The Lit Pub is up and running. Like a crackling yarn crane of goodness. Fly! Fly! Check out this exciting project. It will make you want to consolidate a garden of stars. It’s got Molly Gaudry. She kicks ass. It’s got Chris Newgent. He kicks ass. You know it’s going to be glow. These people mean bizness! I mean to say: buy some books, people. One of the best way to support this whole scene is to buy some freaking books.
But what exactly is Lit Pub?
Good question. So. HTML GIANT does an interview here:
I’m all serious and presidential and shit and gonna drink this beer all presidential going to drink this beer all presidential and Michelle be drinking this beer and working out later on the treadmill and everyone shut the fuck up while I down this wonderful beer in this authentic for once Irish pub. [Damn, I do love Guinness. Good choice, sir. And you look better than some:]
[I hate people who drink through their foreheads. I knew this one young lady drank whiskey through her feet, the soles. I had a sister tried to drink gin through that little cabinet above the refrigerator. Dusty bottle of cabinet gin. Never works. So I removed that gin and hurried away. In the mouth! In the mouth, Nixon.]
When questioned about intravenous injection of alcohol, he said that he had been using this method for 10 years until 1 year before admission. He injected mainly vodka with a frequency of four times per week. His main reasons for injecting were the rapid effect and enjoyment of the needle, particularly when heroin was not available. He described the only side-effect as redness and a burning pain at the site of injection.
Oh, fuck Twitter.
Have you checked out ChickLitz? Literary blog, yo. Go.
Oh, glow Amy Schreibman Walter. She wrote this poem that is sort of/kind of a Dorothy Parker mashup. Made me all worm-riddled with happy. Me like. Read it at elimae.
Pissed off I am. So I channeled that into my visual art. This image below is a piece of art work. I used a technical piece of optical equipment, a device called an iPhone. I pressed something called the camera icon button. VEry technical stuff. I used a technique called juxtaposition, like when you see a beautiful woman but she is driving a blue scooter on the highway shoulder and she runs over a crow eating French fries. The the sun cries. I call this print MY FUCKING TREADMILL LIFT MOTOR EXPLODED AGAIN BUT AT LEAST I AM IN THIS BADASS BOOK OF FLASH FICTION AUTHORS.
So, the bad news is I had to run outside in the mid-80s temperatures, full sunlight, did a little Fartlek X 20 bursts, a 5 miles deal of sweat and red knees and legs rubbery like a window sealant when I was 12. Etc. There is a difference between running on a treadmill and running outside (wind resistance, foot push-off), so I always elevate the grade on my treadmill when training. I’m giving you a tip here. Go at least 1 %. I yawned a bit after the workout, a signifier of a good run.
So the bad news is I need another fucking lift motor and this IS MY FOURTH LIFT MOTOR!!
Helloooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. I dropped some pretty serious $$$$$$ bread, bullion, mazumah, cabbage, chicken feed, coin, coinage, dinero, dough, funds, bucks, green stuff, legal tender, skins, ready assets, refund, riches, , wampum, wherewithal on this treadmill, I mean this is no Sears bullshit, etc., this not yo mamma’s treadmill, this is like the treadmill bought for clubs, for health clubs (Think about the difference. A home treadmill is for hanging your underwear on. A club treadmill has a bear engine, for people to run on 24 hours, to stagger all over, etc.) and sure it’s been years I have owned the thing, and everything falls apart, we are all falling apart, oh my, oh my, but FOUR lift motors?
Already reviewed here.
Already on the Small Press Distribution Best Seller list!
Buy it, people.
I just played a metric ton of disc golf in Peoria. Don’t even flutter that link unless you love the game, unless you know its perfect fits and dark carpets of joy.
I write some more Velveeta over at Robert Lopez. Cheese. I intend to write only about Velveeta until 2012.
New Hobart has a Julia Wertz interview. Who is Julia Wertz? I didn’t know. I don’t even like these type of comic things. OK, I’m warming up a little, but really, I’ve read two graphic novels. So. Started reading and surfing and checking out her Web Comic blog thing. I like it. I like her stuff. Might get her book.
Here’s a sample. Funny. And that’s not an offhanded comment. Tough to be funny. It shows intelligence, perception, and understanding of narrative structure. So, hey, respect.
The only annoying thing is her disclaimer, something like EVENTS NOT RELATED TO MY CURRENT LIFE…etc. Why would she put a disclaimer next to her creative work? Like the readers are idiots. Or she is too sensitive? Maybe some things happened and she wants the Internet freaks to LEAVE HER ALONE. I get that. Internet freaks are the worst. I have stopped reading COMMENTs on news articles or at Youtube because they make me depressed about humanity. So maybe she ran into someone so concrete they think her graphic artwork is somewhere they could go find a drink? And why would anyone care if her comics are/are not about her actual current life? I don’t get that one. Maybe this is the world we live in. Even if it is autobiographical, you have to tell a reader that your life has changed, that you have changed, that you are capturing a period of time? That makes me sad. I mean it’s a cartoon, right? A cartoon needs a disclaimer? But I digress.
Saying all that, I think I’ll buy the book.
The Atlantic has a glow series examining the creative process of many artists, from T.C. Boyle to Chuck Close to Tim Burton to Frank Gehry to all types of designers, chefs, directors, writers, seers of artistic visions. It’s interesting how these “geniuses” work, their processes so different and then often the same. Grinding it out, for example:
With me, if it’s a good idea and I don’t have it right, I stay with it. You have to be patient, just keep erasing what you don’t like. At a certain point it becomes alive, and you know the problems are solvable with solutions you may have used before. That’s my songwriting process.
The system seems totally mechanical and so systematized, but in fact the thing about limitations like these is that they free you to be more spontaneous and intuitive. The painting is always in a state of flux. It’s a process well–suited to me, because I’m a nervous wreck. I’m a slob. I have a short attention span.
Here is a photo of Brian Oliu eating nachos. He has a book out! Get this book! You know Brian has a name no one can pronounce and he likes satiny 1980s jackets and 1980s video games and this book is made of lyrical essays composed as Craig’s List missed connections so hell yes.
One time I was in Alabama at this diner and Brian showed up and I said, “Brian, eat a fried pickle.” And he said, “OK.” And he ate a fried pickle. True story.
You do know about Bat Segundo show, right? Best radio author interviews around. Check them out.
Correspondent:It’s an unsuccessful story. Should history really be in the business of remembering the losers?
Hochschild: Well, first of all, for me, as a writer, it was a challenge to see if I could write a narratively interesting and emotionally meaningful story about a movement that failed. My last book was about the anti-slavery movement in the British Empire. That was a successful movement. Slavery did come to an end. These people failed to stop the First World War. But I still find them very, very much writing about. Because it takes a special kind of courage and nobility to go against patriotic madness that’s in the air. And very often, a movement like this, it doesn’t succeed the first time. We still haven’t stopped war today. We’re caught up in at least two necessary wars, in my view, in the United States right now. I would like to see people who opposed those wars take some inspiration from these earlier folks. Even though they failed.
A lot of buzz for Lidia Yuknavitch’s new memoir, The Chronology of Water. I really enjoyed this review by Amy McDaniel, mostly because McDaniel wades into the novel/memoir civil war. Good mind, good words, Amy.
Meat-can indeed, sir. It’s about time everyone understand Matt Bell is a meat-can of badass. Thanks for this flash, Matt.