Are you ready, or what?
All signs point to the apocalypse tomorrow. Have you heard?
Fuck: what if they’re right? (They’re not, but who would get the last laugh?)
What are you doing in preparation and/or celebration?
What is Experimental Literature? {Preview: Five Questions Vol. 2}
I’m excited to announce that the second volume of my ongoing series will resume in June.
If you missed any of the ten responses from the first volume, I’ve cataloged them for your convenience here.
The second round of questions come from answers given by the participants in the first round, and the people giving answers this time will be:
Dennis Cooper
Dodie Bellamy
Evan Lavender-Smith
Eileen Myles
Brian Evenson
Vi Khi Nao
Selah Saterstrom
Johannes Göransson
Sesshu Foster
Michael Martone
Stay tuned. It’s gonna be good!
Fables
Tarapaulin Sky has come alive again with a fistful of new release including Issue #17 of their journal & Johannes Goransson’s Entrance to a Colonial Pageant in which We All begin to intricate.
But I want to talk about FABLES, a new book by author & artist Sarah Goldstein. From TP website:
Sarah Goldstein
Fables
Suggested Pairings: Garth Greenwell and Harry Porter and the Bourbon Soaked Vanilla Beans Porter
You are in Bulgaria. You are a teacher. You are an American man seeking to meet men. To meet them in a certain type of bathroom, “…a chill room with its impression of damp…” “…having a single purpose only, any other use of them accidental.” You meet a young, homeless Bulgarian, Mitko. He tries to sell you drugs. You don’t want drugs, you want sex. So he sells you sex. A transaction. But you want to take this transaction further. Most would not—it’s a crazy idea, to confuse this form of transaction with something deeper. Unless you are torn, to the own self. Your wants, motives, and mind. Well. Here we go. And so it begins.
As you surmised, I’m a drug dealer. Example: Yesterday, a young man pedaled over to my house to trade beer for drugs. I gave him 75 tablets of ibuprofen, four packets of raw sugar, and 2.6 pounds of Starbucks Coffee House Blend Melange Maison. He loaded these into his bicycle basket and passed me a six pack of Harry Porter and the Bourbon Soaked Vanilla Beans Porter (Great Lakes Brewery). Dork. But I will say the beer pours a dark cedar with a spare diminishing marshmallowy light-auburn head.
Books by people named Garth. I rarely read them.
Jon Cotner and Andy Fitch on Food Network!
Not really, but close. In this new episode of Emily Gould’s “Cooking the Books,” Jon Cotner and Andy Fitch make green juice and read from their collaboration Ten Walks/Two Talks. Along the way we learn that Cotner and Fitch met as 19-year-olds in Boston. They were both crashing on someone’s roof, and started talking. They’ve kept talking. We also hear some thoughts about Basho and zits.
Timothy Donnelly, who selected Ten Walks/Two Talks as a Best Book of 2010 for The Week, included an excerpt from Cotner and Fitch’s new project Conversations over Stolen Food in Boston Review‘s National Poetry Month celebration. The short piece is called “Spiritual Laws.” It takes place in a grocery store they call “W.F.” This excerpt moves from Emerson, to a kid who soils his shorts, back to Emerson, then ends with a discussion of anxiety and bicycles.
Dogs and such
I once felt compelled to finish everything I began. Not sure why. The tendency can be just as foolish as admirable. Today I was on page 188 of Peter Arnettt’s Live From the Battlefield (Yes, I know, a certain classic) and I came across yet another scene that had me off my feed. Ever have that friend who only tells stories where they personally come out on top? Here, the young reporter Arnett confronts an older established journalist for writing a too optimistic account of a military operation during the Vietnam conflict.
I felt he had misrepresented the action.
“Son,” he grinned bitterly at me, “I was doing this long before you were born.”
“Tom,” I responded angrily, “I’ll be doing this long after you’re dead.” He looked at me in startled shock and mumbled into his Scotch. Reddy didn’t say much to me after that.
Everything about this exchange felt phony to me. The adverbs. The older journalist as “startled” by the exchange, the mumbling into Scotch, The John Wayne/Noir mix of the comeuppance Arnett is recalling 30+ years later. He lost me. I stopped reading. I give myself permission. Because written words were doing their thing long before I was born and will be doing it long after I’m dead. I only have so many books I can read in my lifetime. I now stop a book when I’ve read enough to feel I need to stop. And then pick up another.
Editorial Notes
Some positive notes I made editing the final version of Mathias Svalina’s I AM A VERY PRODUCTIVE ENTREPRENEUR (Mud Luscious Press, July 2011)
Fuck I love how you write things like this
Kills me – fantastic as all get out
Cripes. I couldn’t love these phrases more
Fuck. YES.
YESSSSS
Hilarious
I feel like this section in particular really speaks to the whole of the book, underneath the clever disguises
Lovely
Shit. Brilliant
Watching The Twilight Zone
A few weeks ago, the lymph nodes along my neck suddenly swelled up. I had a doctor check it out and he determined I had strep throat, and then a week later, added mononucleosis to the diagnosis. Sort of a one-two punch of undergraduate illness. I didn’t feel that sick, and suffered little symptoms other than the inflamed globules along my jugular, but it became clear to me, getting drunk off three beers and exhausted at 5pm, that I should probably take it easy. My regular leisure, after school, work, and whatever other responsibilities I’ve lined up for myself on a given day, is to kick back with a few-to-several beers and do things on the internet. The doctor recommended I avoid this, so there was only one viable solution to passing time at the same rate and pleasure level: watch TV. I am one of those lucky enough to have acquired a password to my friend’s Netflix Instant Watch account, and, after watching The Larry Sanders Show, Archer, The Stand miniseries, My So-Called Life, and The League in their entireties, I noticed that The Twilight Zone original series had been recently added to the queue. Though perhaps the most referenced and acclaimed cult series in history, I must admit, I’d never seen one episode. I resolved, then, it would be my next big tackle in my imperial takeover of internet television.