Leonard Stern 1922-2011
I’m sad to hear that Leonard Stern, co-creator of Mad Libs, has died (via Flavorwire).
What is Experimental Literature? {Five Questions: Dodie Bellamy}
Dodie Bellamy’s most recent book is the buddhist (Publication Studio), an essayistic memoir based on her blog, Belladodie. Her most recent chapbook is Whistle While You Dixie (Summer BF Press). Time Out New York named her chapbook Barf Manifesto (Ugly Duckling) “Best Book Under 30 Pages” for 2009. She usually teaches 4 classes a semester in the grad writing programs at Antioch Los Angeles, California College of the Arts, and San Francisco State.
Ken Baumann—
Visual representations of Infinite Jest objects (movie posters, tennis tourny flyers, etc.). The Quarterly Conversation dedicates a symposium to David Foster Wallace; Who Was David Foster Wallace? And Unbound is a Kickstarter for books. Oh wait: the writer of 20% of all Simpsons episodes has self-published a bunch of novels.
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Ken Baumann—
Best deal in town for rad literature: DALKEY SUMMER SALE. Up to 60% off and free US shipping, running through June 15th. Go.
Roxane Gay—
Téa Obreht has won the Orange Prize for her debut novel The Tiger’s Wife. She is the youngest winner etc. etc. The other writers on the shortlist were Emma Donoghue, Aminatta Forna, Emma Henderson, Nicole Krauss and Kathleen Winter.
Interview of an Intoxicated Runner
Last week I had a slight buzz and attempted to randomly email 10 random athletes who intoxicated themselves on various substances WHILE COMPETING in their chosen athletic event. Dock Ellis has no email; he is dead. (“The ball was small sometimes, the ball was large sometimes, sometimes I saw the catcher, sometimes I didn’t.”) Ron Artest, of Hennessey fame, would not answer his Laker’s fan site email address. (“I kept it in my locker. I’d just walk to the liquor store and get it.”) Jeremy Mayfield (“What are you calling illegal?”) drove a race car while on meth, but who here gives a fuck about NASCAR? So. But human being and conceptual artist (in my opinion, as I feel artistic perception presupposes its own dimensionality, beyond involvement or signification or even the substitution of stimulus for sensation, etc.) Joe Kukura answered the mail. Thank you, Joe.
Last July, Joe ran the San Francisco Half Marathon (13.1) miles while drinking 13.1 beers, or one beer every mile along the way. I decided to interview the man.
It seems you have removed the form and movements of running and drinking from their normal contexts, selected their material and spiritual natures and combined them, thus creating art. And any art that becomes physical I consider to be the sublime. Do you consider yourself a conceptual artist?
No, but I’m flattered by the analogy! I consider myself a humor blogger. That medium, though, holds outsize importance in contemporary culture. Any old nobody with a DSL connection, if they’re funny enough, can have a driving role in how vast numbers of people are amused — if for an hour, a day, a week, or more. (Ever forward an LOLcat jpeg? It was produced by an un-famous random person, yet it may have ultimately amused thousands.) It’s a great blessing to be writing during this era.
I suppose there is a train-wreck “self-abuse as art” strain in this project, a la Lux Interior from the Cramps or on that old “Jackass” TV program. And I will admit to bringing a philosophical or intellectual tone to discussions drinking booze while exercising — but that is meant only as a humor device. My main creative motivation is that I just want to be someone who has a good blog.
How many times have you vomited during a run?
Tales of Woe and Toenails
Yes, I am well aware that the first marathon runner dropped dead for his efforts. If he hadn’t, we wouldn’t go 26.2 miles; we’d go some other outrageous distance that killed its first runner.
Every year a few people die running marathons. Of course, every day ridiculous numbers of people die doing absolutely nothing. I choose to run marathons, and I don’t have a death wish, though I will admit I’m drawn to the drama of distance running. You could die. You could fracture bones, tear muscles, lose toenails. You will definitely suffer, a lot. Cool.
That said, it’s odd to talk about the drama of running because here’s another thing I’ll admit: running is boring. A fellow running buddy of mine once joked that no one has ever sat through the entirety of Chariots of Fire and remained conscious. And this is coming from someone who loves running more than he loves his wife and kids. I’ve never seen Chariots of Fire—in fact, I haven’t seen any movies about runners, and I don’t feel any particular compulsion to do so, despite the fact that my colleagues keep shouting “Prefontaine!” and “Run, Fatboy, Run!” when they see me at work. (People love it when they think they have you figured out; because I run marathons, they’ve decided that every aspect of my life no doubt revolves around running. It could be worse; there was that one year everyone thought I was into cows. Let’s just say I had a very Holstein Christmas.)
The Beginner’s Guide to Deleuze
Over lunch, Christopher Higgs and I talked about Gilles Deleuze. I was saying how a lot of my friends–Chris, Blake Butler, and Derek White, to name a few–are really into his writing, especially the ginormous book A Thousand Pleateaus, co-written with Felix Guattari. I’ve tried to read it and get into it a few times, and kept putting the book up, scared off by not being able to immediately comprehend the text, not being able to decipher the numerous codes, terms, coinages. Recently, I changed. I picked up A Thousand Pleateaus again and flipped to a random chapter and read. I enjoyed it, and am enjoying it. Like my experience with Finnegans Wake, there are lucid swathes that I feel I understand, and then there are times when it’s packed dense or just orgiastically conceptual and I tune out a bit. But that process of coming in and out of lucidity is nice. Sort of trancelike.
I mentioned asking Chris some questions about Deleuze, his thinking, the books. I’m sort of acquainted with his ideas through the book A Thousand Years of Nonlinear History (amazing book!), and what Deleuze I’ve now read. But, let me ask you/Chris some maybe dumb questions.
Firstly: Why should we read Deleuze?
Deleuze is the future. He is almost the now, but not yet. Just out of reach, just over the horizon, he is akin to the force that makes the sky pink after the sun sets and pink again right before the sun rises. He is both pre and post everything, like the feeling before a meal of being famished followed by the feeling after the meal of being stuffed. He does what no other thinker before him could do: he upends Plato, he quiets Hegel, he puts all the little thinkers to bed. READ MORE >
Well that’s interesting: Poets Athletic Club
I will send Chris Toll's book to the first commenter to name this player.
What’s in a name? From the outside, the Poet’s Athletic Club on North Avenue in Baltimore looks like it might be a bar. I’ve never been inside it. One time me and Steph called to see what the deal was. Apparently it’s a philanthropy club for people who went to Poets High School. There isn’t poetry happening, but I’m thinking there might be shuffleboard. There is a positive but racist review of it at Yelp.
After a lot of social searching, the softball team I’m playing on this year decided to co-opt the name for our team. We feature writer bodies, so Poets Athletic Club works well. We also considered “Ballers,” “Aristotle’s Poetics,” “Phat Pitches,” and “Nuts and Berries.”
Other teams in the league are, “We’d Hit That,” “Butt Sweat and Tears,” “Multiple Scoregasms” and “Smack that Pitch Up.” Names that are funny but aren’t vile include “Jean-Claude Grand Slam” and — no, that’s the only one. There are two teams named “Saved by the Balls” and two named “Don’t Come on Our Bases” and three named “Master Batters.” There is only one “Top of the 6th Bottom of the 9th.” There are over 200 teams in the league. I’ll let you know how we do.
Go! Team. Bring on the Major Leagues. Boring Triple Play (for Sasha Fletcher). Best baseball catches of the world. Braves go 13-0 in 82. The Brothers K. She’s 9. Ambidextrous pitcher has 6-fingered glove. Mike Schmidt retires crying. Cap’n Jazz. This stupid thing. This amazing thing. Spaceman Bill Lee. Tinker to Evers to Chance. Merkle’s Boner. OK, the bird one. Prince and Cecil. All the Stars Came Out That Night. The poop one. Steve Bartman (fuckn Cubs fans). Mays. Jones. Softball.