July 29th, 2011 / 4:38 pm
 Web Hype

“When This Time Is the Time That Comes” by J.A. Tyler

Some fine writing by the one and only J.A. Tyler now lives on my little online book concern, Happy Cobra Books. You should go read it.

And then, listen to this song by the New Orleans doom/sludge metal band Thou. It’s—maybe—the only doom/sludge metal song you’ll hear today that opens with a blast beat.

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18 Comments

  1. July 29th, 2011 / 8:52 pm Benjamin Grislic—

      I love Thou. And JA Tyler. Put them together and I really like that combination.

  2. July 29th, 2011 / 9:22 pm Matthew Simmons—

      Might I suggest a Buffalo Trace (neat) and a Hop Czar Imperial IPA to go with the two as well?

  3. July 29th, 2011 / 10:15 pm Benjamin Grislic—

      I applaud that contribution. I might do this tonight, but I may replace the Hop Czar with a growler of Three Floyds Zombie Dust. Not the biggest fan of Hop Czar.

  4. July 29th, 2011 / 11:04 pm DeWitt Brinson—

      There needs to be more love poetry.

      I feel like poets don’t write about sweet things anymore because thy’re worried about being too sentimental. Does anybody else feel that way? Or am I missing out on some tight love piety somewhere?

      Also, Matthew reminded me that the first time I met JA was in nola. We met at the sex toy shop because it was the easiest place to give directions to. The clerk inside had long noble ears like the Buddha. JA told him a story about stopping a guy trying to rob his house with a purple, giant and sparkling dildo dong. My favorite part was when JA winked at him and said, “Then I looked him right in his wet eyes and said, ‘I used to fuck guys like you in prison.'” Just like in Roadhouse.

      I like JA Tyler, because–whether a brothel or bar–he’d make an excellent cooler.

  5. July 30th, 2011 / 3:24 am alex crowley—

      oh sweet, THOU on the giant!

  6. July 30th, 2011 / 7:05 am Matthew Simmons—

      Fair enough. I just want you to be happy.

  7. July 30th, 2011 / 7:08 am Matthew Simmons—

      We’ve been sleeping on Thou. Damn, Summit is a helluva record.

  8. July 30th, 2011 / 9:41 am dubya—

      ugh, wasn’t there a discussion on titles like this recently? What does it even mean?

  9. July 30th, 2011 / 9:06 pm Werdfert—

      poets are writing about love, but they are writing it badly. they are whispering it simperingly and taking it seriously. they are not saying any new things about love but how it is a flower or a river or the sky or an alien. “my love for you is a/ great big green, slightly greenish,/ closer to yellow alien with many/ arms, so many arms/ some of them in inappropriate places,” the poems that exist about love say.

  10. July 30th, 2011 / 9:43 pm DeWitt Brinson—

      I wholeheartedly agree with you, but you’re wrong. Love is a flower. That’s the only way to say it.

      Love is a flower and you can buy it at Target.

      Walmart also sells love but it’s not as pretty.

      On certain weekends, love is for sale tax-free.

      Love is amazingly affordable and if it’s not working, you can call an 800 number. Someone in India will help you with your love.

  11. July 30th, 2011 / 10:29 pm Werdfert—

       oh, right. that was a typo. the poems that exist about love are how it is like flour.

      love is a flour that is inedible to those intolerant to gluten
      love is sifted and combined with other ingredients to make a cake or cookies
      love is a dough that you wet your hands first so as not to get on your hands

  12. July 30th, 2011 / 11:39 pm DeWitt Brinson—

      I must agree.

      Love is getting your fingers wet.

  13. July 30th, 2011 / 11:55 pm greenie—

      I agree. No matter how strong the book, its quality is diminished when the title reads, “I am a clever poet these are poems by a clever poet.” Just be clever. Then name the thing.

  14. July 31st, 2011 / 12:01 am Benjamin Grislic—

      You made me happy by posting this.

  15. July 31st, 2011 / 12:20 am Werdfert—

      alternative titles: Cupped Hands in a Cup,  Kicking Your Neighbor in the Eyeballs, Love is  a Flour-Coated Flower

  16. July 31st, 2011 / 1:50 am deadgod—

      what does what does it even mean even mean

  17. July 31st, 2011 / 2:24 am mimi—

      OK, I am going to tell you all a True story, and then I am going to get off this damn internet and go have a nice stiff drink.

      I once worked for an import/distribution company, in the office, doing customer service. We had a form called the “Where’s My Order?” form, that we would fill out and send through the appropriate channels when an account called and asked “Where’s My Order?” Well, sometimes (~often~) we would lose those “Where’s My Order?” forms. So I came up with the idea, which I mentioned at a typical irregularly scheduled office meeting, that we come up with a “Where’s My “Where’s My Order Form?” form.

      (Oh, also, when I worked there, I “inherited” the desk – a Very Messy desk – of a previous employer who didn’t clean up/off/out her desk at all before she left. One day (some time later, actually) I found a book on this desk entitled “File Don’t Pile”. I showed it to a co-worker, we had a good laugh (she was familiar with my messy desk, with the whole office mess, actually). She said “Where did you find That? ” and I said (pah-dum) “In a pile.”)

  18. July 31st, 2011 / 2:26 am mimi—

      Lose that final parenthesis.
      Thanks.