the website “robot melon” is awesome and it’s like heroin and gay sex because it makes me feel so damn good
robot melon is a journal run by stephen daniel lewis, who may or may not be a real human being. every time a new robot melon comes out i read the whole thing and i feel excitement about it beforehand. like i roll my sleeves up and do a dramatic knuckle cracking thing and then say to myself, “it’s now or never chico” and then i click on the issue. i don’t read too many journals by name rather than accidentally through someone else’s work. but i like robot melon. i think i would be gratified if robot melon existed for another 25 years. and on the 25th year stephen daniel lewis just wrote a really long obscene and hateful post and was like “robot melon will never die homey”.
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October 17th, 2008 / 12:12 am
October 17th, 2008 / 12:12 am
“boston review” or “shitty suck-sack”? you be the judge
in an attempt to be really mean, i decided to randomly attack a journal. so i went to google and typed in “the most literary journal” hoping someone would have referred to themselves like that. then i tried “mega awesome lit journal” and i got nothing. then i typed in a stupid sounding name “the boston review” and ta-da, it exists. here, for your spiteful edification, is me interjecting things into their about page:
“Boston Review is a nonpartisan magazine of ideas [yeah, shitty ideas]: animated by hope [and stupid-assedness] , committed to equality and reason [and being lame and butthole-y], convinced that the imagination eludes political categories [p.s.: we blow more than the show “m.a.s.h”]. We see each issue as a public space where people can loosen the hold of conventional preconceptions [really? or perhaps, loosen a stool into your mouth, just perhaps?] and bring this openness to bear on today’s most pressing issues [like what a good plot arc is]. Our mission requires that as editors we shun polemic and partisanship [and being not-dumb], uphold the highest standards of argument and evidence, value ambition and originality, seek widely diverse perspectives, and make complex ideas accessible [also to publish things as close compositionally to shit as possible without streaking the printer]. We have a national readership of men and women [and people who wear slippers in the reading room when they read our publication] who are engaged in the challenge of today’s world; who want deeper [anal] coverage of current affairs than the mainstream media offers; and who see the arts as an essential part of the human enterprise [yeah, the human enterprise of being a fuckhead with a shriveled penis that wears brooks brothers khakis].
i am a sucky piece of shit and i suck at writing
i feel perhaps my last post misrepresented my meanness. sure i hate everyone, but the person i really hate, and towards whom i am most unfair in my meanness, is myself. you see, i totally suck. and so here is some meanness directed towards the real piece of shit garbage asshole in the internet community, me:
you are an unhappy fuck who will never have kids or anyone to smile at without being accused of creepiness. you are an ugly man. you have never benefitted anyone’s life aside from leaving it alone. your best writing, if there is anything whatsover of any quality, is behind you. you are basically a sperm that flipped out of your dad’s underwear and grew legs after one of your dad’s wet dreams. you sleep on the floor of your apartment and sometimes you feel too destroyed to even drink water. you have lived in over eighteen homes so you cannot form a lasting relationship with anyone. you are a failure. you will probably live a long life but accomplish nothing. maybe you will be on tv once if you accidentally walk by where a reporter is filming. you feel terrible when you see other people smiling and you see no difference between a person and a sock except when you come in the person you know for a fact they are not happy, the sock maybe but you’re not really sure, i mean you know. you will be found in a closet somewhere surrounded by garbage and you will disappoint everyone you have ever known. plus you suck at all video games created after golden eye. you use slang that is just outside of cool, like “that’s the bomb yo” or “see you on the flipside, mac”. you are terrible, you terrible person you.
all internet writers are fucking pussies and i could kick all of their asses
look around you. is there a cat? are you experiencing existential problems? are you currently refreshing your network browser to see if that other disembodied internet person has furthered the argument about what surrealism is? do you read the believer? did you just laugh at a story on mc sweeneys about what it would be like if franz kafka had a little league team? do your poems suck really hard? and are you a pretentious asswipe? well then my friend, you are an internet writer. wait now, hold on, put those really skinny arms down, i’m not looking to fight it out with someone who experiences depression on so grand a scale as yourself. no doubt you’ve had it bad. but seriously, fuck you. you are passive, halfway philosophical, you write the same fucking autobiographical stories using the same contrived depression and angst and i could beat your fucking ass in a heartbeat. that’s right, i’m not even going to continue intellectually. i could kick all of your asses. so close your macbook pro (and stop ripping on whoever, most likely dave eggers or john updike because i am sure they are weeping onto their keyboards and listening to bright eyes, cursing that “writerdude78” just called them a “sellout”) and email me your address so i can come to your house and beat your skull in with my hand. i know this will alienate me further since like, or something, like physical violence is existentially fucked and like, you just want to write poems about being a pussy, and you can’t get hard anymore and you’re too busy defending someone else on their blog from a random commenter, like it even matters, but seriously, there is not one writer on the internet, with the exception of barry graham, who looks like he might be able to kick my ass, who i can’t fuck up. i hate everyone. the very idea of mean week is because you’re all pussies. fuck you. suck my cock. stop being a neurotic pussy and write something that makes you want to throw up when you read it.
DANIEL BAILEY CONTINUES TO RULE AND BE A TOTALLY HOT DUDE
yesterday i looked at daniel bailey’s blog. you may know daniel bailey as the most up and coming internet poet/totally hot dude on the web. on his blog he said he had finished a collection of poems. so i was like, “prove it man”. he then sent me the collection. it is called EAST CENTRAL INDIANA. i read it. it fucking rules. it rules like when you do a really good job coloring a page in a coloring book. it rules like when you think there is no more pudding in your fridge and then you move aside an old thing of jelly and there is another pudding cup. it rules like when you find a nest of baby birds and the mom isn’t there and you push a fast food straw into each of the baby bird’s skulls and blow air into their skulls until they expand and burst. here is a quote from EAST CENTRAL INDIANA:
“you looked
at the boney gravel as you said it and then you laid down
and made a bone angel and said, ‘it’s finally starting
to feel like winter is over.’ i said, ‘yeah’
and then i looked up at the sky and it wasn’t there“
barry graham has grouped women together and will be selling their work for american dollar bills
barry graham of paperhero press has grouped together
SUZANNE BURNS
ELIZABETH ELLEN
ANDREA KNEELAND
& CHELSEA MARTIN
in a chapbook collective and will be trading american dollars for their writing at a future point.
according to me, “barry graham looks like kerry king from slayer.”
the book will have words in it.
and careful, because sources say “if you put this book in a fireplace, it will burn up and be gone”. word is, most of the writing was done on a computer.
says chelsea martin, “you made up this quote.”
i will probably try to fool barry into giving me a copy for free.
i will say, “barry, baby, i work for the motherfucking internet giant now. i own your ass.”
i randomly selected a journal off of blake butler’s sidebar because he is cooler than me and then i edited the journal’s “about” page
well, as i explained in the title of this post, i selected a journal at random from blake butler’s sidebar. it was “caketrain”. i went to their website and edited some of the text on their “about” page.
here it is:
Caketrain is edited by A CHRISTMAS TREE and A HAMMER, who cofounded the project in 2003. In short, we (A CHRISTMAS TREE and A HAMMER) found ourselves realizing that this “crazy” passion-for-the-arts thing, which had long been fostered in all of us, was not going to be muffled by EVIL WHITE PEOPLE, or logic, or PRAYERLESS ASSASSINS SLEEPING IN TREES. Yes, the drive was here to stay, and we had HERPES; fortunately, we shared these HERPES with one another, and together, turned them into a journal and press (AND ITCHY GAPING SORES ON OUR LIPS AND GENITALS). Many have taken this route before, and we are proud to be accepted into their number. All of us—readers, writers, editors, and PEOPLE WITH HERPES alike—are engaged together in the struggle to stand our ground in a larger landscape in which literary daring is marginalized, ghettoized on small, out-of-the-way shelves where it sits unnoticed, unread, and ultimately forgotten (BECAUSE IT HAD WICKED HERPES AND STUFF).
shane jones writes amazing post about writing amazing story
only htmlgiant.com can bring you the rippingest, the virgin-ass rippingest, barbed wire tattooed, raw awesomeness of shane jones, who wrote an amazing post about an amazing story he wrote. his amazing post about his amazing story has spawned this amazing post about his amazing post about his amazing story. htmlgiant.com has already proven itself a contender in the small lit scene and hopefully this post will reach its already established readership.
scrape my arm and give me AIDS
i like this blog. it is by chris killen and socrates adams florou. here is a description of my first encounter with the blog:
(said ‘huh’ while noticing a link on chris killen’s blog)
(clicked the link and looked at the ground, waiting for the page to upload)
(waited and kept checking but my computer was slow)
(got really upset, like menopause upset, and just sat there)
(saw the page had uploaded)
(read the entire blog)
(lol-ed like a motherfucker)
(had nothing to do)
(pushed sexual organs back into body)
(checked email)