Me in Interfictions: A Journal of Interstitial Arts

So I had a good week. First I had a baby, a beautiful, perfect little boy (I guess technically my wife had the baby and I watched on in terror and awe). But that’s none of your business—I’m keeping him to myself—you wish you’d meet him—if you were to meet him, you’d create a competition called World’s Best Baby Ever, and you would immediately announce him the winner. But you won’t be meeting him—until he goes out into the world on his own, when he will be the ruler of the free world.

I won’t share my son with you, but I will share that I had a story published in the latest issue of Interfictions: AJournal of Interstitial Arts. True, my story “The Etiquette” has a baby sacrifice, but it was written before my actual baby, so I wasn’t working out any issues (any more than I ever am).

Aside from whatever it was I did, the issue has some excellent work by excellent writers done excellently.

There’s poetry:
Sridala Swami's "AI Winter"
Sonya Taaffe's "Double Business"
Mary Alexandra Agner's "Hypothesis Between Your Ribs"

There’s fiction:

Richard Butner’s “Circa”
Su-Yee Lin’s “What is Lost”
Kat Howard’s “To Hold the Mirror”
Tade Thompson’s “The Madwoman of Igbobi Hospital”

There’s nonfiction:
Mark Craddock's "Aerial Acrobatics and Gender Reassignment Surgery - A How-To Guide"
Inda Lauryn's "Parallels and Transitions"
Isabel Yap's "Life Is Not a Shoujo Manga"

Plus a great interview with Jeff VanderMeer and Jeremy Zerfoss, about Wonderbook.

So go read that.

One son and one story. It’s been a good week for expanding my brand.

AWP Ready (Seattle Edition)

 

I am ready for my AWP experience in Seattle. I have everything I need:

√A leather bound notebook so that I can write while other people are just talking about writing. And be seen writing which is even better.

√A laptop to sit in the free Wi-Fi lobby and blog about the conference. The lobby's good because people will see me writing.

√A smart phone so that I can multitask during small talk. I might even be writing.

√A pair of Google Glass so that I can judge the writers in the room in real time.

 

√An odd hairstyle so people will look at me.

√An odd shirt or T-shirt with an odd phrase like "Pushcartoplyses" so that when people are staring straight ahead they'll look at me.

√An odd pair of shoes so that when people are looking down and don’t see my hair or shirt they will notice my shoes and look at me.

√Pre-prepared questions/comments (mostly comments, long, long comments, a speech really) that are so good they will prove that I am smarter than the people on the panel and that I should have been up there in the first place.

√A limber neck so that I can scan the Bookfair as I talk to someone in case there is someone more important I should be talking to.

√Nonalcoholic whiskey to use for shots with other writers who are using actual whiskey so that I can drink them under the table and thus prove I am a better writer.

√My card that includes an ad for my AWP erotic thriller just up on Amazon.

√A rain jacket.

Bring on all the writers and writing programs that are associated.

Me in Thumbnail Magazine

So my piece "14 Ways to Save According to Somebody on the Internet" is ironically not on the Internet but in the latest print issue of Thumbnail Magazine, which you should buy here. Buy it for all these fine reasons:

In Thumbnail Magazine's fifth annual collection of quality flash fiction, Ben Tanzer and the team from This Blog Will Change Your Life take charge. New stories are complemented by street art collected by Adam Lawrence and musical selections by Jason Behrends, with stories by Lauryn Allison, David S. Atkinson, Lauren Becker, Ryan W. Bradley, Spencer Dew, Jason Fisk, Jessi Lee Gaylord, James Grinwis, Rachel Hyman, Kyle Hemmings, Joseph G. Peterson, S. Craig Renfroe, Megan Stielstra, David Tomaloff, and Cyn Vargas. This collection also includes Morgana McLeod’s “Cotton Candy Miracles,” 2013 winner of Thumbnail’s No-Fee Flash Fiction Competition, judged by Sean Lovelace.

 

 

Ulysses in 18 Cartoons

Not having a midlife crisis? Not wanting to read a book that almost demands reading other books? Have approximately ten minutes?

Go here for 18 animated cartoons that sum the whole thing up.

Books I've Bought Because of Ulysses

So my midlife crisis is taking the form of reading James Joyce’s Ulysses, which is an excellent excuse to buy more books.

1. As I’ve already pointed out, picking an edition of Ulysses is hard. And so I ended up buying the Modern Library version for my reader’s copy.

2. I know this person here would argue that you should just go it alone to get the true enjoyment out of the Ulysses, but I’ve tried that before. Granted this time has been easier (do I just remember stuff from the before?). Let’s face it, I’m academic at heart. I like reading annotations. So I bought Gifford’s Ulysses Annotated. And for good measure I got The New Bloomsday Book by Harry Blamires (3^rd edition).  

3. I happened to find cheap copies of Chester G. Anderson’s James Joyce and His World and Edna O’Brien’s James Joyce.

4. For good measure, I bought a three volume set of James Joyce’s letters. I found a first edition set on eBay. I wanted the three volume one so I got both Stuart Gilbert and Richard Ellmann edited letters. My friend Mel Clayton turned me on to collecting writer’s letter collections. There’s something comforting glancing through and seeing Joyce complain about money and how the writing’s going. And, of course, the dirty letters.

5. I’ll write later about all the collector’s copies I had already acquired, am acquiring, and would like to acquire.

Ulysses has already given me so much—mainly a reason to get more books. The only thing better than reading is book collecting.

A Ulysses Podcast

I've started Frank Delaney's Re: Joyce a podcast where he says: "I mean to go through it sentence by sentence if I have to, in order to convey the full brilliance of this novel - and the enjoyment to be had from it - I'll be podcasting for some time to come!"

The only problem is that he's not done and won't be for years. Maybe I should slow down my reading. A sentence a day. A word. A letter.

Just read the letter "L"--I'm done for the day.

Choosing an Edition of Ulysses

As you may or may not know, I'm having a midlife crisis and therefore reading James Joyce's Ulysses. First I had to pick the right version. Here's a better post about this subject than I'll be able to do. After reading about the editions I thought I was set for the Gabler, and then at the last minute, confounded by the controversy (and frankly disturbed by the aesthetic of the Gabler), I chose the Modern Library version. So take that Gabler! Go fuck yourself. Yeah.

Actually I picked the ML because the above said it lies open flat. It does (see picture). Nice.

Also, I'm not on that page. I'm on page 5. My plan is to read it slowly. Like four pages a day slow. So that I started it on my 40th birthday and I'll finish on Bloomsday in June.

Please Join Me as I Have a Midlife Crisis and Read James Joyce’s Ulysses

I just turned 40 today, and, therefore, I am contractually obligated to have a midlife crisis and ergo must do something crazy. I’ve been surveying my options. I could buy a sports car, but I don’t care anything or know anything about cars. I could have an affair, but my wife might not like that. I could jump out of a plane, but I’m afraid of heights and flying—mostly I’m afraid of dying which has necessitated this midlife crisis in the first place.

So I’m reading James Joyce’s Ulysses. Reasons why:

--I’m a writer and pretend to know stuff about literature.
--I’ve been to Dublin a few times.
--I’m not going to climb Everest.
--It was published on Joyce’s 40th birthday.

I don’t believe in bucket lists (or YOLOing). That’s a fundamental misunderstanding of life, as if it were just a checklist of experiences to collect (GOTTA CATCH ‘EM ALL!). Life’s a random barrage of sensation barely comprehended, and it’s better to cultivate a savoring enjoyment of all the small pleasures that happen your way. But, that said, you got to do something before you hit the grave, so for me it might as well be reading this Modernist masterpiece.

Though, I have tried to read Ulysses before and failed. So check back to watch me quite possibly fail again, miserably. Or quietly. Or just skip it and watch The Walking Dead.

Have you bought The Night of the Comet yet?

You should because it is amazing. And it is about comets.* The Night of the Comet is by George Bishop. Full disclosure we went to grad school together, so I might be biased.

But here are some reviews that are not biased:

"It's the summer of '73, and the Kohoutek comet is hurtling toward Earth. The media hypes doomsday, while in a dull Louisiana backwater an obsessed science teacher becomes unraveled by his passion for the approaching mass of ice and gas. Told through the eyes of his 14-year-old son, himself tortured by passion for a new girl in town, this lyrical family saga twinkles with bittersweet humanity. As the comet becomes a laughingstock, Bishop (Letter to My Daughter) does a heavenly job telescoping the heady promise of youth tinged with the sorrow of lost dreams."—People

“Coming-of-age novels examine youthful revelations about the world—filled with cynicism and wonder and rearranged expectations—and the quality hinges on the honesty of the voice, the truth of the observations, the handling of innocence lost; Bishop succeeds on all these fronts.”—Kirkus Reviews

“Resonant . . . explores the complexities of a father-son relationship through science, astronomy, and the growing pains of adolescence. . . . Bishop’s characterizations of young Alan’s mother, father, and sister Megan are endearing and their relentless coddling of their maturing son is wincingly accurate.”—Publishers Weekly

This is Bishop’s (see how I’m using his last name as if I’m a journalist—you can trust me) second novel. His first book Letter to My Daughter resulted in my favorite Amazon review of all time:

“this book impacted my daughter's life.

just like in the book, my daughter, then 16, ran away. she escaped out the window and stole my car. i barged into her room and there wasn't a note or a clue..just this book placed on her pillow. i IMMEDIATELY knew what had happened. once it was all said and done, she enjoyed the book...even i enjoyed the book. i suppose it was her way of trying to tell me something. now, it's two years later and my daughter is 18 and in college and doing very positive things. while i'm usually not one to say music or movies influence kids, i have to say that this book did and perhaps, it wasn't a bad thing. “**

That’s right Bishop writes so powerfully you will lose all self-control. Comets be warned. You’ll stay out all night if you read this one.

Bishop also starred in the movie Teen Vamp. And more important wrote about his experiences in this article for The Oxford American. (I plagiarized this from Wendy Brenner).

So in conclusion, buy The Night of the Comet. And Letter to My Daughter. And find a copy of Teen Vamp.

*It is not “about” comets.
**This person gave the book two stars. Also this person is silly. 

Me on McSweeney's Internet Tendency IV

My piece "How to Tell If Your Dog Is a Fatalist" is up at McSweeney's Internet Tendency. Last time, it was Netflix causing the apocalypse. This time it's an important public service how-to on how to tell if your dog is a fatalist. It explains fatalism. And dogs. Also, there is a penis joke.

Me in REAL: Regarding Arts & Letters

I’ve been behind on my bragging. So my story “Divulge Nothing Save the Terror of Being” is in the current issue of REAL: Regarding Arts & Letters that’s been out for months now. It’s a great issue full of splendid stuff, including an interview with Stewart O’Nan. My story has a brief philosophical discussion of indecision. Also, there’s a house fire.

AWP Ready (Boston Edition)

I am ready for my AWP experience in Boston. I have everything I need:

√A leather bound notebook so that I can write while other people are just talking about writing. And be seen writing which is even better.

√A laptop to sit in the free Wi-Fi lobby and blog about the conference. The lobby's good because people will see me writing.

√A smart phone so that I can multitask during small talk. I might even be writing.

√An odd hat so people will look at me.

√An odd shirt or T-shirt with an odd phrase like "Pushcartoplyses" so that when people are staring straight ahead they'll look at me.

√An odd pair of shoes so that when people are looking down and don’t see my hat or shirt they will notice my shoes and look at me.

√Pre-prepared questions/comments (mostly comments, long, long comments, a speech really) that are so good they will prove that I am smarter than the people on the panel and that I should have been up there in the first place.

√A limber neck so that I can scan the Bookfair as I talk to someone in case there is someone more important I should be talking to.

√Nonalcoholic whiskey to use for shots with other writers who are using actual whiskey so that I can drink them under the table and thus prove I am a better writer.

√My wife--step one in entourage creation.

√Some red socks--I hear that's big up there.

Bring on the associated writers and writing programs.

Rereading Moby-Dick: A Quote

"...great people generally, were in the custom of fattening some of the lower orders for ottomans; and to furnish a house comfortably in that respect, you had only to buy up eight or ten lazy fellows, and lay them round in the piers and alcoves." Moby-Dick Ch. 21.

Rereading Moby-Dick: Chapters II-VII or Are We On the Boat Yet?

So are we on the boat yet? No. Not even close. Which means we’re miles (leagues?) from that white whale.

Back in grad school I had a great screen writing professor who would constantly yell, “When telling the story of Goldilocks, bring on the bears!” He was wrong. Well, he was right but also wrong. What he probably meant was get to the point, get to the action, quit navel-gazing at how sensitive a writer you are and how girls just don’t get that…hypothetically that’s what he meant. But that’s also horrible advice. What kind of shitty story would Goldilocks be if she just walked into the house and the bears immediately burst in and said, “Hey, get out of my house”? Those precious moments when Goldilocks is wandering around eating their porridge and breaking their chairs and snuggling their beds is the sweet spot--it’s glorious anticipation. Because as a reader, you know she’s going to get it. And your anticipation of what’s going to happen next is invariably better than whatever happens next.

In these chapters of Moby-Dick, we get, not just Ishmael trying out all the bear options of the whaling towns from the inns and the streets and the chapel, where we get his comic view of life, one that will be hard pressed on the Pequod, but we also meet Queequeg. Queequeq!

Rereading Moby-Dick: Chapter 1 LOOMINGS

This:

“Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off -- then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can.”

How can there be a better sentence? Who doesn’t want to methodically knock people’s hats off? And that involuntary pause before coffin warehouses! That’s got to be one of my favorite sentences in the English language. That is right up there with some Joycean faintly snowfall and Cormac McCarthian horrible legions.

Enough of that, let’s talk hyphens! Is it Moby-Dick or Moby Dick? According to this, the novel is Moby-Dick with the hyphen, and the whale inside the novel is Moby Dick, no hyphen. The title was a marketing addition to the original title The Whale. So now you know. Don't knock anyone's hat off.

Rereading Moby-Dick: The Beginning

So I have started Moby-Dick. But first I had to get through Elizabeth Hardwick’s introduction, which thankfully was short. Short but strangely summative. Why summarize a story most are familiar with even if incorrectly (Ahab chases a white whale…whale’s probably God). I do admire some of her ascertains like for example that it is “the greatest novel in American literature,” but how can you measure or defend such a thing? I’m at age where I’m beyond wanting to fistfight people over their impoverished taste in books, music, and film—well almost at that age. Why even bother measuring at all? I prefer more Rockwell Kent’s illustrations.

 

Also the intro and the biographical sketch barely give a sense of Melville’s artistic despair. Here’s a man that told Hawthorne that he had "pretty much made up his mind to be annihilated.”

 

And don’t get me started on Hawthorne! That prick. I’m not one for judging people’s art based on their personalities or morality (because if you do that you should just burn everything), but Hawthorne is a shit and so is his work, and I’ll fistfight anyone who says otherwise. Here’s Hawthorne’s observation on seeing the starving Irish flood through Liverpool: they were “as numerous as maggots in cheese.” Here’s Melville’s view: “endless vistas of want and woe staggering arm in arm along these miserable streets.”

 

But still Melville was friends with & in awe of Hawthorne. Even dedicating his masterpiece to him: “In Token of My Admiration for His Genius This Book Is Inscribed to Nathaniel Hawthorne.”

 

Anyway, where was I? The beginning. Which as we all know is not “Call me Ishmael.” That’s the first line. But to get to that first line you have to go through the too often skipped etymology and extracts. There are some great selected whale quotes in the extracts. Like the non-sequitur-ish “Very like a whale” from Hamlet. Or a nice description of whale breath from Ulloa’s South America: “and the breath of the whale is frequently attended with such an insupportable smell, as to bring on a disorder of the brain.” But the bit I love best about the Extracts is the character he ascribes their selection to: “Supplied by a Sub-sub-librarian.” And as with the Irish, Melville elevates the lowly, imagining a special place in heaven for such thankless workers.

 

This is to say nothing of the Etymology. I was so taken with it as an undergrad that I wrote a concrete poem. That’s right, a concrete poem. Are you familiar with concrete poetry or shape poetry? It’s poetry that looks like stuff. Like a butterfly or wings. Can you guess what mine was in the shape of? There it is over there. It’s a whale!

Rereading Moby-Dick: Day 1

So I'm rereading (or should it be rererereading?) Moby-Dick: Or, The Whale. I read it--though I suspect abridged--in some honors English course in high school, once in undergrad, and once in grad school. Since then it's just been grazing on my favorite bites like the first page where Ishmael talks about the violent itch that sends him to sea and, of course, The Whiteness of the Whale chapter. And recommending it obnoxiously to people and equally obnoxiously defending it.

Here's a picture of the copy I'm reading, though Lord knows I have a ridiculous amount of editions(more later). That's a real whale on the cover, which kind of bugs me. The way seeing a young girl on the cover of Lolita bugs me. Literal-mindedness. I put the ISBN into Goodreads to do the currently reading deal and the new edition has an artistic rendering, so that's something.

To the whale.

Me in Puerto del Sol

So my short story "Curse of the Mummy" is in the current issue of Puerto del Sol (47:2). The story is not about a mummy. It is about a girl who is into mummification. So sort of a mummy. And Amway.

This Puerto del Sol also has a great section on utopias.

I'm thrilled to be in an issue with writers I admire, like Michael Kimball and Peter Trachtenberg. And even Kim Stanley Robinson!

Me in PANK

So I’m excited to be in the special Pulp Issue of PANK magazine. The issue is edited by the amazing Court Merrigan. My contribution “Parricide” is the longest story I’ve ever published online—so there’s that. Plus it has a broken plastic Adirondack chair in it.

 

The issue also includes:

When I Make Love to the Bug Man by Laura Benedict

The Sea of Intranquility by Stephen Graham Jones

Ghost Pianos & Idle Hands by David James Keaton

Ollie by Tyler Sage

my wife & william by David Romanda

The Hunt by Dominica Phetteplace

The Big Nap by Alex Mattingly

Seven Poems by Norman Savage

The Son of Dajjal by Ali Eteraz

The Little Death by Keisha Lynne Ellis

Scrapped by Patti Abbott

 

Enjoy them all.

Me Interviewed at The Bacon Review

The folks at The Bacon Review, who previously published my story "On Bondage," were kind enough to interview me. Read it to see just how tedious I can be.