend books based on words, sentences, worlds created outside context of “what’s happening?” It will fuck your brain. Is that a story re-telling? And how do you recommend books of poetry based on story? Oh man, it’s about this bird that meets McDonald’s fries and they have a kid named Inability of Man to Truly Communicate. Word-of-mouth, the spreading of art by talk/phone/net (fuck Twitter)/blar is delivered in many varieties. I like a lot of books I don’t understand as “story.” It seems reductive, I’m just saying.
55. Aimee Bender gives a pep talk to the Battle Star Galactica people, I mean the NaNoWriMoMoFoSho peeps.
555. And Lucy Corin said, “I love the days I get to write forward from just my head, but those days are hard earned.”
14. Hey flashers! I know you’re there because I keep seeing you naked. Nice penis! Funky loins! Also don’t forget about the Rose Metal Press Fifth Annual Short Short Chapbook contest judged by Kim Chinquee. You miss 100% of the cigars you never unwrap, or something about Wayne Gretzky, something.
11. The “Star Whackers” are a group of assassins who hunt down and kill Hollywood celebrities. Q: Where do we donate?
2. Before her cure, she was holed up in her château dictating one much-worked-on line a day to Andréa, who would type it up. Then they would start uncorking cheap Bordeaux and she’d drink two glasses, vomit, then continue on till she’d drunk as many as nine liters and would pass out. She could no longer walk, or scarcely. She said she drank because she knew God did not exist. Her very sympathetic doctor would visit her almost daily and offer to take her to the hospital, but only if she wanted to live. She seemed undecided for a long time but at last she opted for life since she was determined to finish a book that she’d already started and was very keen about.
1414. Soft Skull Press is sort of dead, I guess.
9. The correct number of beer (s) to drink before a public reading? (You are reading.)
5. I didn’t know The S.C.U.M (Society for Cutting Up Men) manifesto was online. It is. Here you go:
It is now technically feasible to reproduce without the aid of males (or, for that matter, females) and to produce only females. We must begin immediately to do so.
Women, in other words, don’t have penis envy; men have pussy envy.
SCUM will couple-bust — barge into mixed (male-female) couples, wherever they are, and bust them up.
Lately chapbooks design/appear more glow than many book-books. Example winner of Concrete Wolf contest. Interview below:
The Food Network has perfected the cooking show by turning it into soft porn. The hosts actually moan when they taste what they have made. And although the chefs on the show are grating their own horseradish and making their own sausage, most of the commercials are for American cheese slices and frozen dinners. That doesn’t seem common to me. It seems insane.
No matter how hard humans try and wall ourselves off from the natural world, we still have mites living in our eyebrows.
Online publishing is young. Like a young person it is energetic, cocky, innovative, various, unstable, and full of shit. I’m excited to be around to watch it grow up.
What is the #1 all time overrated, over–anthologized, you-are-sick-of story or poem or essay?
