Behind the Scenes
“Galco holsters, specializing in gun holsters, including, pistol holsters, western holsters, concealed carry holsters, shoulder holsters”
I feel like I’m wired for clutter. The apartment I grew up in was crammed and overstocked. My bedroom looked like a garage. There was a giant wooden cabinet in the middle of the room—way larger than my bed if you’d set it flat—full of things like paint thinner, power drills, broken toys, empty old tins of Danish cookies and Slim Jim boxes stuffed with expired coupons. This was not my stuff. This was being stored.
When I am in a cluttered space, my guard’s down. I tend to allow myself more overwhelming feelings. When I read things that are cluttered—sentences that are lists, or things that juxtapose in messy ways—I feel high. Strung out. Excellent. Thumbs up. When I read elegantly constructed work or things that make careful use of space, things that seem well-arranged, I feel scared and suspicious. Daunted. This is insane of me a little. Poet comes from the Sanskrit cinoti, meaning roughly “to pile up.” The first poetry was said to be lists of dead farm animals.
Why do I know this? A little because it’s true and more because it makes me feel relieved. Livestock and supply. Storage rooms are very holy to me. The back of a grocery store is amazing. It’s an effort—in this camp, I mean, maybe not for you—to say a thing simply, to say a single thing, not to complicate or clutter that thing with an adjacent thing that probably deserves its own space. The planet is running out of water. Once I heard that there are no tin mines in the U.S. The Wizard Of Oz is strange because it is a story about a distinct group of characters, but honestly it is hard relate to any of them. They all seem ridiculous. Usually when you have a group of characters you are supposed to relate to at least one. “That’s such a Samantha thing to say.” When someone sets two things next to each other that go perfectly together, and that someone is then able to leave the room well enough alone, I am intimidated. I feel like punching that person. Tonight I read a story where someone wears a bikini made of Nicotine patches. That felt good. When I read skinny poems I roll my eyes, which is not the skinny poem’s fault. When I read stories with a bunch of white space I want to get up and go outside and walk and fill a bag with different types of doughnuts. In L.A. there is an amazing store called Galco’s, where you can buy soda of many different flavors, and the store pulls off the illusion of always seeming to have one or two more flavors than you can possibly imagine. Which is impossible. A store can’t defeat an imagination.
I won’t find any dog cum soda or plier rust soda. But there is something about all those different bottle designs that suggests: someone has already thought of what I’m about to think of. I don’t know what to feel about this. Sometimes I’ll invent something—a phrase, a computer game, a cereal—and I’ll dismiss it automatically because of what I know about Google. I don’t even have to look. It’s already there. Part of my project in life is not to feel shitty about this. All the different parts of your teeth have weird names. The front of them, where they enter the gum. All of that has names and people who were managing many different commitments at once came up with those names. People always say, more or less: “if you’re so messy how do you find shit?” Sometimes I will need to do something, and I will just use whatever’s there. If I am going to use the scissors to flip the eggs, I am going to use the scissors. I think I would flip my shit if I didn’t.
Mike? Will you go on a date with me?
Mike? Will you go on a date with me?
“I don’t even have to look. It’s already there.”
The folk wisdom of our era!
“I don’t even have to look. It’s already there.”
The folk wisdom of our era!
Mike? Will you go on a date with me?
“I don’t even have to look. It’s already there.”
The folk wisdom of our era!
i’ve gotten suspicious of clean art. like, can someone reallty use all that ink and not get thumbprints on it? soooo white and pristine. they can., but i can’t, is the thing, i guess. but does it have to be true, clean = a pro? nah. i like some smudges and drips,even maybe if they are put there on purpose.
i’ve gotten suspicious of clean art. like, can someone reallty use all that ink and not get thumbprints on it? soooo white and pristine. they can., but i can’t, is the thing, i guess. but does it have to be true, clean = a pro? nah. i like some smudges and drips,even maybe if they are put there on purpose.
I like this, it reminds me of Dodie Bellamy a little, but maybe just b/c I’m reading her right now.
I like this, it reminds me of Dodie Bellamy a little, but maybe just b/c I’m reading her right now.
sometimes this is a comforting feeling tho, when you fear you are alone in something and then you search for it and find that other people testify
sometimes this is a comforting feeling tho, when you fear you are alone in something and then you search for it and find that other people testify
have you seen roger ballen’s photographs? you should google him. his shit is stunning.
have you seen roger ballen’s photographs? you should google him. his shit is stunning.
alas janey i’m committed to another janey-in-spirit, you did too good a job proliferating
alas janey i’m committed to another janey-in-spirit, you did too good a job proliferating
i judge bookstores based on whether they have the BARF manifesto
i judge bookstores based on whether they have the BARF manifesto
There was a soda store like that in Jackson, Mississippi. It was overwhelming. They had “spruce beer,” which is the worst soda I’ve ever tasted – like furniture polish. They also had celery soda, which was surprisingly not bad. Most of their sodas weren’t aberrations, but browsing their shelves did make the possibilities seem endless.
There was a soda store like that in Jackson, Mississippi. It was overwhelming. They had “spruce beer,” which is the worst soda I’ve ever tasted – like furniture polish. They also had celery soda, which was surprisingly not bad. Most of their sodas weren’t aberrations, but browsing their shelves did make the possibilities seem endless.
i’ve gotten suspicious of clean art. like, can someone reallty use all that ink and not get thumbprints on it? soooo white and pristine. they can., but i can’t, is the thing, i guess. but does it have to be true, clean = a pro? nah. i like some smudges and drips,even maybe if they are put there on purpose.
I like this, it reminds me of Dodie Bellamy a little, but maybe just b/c I’m reading her right now.
sometimes this is a comforting feeling tho, when you fear you are alone in something and then you search for it and find that other people testify
have you seen roger ballen’s photographs? you should google him. his shit is stunning.
alas janey i’m committed to another janey-in-spirit, you did too good a job proliferating
i judge bookstores based on whether they have the BARF manifesto
celery is mostly water, right, yeah, i can see how celery soda would be refreshing
sometimes the right aberration is enough to suggest infinite aberrations
celery is mostly water, right, yeah, i can see how celery soda would be refreshing
sometimes the right aberration is enough to suggest infinite aberrations
There was a soda store like that in Jackson, Mississippi. It was overwhelming. They had “spruce beer,” which is the worst soda I’ve ever tasted – like furniture polish. They also had celery soda, which was surprisingly not bad. Most of their sodas weren’t aberrations, but browsing their shelves did make the possibilities seem endless.
“language as material, language as process, language as something to be shoveled into a machine and spread across pages, only to be discarded and recycled once again. language as junk, language as detritus. nutritionless language, meaningless language, unloved language, everyday speech, illegibility, unreadability, machinistic repetition. obsessive archiving and cataloging…language of quantity and not quality. how much did you say that paragraph weighed?” – Kenny Goldsmith
i really love this post, mike.
“language as material, language as process, language as something to be shoveled into a machine and spread across pages, only to be discarded and recycled once again. language as junk, language as detritus. nutritionless language, meaningless language, unloved language, everyday speech, illegibility, unreadability, machinistic repetition. obsessive archiving and cataloging…language of quantity and not quality. how much did you say that paragraph weighed?” – Kenny Goldsmith
i really love this post, mike.
thanks, kristin! / i feel twitchy to find myself camped with k.g, but i will roll with it / i like your post “Stuffing” a lot: http://everythingsimultaneously.blogspot.com/2010/07/stuffing.html
thanks, kristin! / i feel twitchy to find myself camped with k.g, but i will roll with it / i like your post “Stuffing” a lot: http://everythingsimultaneously.blogspot.com/2010/07/stuffing.html
on it mike, especially in regards to waste around the room. my god i can disturb some purpose in a room in like .2 but like you said, my skin feels right if the lamp’s askew, any other way and i feel like i’m wearing a cardigan.
story-wise (i always feel the dullard talking about poetry), the search for the perfect gem of a story grates on my subconscious. i like a little muss in my people, stories, life cycle, arrangements. (in an uncle voice) shows character.
on it mike, especially in regards to waste around the room. my god i can disturb some purpose in a room in like .2 but like you said, my skin feels right if the lamp’s askew, any other way and i feel like i’m wearing a cardigan.
story-wise (i always feel the dullard talking about poetry), the search for the perfect gem of a story grates on my subconscious. i like a little muss in my people, stories, life cycle, arrangements. (in an uncle voice) shows character.
celery is mostly water, right, yeah, i can see how celery soda would be refreshing
sometimes the right aberration is enough to suggest infinite aberrations
“language as material, language as process, language as something to be shoveled into a machine and spread across pages, only to be discarded and recycled once again. language as junk, language as detritus. nutritionless language, meaningless language, unloved language, everyday speech, illegibility, unreadability, machinistic repetition. obsessive archiving and cataloging…language of quantity and not quality. how much did you say that paragraph weighed?” – Kenny Goldsmith
i really love this post, mike.
thank you sir. CAKE.
no kenny camp? quote fired my brain when i read above… thick tufts of text and thought, waste and futility, want and wonder.
thank you sir. CAKE.
no kenny camp? quote fired my brain when i read above… thick tufts of text and thought, waste and futility, want and wonder.
thanks, kristin! / i feel twitchy to find myself camped with k.g, but i will roll with it / i like your post “Stuffing” a lot: http://everythingsimultaneously.blogspot.com/2010/07/stuffing.html
yeah, you’re right, i think i just have negative preconceptions in my head of camp kenny =) but it is a beautiful quote.
yeah, you’re right, i think i just have negative preconceptions in my head of camp kenny =) but it is a beautiful quote.
on it mike, especially in regards to waste around the room. my god i can disturb some purpose in a room in like .2 but like you said, my skin feels right if the lamp’s askew, any other way and i feel like i’m wearing a cardigan.
story-wise (i always feel the dullard talking about poetry), the search for the perfect gem of a story grates on my subconscious. i like a little muss in my people, stories, life cycle, arrangements. (in an uncle voice) shows character.
thank you sir. CAKE.
no kenny camp? quote fired my brain when i read above… thick tufts of text and thought, waste and futility, want and wonder.
yeah, you’re right, i think i just have negative preconceptions in my head of camp kenny =) but it is a beautiful quote.
yeah, it’s a grating or it’s like a turtleneck or something, absolutely
yeah, it’s a grating or it’s like a turtleneck or something, absolutely
yeah, it’s a grating or it’s like a turtleneck or something, absolutely
Yeah and one thing I like about your stuff, Mike, is that your writing and songs are filled with the clutter of your life, and then the writing and songs physically clutter your life, and then the clutter of the art makes it into the art. It gets messy and fun in a way that disarms the usual criticism of dudes (“There goes X, being a weirdo to set himself apart when he ought to just try and write better.”) Feels more unified the messier it gets, which is a pretty neat trick to pull off.
Yeah and one thing I like about your stuff, Mike, is that your writing and songs are filled with the clutter of your life, and then the writing and songs physically clutter your life, and then the clutter of the art makes it into the art. It gets messy and fun in a way that disarms the usual criticism of dudes (“There goes X, being a weirdo to set himself apart when he ought to just try and write better.”) Feels more unified the messier it gets, which is a pretty neat trick to pull off.
Yeah and one thing I like about your stuff, Mike, is that your writing and songs are filled with the clutter of your life, and then the writing and songs physically clutter your life, and then the clutter of the art makes it into the art. It gets messy and fun in a way that disarms the usual criticism of dudes (“There goes X, being a weirdo to set himself apart when he ought to just try and write better.”) Feels more unified the messier it gets, which is a pretty neat trick to pull off.