His arm had gone and burned up and all that he had left was char-enrobed bones. For all the world like a freshly barbecued rib, it hung from his shoulder still smouldering and smelling of well-done meat. With the most enormous of difficulties, he could swing the thing, but he could not bend it at the elbow. Could not clench or fan the spider-leg fingers. Could not swivel the gristle and ashbone wrist. He could only swing it.
He liked to tease the dog.
Heat was buried hidden in the marrow. Sometimes it caught, it sparked, it flared. A little air was all it took. A little wind through a patch, a chipped-away patch of ashbone armoring. And then some smoke, it coughed out, twirled together, flowed over the scorched meat, and blew out and off from the shoulder.
TO BE CONTINUED...
(After reading EVER by Blake Butler, I decided to write a suitor for the narrator.)
***
CAVES by Matthew Simmons.
A review of CAVES by Matt Bell. Thanks, Matt!
Kendra Malone published a gchat with me to celebrate CAVES. Thanks, Kendra!
***
***
UPDATES:
Oh, sure. Twitter.
Also, Matthew Savoca's book TOUGH! is almost finished at the almost finished Happy Cobra Books website. Just needs a couple of images added and a page for the credits.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Awp
Man who can't blog (or whatever your name is), did you go to AWP? And if so, what was it like??
No, I didn't go to AWP. I was home. But I think, even though I was not there, I can tell you exactly what it was like.
It was like this.
For some reason, all these writers spontaneously decided they needed to go to Chicago for some reason. Some flew. Some used the train. Some took buses. Three (an only three) drove cars. Many hitched rides by using their belts to attach themselves to the underside of delivery trucks.
And when all these writers got to Chicago, all these writers decided to check into the Hilton.
That's when someone spiked the drinking water. That's when the whiskey bottles—each of which had been secreted on the person of each of the writers—came out. That's when the laughing gas canisters were attached to the air vents.
That's when all hell broke loose.
When writers attack a city, they begin with the libraries. They grab all the fiction from the shelves and they put it in more prominent spots. They find all the electronics stores, and they break the windows—the ones that have TVs in them—and they tape books to the screens. (They use duct tape.)
They steal all the newspapers from the newspaper vending machines, and they take out black markers, and they cross out most of the words, and they leave the words to poems by John Ashbery and Albert Goldbarth and James Longenbach.
They go into all the bars in the city, and they drink every ounce of liquor and beer and wine the city has to offer. (Seriously. All of it. You couldn't get a beer in Chicago to save your life this week. The bars are all closed. The convenience stores are selling only beef jerky. The alcoholics are all in withdrawal. They are walking back and forth in front of the bars, waiting for the doors to open.
After the drunken writers finished vandalizing the city that welcomed them, they all went back to the Hilton, and they all took naps. Together. In groups of two and three and four. And no one cheated on their spouses or significant others. Writers don't do that. They prefer to cuddle up to each other. No sex was had between two writers in the city of Chicago. Everything was totally on the up and up. There was just a lot of cuddling.
Also, there was dancing. Lousy, lousy, lousy dancing.
And then everyone went home.
That's what AWP was like.
***
Today's new Pandora station: The Swell Maps.
The Swell Maps, The Helicopter Spies
Josef K, Endless Soul
The Modern Lovers, She Cracked
Dinosaur Jr., I Live for that Look
The Swell Maps, Bridge Head (Part 9)
Glenn Branca, Ascension
Donner Party, Blue Starch Acid for Baby's New Tooth
My Bloody Valentine, Paint a Rainbow
Sonic Youth, Destroyer (Live 2-1-81)
The Sex Pistols, Pretty Vacant
***
Another year, another 5k run for breast cancer research. give if you can. Even just a dollar.
***
.
This is a band called Barbagallo. They are playing Erik Satie pieces.
***
UPDATE:
Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen
Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen
Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen
Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen
No, I didn't go to AWP. I was home. But I think, even though I was not there, I can tell you exactly what it was like.
It was like this.
For some reason, all these writers spontaneously decided they needed to go to Chicago for some reason. Some flew. Some used the train. Some took buses. Three (an only three) drove cars. Many hitched rides by using their belts to attach themselves to the underside of delivery trucks.
And when all these writers got to Chicago, all these writers decided to check into the Hilton.
That's when someone spiked the drinking water. That's when the whiskey bottles—each of which had been secreted on the person of each of the writers—came out. That's when the laughing gas canisters were attached to the air vents.
That's when all hell broke loose.
When writers attack a city, they begin with the libraries. They grab all the fiction from the shelves and they put it in more prominent spots. They find all the electronics stores, and they break the windows—the ones that have TVs in them—and they tape books to the screens. (They use duct tape.)
They steal all the newspapers from the newspaper vending machines, and they take out black markers, and they cross out most of the words, and they leave the words to poems by John Ashbery and Albert Goldbarth and James Longenbach.
They go into all the bars in the city, and they drink every ounce of liquor and beer and wine the city has to offer. (Seriously. All of it. You couldn't get a beer in Chicago to save your life this week. The bars are all closed. The convenience stores are selling only beef jerky. The alcoholics are all in withdrawal. They are walking back and forth in front of the bars, waiting for the doors to open.
After the drunken writers finished vandalizing the city that welcomed them, they all went back to the Hilton, and they all took naps. Together. In groups of two and three and four. And no one cheated on their spouses or significant others. Writers don't do that. They prefer to cuddle up to each other. No sex was had between two writers in the city of Chicago. Everything was totally on the up and up. There was just a lot of cuddling.
Also, there was dancing. Lousy, lousy, lousy dancing.
And then everyone went home.
That's what AWP was like.
***
Today's new Pandora station: The Swell Maps.
The Swell Maps, The Helicopter Spies
Josef K, Endless Soul
The Modern Lovers, She Cracked
Dinosaur Jr., I Live for that Look
The Swell Maps, Bridge Head (Part 9)
Glenn Branca, Ascension
Donner Party, Blue Starch Acid for Baby's New Tooth
My Bloody Valentine, Paint a Rainbow
Sonic Youth, Destroyer (Live 2-1-81)
The Sex Pistols, Pretty Vacant
***
Another year, another 5k run for breast cancer research. give if you can. Even just a dollar.
***
.
This is a band called Barbagallo. They are playing Erik Satie pieces.
***
UPDATE:
Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen
Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen
Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen
Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Wrestler
I would like to tell you on this blog a little about politics.
There's this guy who works at the White House.
(The White House is a house that is painted white and holds in it the President of America, who we all know is the Leader of the Free World and the most powerful man on all the planet.)
(America is a big country located in the upper middle part of the Western Hemisphere, and is the place where the people and their things are freer than all other people and things anywhere on the entire globe.)
(The globe is the planet and the planet is a big, round version of the ground, and it is hurtling very speedily through space.)
(Space is everything.)
This guy who works in the White House and is the person I was referring to before (but not the President, who I also, you may remember, referred to) has a very important and significant job. His job is one that keeps him on duty almost all the time, 24 hours a day almost, and seven days a week almost.
It's a very difficult and hard job.
His job is to wrestle with others who have the same (or a similar) job in other countries.
(Other countries have something sort of like a White House, but usually shaped different, and also often of a different color.)
(Blue, maybe. Or a nice green.)
(Other countries also have something like the President, but their "Presidents" will have a different name often, and they will also not be anywhere near as powerful as our president, who is as powerful as a person can be.)
(Other countries are places with their own special borders on other parts of the globe. They are almost 100% of the time on the ground and not in the water, except for Atlantis.)
(Some people deny that Atlantis exists as a country, and those people do not think that Atlantis—because it is not there or anywhere—even has a President or a White House colored a similar or different color.)
The man from earlier who wrestles for the President of America is the best of the country wrestlers in the whole wide world. This is why our President is such a powerful President. And why our country has so many of the freedoms that we all enjoy and take advantage of.
That is what I have to tell you about politics for now.
***
John Vanderslice reads from Letters to Wendys.
"One time I saw a guy with three Biggies at once. One wonders not about him, but about what holds us back."
***
This is my favorite song to jog to. After I get home, I like to have a cigarette and a beer.
Get By - Talib Kweli
(Actually, I quit smoking years ago.)
(Often I miss it.)
***
UPDATE:
Consider donating.
There's this guy who works at the White House.
(The White House is a house that is painted white and holds in it the President of America, who we all know is the Leader of the Free World and the most powerful man on all the planet.)
(America is a big country located in the upper middle part of the Western Hemisphere, and is the place where the people and their things are freer than all other people and things anywhere on the entire globe.)
(The globe is the planet and the planet is a big, round version of the ground, and it is hurtling very speedily through space.)
(Space is everything.)
This guy who works in the White House and is the person I was referring to before (but not the President, who I also, you may remember, referred to) has a very important and significant job. His job is one that keeps him on duty almost all the time, 24 hours a day almost, and seven days a week almost.
It's a very difficult and hard job.
His job is to wrestle with others who have the same (or a similar) job in other countries.
(Other countries have something sort of like a White House, but usually shaped different, and also often of a different color.)
(Blue, maybe. Or a nice green.)
(Other countries also have something like the President, but their "Presidents" will have a different name often, and they will also not be anywhere near as powerful as our president, who is as powerful as a person can be.)
(Other countries are places with their own special borders on other parts of the globe. They are almost 100% of the time on the ground and not in the water, except for Atlantis.)
(Some people deny that Atlantis exists as a country, and those people do not think that Atlantis—because it is not there or anywhere—even has a President or a White House colored a similar or different color.)
The man from earlier who wrestles for the President of America is the best of the country wrestlers in the whole wide world. This is why our President is such a powerful President. And why our country has so many of the freedoms that we all enjoy and take advantage of.
That is what I have to tell you about politics for now.
***
John Vanderslice reads from Letters to Wendys.
"One time I saw a guy with three Biggies at once. One wonders not about him, but about what holds us back."
***
This is my favorite song to jog to. After I get home, I like to have a cigarette and a beer.
Get By - Talib Kweli
(Actually, I quit smoking years ago.)
(Often I miss it.)
***
UPDATE:
Consider donating.
Monday, February 02, 2009
Tongue
I like to interview people. But I don't always get to use all my questions. Sometimes I have leftover questions.
I hate waste.
So here is an unused interview question. In order to not waste, I will ask it to me:
Hey, Mr. Who Couldn't Blog, I have a vacation coming up. Where do you think I should go ?
That's a great question. Have you considered visiting your own tongue? I have to tell you, a number of years ago, my partner (pictured here)and I decided we would go for a nice long vacation, and having never been there before, I suggested maybe we should go to my tongue?
Oh, it was great. We arrived early one morning at the tip of the tongue, got to our hotel (two and a half stars!), checked in, ate the mints on our pillows (there were TWO each!), and went out hiking.
We got a local guide, someone who really knew his way around my tongue. He brought us all around, showed us all the flora and the fauna and such. Showed us the parts that taste the sweet and the sour and all that. My partner (pictured here) and I learned a lot.
On night, after my partner (pictured here) had gone to sleep, I snuck out and took a walk on my tongue on my own. It was probably sort of a dangerous thing to do, to walk around on my own on my tongue, walk around at night with no guide, there in a foreign place. But I left all my money back in the hotel. And I left my shoes there, too. It was a lovely night, a little humid. Stars glowed in the firmament/roof of my mouth. I took a little rest in that long central seam on my tongue. Just leaned back into it and watched the stars spin over head.
Consider that next time you have some time to take some time away.
***
Google image search of the day: fissured tongue
***
I would like to do is call your attention to this really really good post on HTMLGiant by Justin Taylor. It's about George Saunders and is one of my favorite things ever to appear on the site.
Flannery O'Connor comes up in the essay, and here's a nice O'Connor review from BOOKFORUM.
***
You can buy Shane's book Light Boxes now. It's shipping.
Read a section of Light Boxes here.
***
Hot Wire My Heart - Crime
I hate waste.
So here is an unused interview question. In order to not waste, I will ask it to me:
Hey, Mr. Who Couldn't Blog, I have a vacation coming up. Where do you think I should go ?
That's a great question. Have you considered visiting your own tongue? I have to tell you, a number of years ago, my partner (pictured here)and I decided we would go for a nice long vacation, and having never been there before, I suggested maybe we should go to my tongue?
Oh, it was great. We arrived early one morning at the tip of the tongue, got to our hotel (two and a half stars!), checked in, ate the mints on our pillows (there were TWO each!), and went out hiking.
We got a local guide, someone who really knew his way around my tongue. He brought us all around, showed us all the flora and the fauna and such. Showed us the parts that taste the sweet and the sour and all that. My partner (pictured here) and I learned a lot.
On night, after my partner (pictured here) had gone to sleep, I snuck out and took a walk on my tongue on my own. It was probably sort of a dangerous thing to do, to walk around on my own on my tongue, walk around at night with no guide, there in a foreign place. But I left all my money back in the hotel. And I left my shoes there, too. It was a lovely night, a little humid. Stars glowed in the firmament/roof of my mouth. I took a little rest in that long central seam on my tongue. Just leaned back into it and watched the stars spin over head.
Consider that next time you have some time to take some time away.
***
Google image search of the day: fissured tongue
***
I would like to do is call your attention to this really really good post on HTMLGiant by Justin Taylor. It's about George Saunders and is one of my favorite things ever to appear on the site.
Flannery O'Connor comes up in the essay, and here's a nice O'Connor review from BOOKFORUM.
***
You can buy Shane's book Light Boxes now. It's shipping.
Read a section of Light Boxes here.
***
Hot Wire My Heart - Crime
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