Showing posts with label Tyler F. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tyler F. Show all posts
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
This Clumsy Living + The New Collagist + Bloomington + WUZZZZZ EMOTIONZ
I want to respond to This Clumsy Living by Bob Hicok, the last book I successfully read in my Spring Break challenge (OKAY I TOOK ME TWO DAYS). However, I'm not sparkling or gushing or HELLYEAHING to life in general. I'm saying: I'm not sure I could do my honest feelings to this book goodstuffjustice.
But before I forget, I wanna say a few quick okay things about the book. Several of these poems struck me as drier than normal Hicok or perhaps just clashing with my expectations and because of my mood/life right now, I couldn't deal with it. However, this book contains some real gems, like "In Michael Robin's Class Minus One" and "My New Neighbor." These poems (HEY HE READ THOSE ALOUD DID THAT INFLUENCE MY READING OF THEM?) strike with the looseness called humor shaken into deep emotions, wrapped up in imagination and language play that make me go YEAHYEAHICOK.
I think a better response would be this poem I wrote and edited once after seeing Hicok:
I expected Hicok as a floating head
perhaps trailed by a heart on a string
like a nice kite. I expected Hicok to shout
not the way my Uncles shout when someone
leans against their truck, their emotions
kicking out exhaust, spiraling out in exhaustion
from all the years of back up. No, I expected
the poet who helped teach me that you can be
funny and caring to be both funny and caring
in a room full of people who felt the same way.
Imagine my shock when he stepped to the podium
read a dozen poems, with hardly a comment,
with hardly a smile, with hardly a breath.
Instead one big sigh, instead forty minutes
of words bending like a mouth into its various
shapes. I scribbled in my notebook the questions
to ask in the Q&A, the stories to tell in the meet
and greet, but I came up with talking about myself,
how I yearn to study with him at his school. And he said
what you gonna do in your year off? I said, find a shitty job
that’ll make me want to get to you even faster. I said, Sorry
for being weird. He said, Don’t tell them that when you apply.
I felt my body sway side to side like a wave goodbye.
When I got into the car, I saw the book was signed
Good luck getting into a school. He was laughing,
he was smiling, he was feeling the whole time.
----------------
The new issue of The Collagist is up. I'm so stoked to read that excerpt from Blake Butler's new novel when I get a little more free time. ANOTHER STELLAR ISSUE.
Speaking of The Collagist, I have a new interview with Christian Anton Gerard up at the blog.
-----------------
TYLER FIELDS AND I TORE DOWN BLOOMINGTON I HOPE YOU DONT LIVE THERE IT IS TORN DOWN
But really, I was stoked to show him my favorite spots, introduce him to some of my Bloomington pals, and just be cool together.
Spots:
Caveat Emptor Bookstore (Little Star by Mark Halliday (YEAH I KNOW RIGHT?) and The New Year of Yellow by Matthew Lippman)
Boxcar Books (THE WAILINGCOOL SINGER/BASSIST FROM GOOD LUCK WAS WORKING THERE WUZZZ; Elegy by Larry Levis and Fire to Fire by Mark Doty)
TD's (didn't have the Sleeping Bag cassette like I wanted, but cooldude Jared Cheek was working)
Landlocked Music (No Singles by Japandroids)
Dat's
That crappy church disc golf course
Laughing Planet
Soma
People:
Super host and awesome pal Darrin
CoolCara
Kailee and a wacky adventure to a mountain bike course
Zack and Naughty Dog (Bloomington's finest hot dogs)
It was a pleasure, relief, reboot, comfort.
--------------------
Right now, I feel like someone stole all my discs, burned my books, and made me sit in a tree ALONE.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
WORDZ AT MY HEADWEEK
In addition to the sweet visit from Brian Oliu and the Alabama Undergradsthis week, I got to see Mark Halliday and Terrance Hayes read in Indy on Wednesday and Thursday respectively.
Here is a quick rundown of each, followed by one of my favorite poems by each poet:
Halliday: odd quirky personality, like mix of emotionally tender and cynical, style comes across so well during reading, went with Todd, Sara, Cody, and Tyler, Butler has a sweet reading series (HICOK STILL TO COME), got Jab, got Jab autographed, super fun.
Hayes: Really good reader, pace and tone, tried to be funny at times and came off as COME ON MAN, stopped in middle of a poem to explain something=lame, NATIONAL BOOK AWARD WINNER, poems seem deep like goodness, went with Ashley, Cody, Tyler, and DJ, ate at a 50's diner which was cool, U of Indy, Hayes wears two watches, bought Lighthead, got Lighthead signed, so did Tyler, our books look identical.
ODE: THE CAPRIS
by Mark Halliday
from Tasker Street
How do I feel about "There's a Moon Out Tonight"
by the Capris?
I thought you'd never ask
Marcia Koomen lived across Cherry Lane
getting tall, taller than me in fifth grade
and smiling behind her glasses, she knew something.
The summer nights in Raleigh were thick
with something bright in the dark; you could ride
bikes under the moon and in and out of
lampshine at the corner of Wade and Dogwood,
not caring about touching a girl, or, later,
not caring much still but happy to be a boy
who could some day "have" a girl, and be conscious of
a shivering beauty caught in the word girl
There's a girl at my side
that I adore
-the Capris knew something all together
and it called for this new verb, to adore;
something out there ahead of my bicycle in the dark;
I cared a loy about Paladin on "Have Gun - Will Travel"
but did I adore him? Scotty Koomen, years older,
got sort of pale and brittle when he went to visit
a certain girl in his class, he seemed to have trouble
breathing...
There's a glow in my heart
I never felt before
- not exactly in my heart yet but it was
what would be there if I rode just maybe deeper down
Dogwood Lane in the busy dark.
Across Dogwood lived Ann Dailey
who had freckles and an awesome kind of largeness,
not fat but big and this made my eyes feel hot and burny;
she moved slowly doing chores in her yard,
her long tanning thighs seemed sarcastic
as if she knew soon her freckled beauty must positively
carry her somehow out, out and away...And
Shelby Wilson one night kissed her on the lips.
I saw it happen - on the sofa in the basement -
her folks weren't home. Right on the lips!
Amazing lips are in your future, boy. That's
what the Capris were telling me; the North Carolinia moon
is natural and it can find you anywhere;
you have to let the moon paint you and your bike
and the picture of Elvis in your pocket
and it shines down on Marcia's hair
and on the thought of the green eyes of Ann Dailey.
Ride and wait, wait and watch;
you laugh, you shiver in the summer - cool - dark.
You speak of the Yankees and the Pirates but
cut a side glance at Marcia's tall shape
but when she says anything serious exasperate her
yelling Little Richard's wop bop alu bop
but this dodging, dodging will end -
somewhere -
the Capris being on Marcia's side.
Baby, I never felt this way before
I guess it's because there's a moon out tonight
and once that shining starts
no amount of irony will ever quite ride the Capris out of town.
I picture a deep pool with yellow flowers drifting
on the surface. The song pours up
out of that pool.
At Pegasus
by Terrance Hayes
from Muscular Music
They are like those crazy women
who tore Orpheus
when he refused to sing,
these men grinding
in the strobe & black lights
of Pegasus. All shadow & sound.
"I'm just here for the music,"
I tell the man who asks me
to the floor. But I have held
a boy on my back before.
Curtis & I used to leap
barefoot into the creek; dance
among maggots & piss,
beer bottles & tadpoles
slippery as sperm;
we used to pull off our shirts,
& slap music into our skin.
He wouldn't know me now
at the edge of these lovers' gyre,
glitter & steam, fire,
bodies blurred sexless
by the music's spinning light.
A young man slips his thumb
into the mouth of an old one,
& I am not that far away.
The whole scene raw & delicate
as Curtis's foot gashed
on a sunken bottle shard.
They press hip to hip,
each breathless as a boy
carrying a friend on his back.
The foot swelling green
as the sewage in that creek.
We never went back.
But I remember his weight
better than I remember
my first kiss.
These men know something
I used to know.
How could I not find them
beautiful, the way they dive & spill
into each other,
the way the dance floor
takes them,
wet & holy in its mouth.
Here is a quick rundown of each, followed by one of my favorite poems by each poet:
Halliday: odd quirky personality, like mix of emotionally tender and cynical, style comes across so well during reading, went with Todd, Sara, Cody, and Tyler, Butler has a sweet reading series (HICOK STILL TO COME), got Jab, got Jab autographed, super fun.
Hayes: Really good reader, pace and tone, tried to be funny at times and came off as COME ON MAN, stopped in middle of a poem to explain something=lame, NATIONAL BOOK AWARD WINNER, poems seem deep like goodness, went with Ashley, Cody, Tyler, and DJ, ate at a 50's diner which was cool, U of Indy, Hayes wears two watches, bought Lighthead, got Lighthead signed, so did Tyler, our books look identical.
ODE: THE CAPRIS
by Mark Halliday
from Tasker Street
How do I feel about "There's a Moon Out Tonight"
by the Capris?
I thought you'd never ask
Marcia Koomen lived across Cherry Lane
getting tall, taller than me in fifth grade
and smiling behind her glasses, she knew something.
The summer nights in Raleigh were thick
with something bright in the dark; you could ride
bikes under the moon and in and out of
lampshine at the corner of Wade and Dogwood,
not caring about touching a girl, or, later,
not caring much still but happy to be a boy
who could some day "have" a girl, and be conscious of
a shivering beauty caught in the word girl
There's a girl at my side
that I adore
-the Capris knew something all together
and it called for this new verb, to adore;
something out there ahead of my bicycle in the dark;
I cared a loy about Paladin on "Have Gun - Will Travel"
but did I adore him? Scotty Koomen, years older,
got sort of pale and brittle when he went to visit
a certain girl in his class, he seemed to have trouble
breathing...
There's a glow in my heart
I never felt before
- not exactly in my heart yet but it was
what would be there if I rode just maybe deeper down
Dogwood Lane in the busy dark.
Across Dogwood lived Ann Dailey
who had freckles and an awesome kind of largeness,
not fat but big and this made my eyes feel hot and burny;
she moved slowly doing chores in her yard,
her long tanning thighs seemed sarcastic
as if she knew soon her freckled beauty must positively
carry her somehow out, out and away...And
Shelby Wilson one night kissed her on the lips.
I saw it happen - on the sofa in the basement -
her folks weren't home. Right on the lips!
Amazing lips are in your future, boy. That's
what the Capris were telling me; the North Carolinia moon
is natural and it can find you anywhere;
you have to let the moon paint you and your bike
and the picture of Elvis in your pocket
and it shines down on Marcia's hair
and on the thought of the green eyes of Ann Dailey.
Ride and wait, wait and watch;
you laugh, you shiver in the summer - cool - dark.
You speak of the Yankees and the Pirates but
cut a side glance at Marcia's tall shape
but when she says anything serious exasperate her
yelling Little Richard's wop bop alu bop
but this dodging, dodging will end -
somewhere -
the Capris being on Marcia's side.
Baby, I never felt this way before
I guess it's because there's a moon out tonight
and once that shining starts
no amount of irony will ever quite ride the Capris out of town.
I picture a deep pool with yellow flowers drifting
on the surface. The song pours up
out of that pool.
At Pegasus
by Terrance Hayes
from Muscular Music
They are like those crazy women
who tore Orpheus
when he refused to sing,
these men grinding
in the strobe & black lights
of Pegasus. All shadow & sound.
"I'm just here for the music,"
I tell the man who asks me
to the floor. But I have held
a boy on my back before.
Curtis & I used to leap
barefoot into the creek; dance
among maggots & piss,
beer bottles & tadpoles
slippery as sperm;
we used to pull off our shirts,
& slap music into our skin.
He wouldn't know me now
at the edge of these lovers' gyre,
glitter & steam, fire,
bodies blurred sexless
by the music's spinning light.
A young man slips his thumb
into the mouth of an old one,
& I am not that far away.
The whole scene raw & delicate
as Curtis's foot gashed
on a sunken bottle shard.
They press hip to hip,
each breathless as a boy
carrying a friend on his back.
The foot swelling green
as the sewage in that creek.
We never went back.
But I remember his weight
better than I remember
my first kiss.
These men know something
I used to know.
How could I not find them
beautiful, the way they dive & spill
into each other,
the way the dance floor
takes them,
wet & holy in its mouth.
Friday, February 4, 2011
THIS ISN'T A BORING LETTER; THIS IS ABOUT BOOKS
My friends Ben and Tyler prompted me to make a list of my favorite books, so I did. Of course, I’ve probably left some out or included some that I’ll go back and be like WUZZZZZZZZZZZZ? With the poetry, these books are ones that I revisit often for inspiration and lessons and/or I totally think shred. With the fiction, sorry I didn’t divide novels and story collections, I usually judge on enjoyment and/or sweet language/sentences. The Non-fiction are ones that made me think about my own storytelling (usually in person/socially) more deeply and/or had a huge impact on my human empathy. The Criticism (I’m not sure if this is a good title for this section) are books that made me look at writing and reading in a totally different way and/or significantly added to my knowledge of writing. I’ve included some sentences about each book. Really, the order is unimportant.
Poetry Collections
Poetry! Poetry! Poetry! By Peter Davis: My parents loved seeing Peter read from this book, and if that’s not a positive thing, then I don’t know what is.
The Duino Elegies by Rainer Maria Rilke: I read these aloud to Sara as we were driving through Utah last summer, and I don’t know if my voice has ever felt better.
High Water Mark by David Shumate: Prose poems are weird, but this dude writes them in a way that is okay-weird-awesome.
The Available World by Ander Monson: One of my favorite overall writers; I think I said Woo or Woah after 75% of these poems.
Leaves Of Grass by Walt Whitman: When I want to feel more like a human being, I reread this book.
Selected Odes of Pablo Neruda: Being emotional about and interested in things is cool.
Collected Poems of William Carlos Williams: Volume I: I’m still recovering from reading Spring and All, it’s beautiful connection of images and wildness.
A Coney Island of the Mind by Lawrence Ferlinghetti: I have a Ferlinghetti bio in my to-read stack. This book is in my reread stack and will probably get re-read first.
Strike Anywhere by Dean Young: WHY DON’T I OWN THIS YET? My favorite Dean Young poem is in here, Frottage. This book gave me permission to be energetic.
The Drunk Sonnets by Daniel Bailey: I’ve read this five times, probably more than any book of poems. A small press book that reminds me it’s okay to have feelings and love to drink.
Donkey Gospel by Tony Hoagland: The first book of poems that I remember cherishing.
Cemetery Nights by Stephen Dobyns: Yikes. The humor and the images are a catastrophically killer collision here.
Another Republic: 17 European and South American Writers edited by Charles Simic and Mark Strand:
My real introduction into translated poetry. Just a superb collection.
The Collected Poems of Allen Ginsberg: “Howl” is the first poem I remember caring about reading, and I know I’m not alone, and that’s comforting.
Lunch Poems by Frank O’Hara: I’ve written so many bad “O’Hara” poems.
Favorite Fiction
Jesus’ Son by Denis Johnson: For years, people were like YOU GOTTA READ THIS BOOK. I was an idiot for waiting so long.
Scorch Atlas by Blake Butler: I’m gonna steal Christopher Newgent’s single sentence review from Vouched: You will drown in this book, you will not survive it.
The Collected Stories of Amy Hempel: When people tell me they like fiction, I say HAVE YOU READ AMY HEMPEL?
The Collectors by Matt Bell: I go to this for reminders how to use language and images, more than any other book.
Flash Fiction edited by James Thomas, Denise Thomas, and Tom Hazuka, and Flash Fiction Forward edited by Robert Shapard and James Thomas: I love passing these books around. My dad liked them. Again, a good sign, I think.
The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien: Reading this book changed the way I look at wars and soldiers and history. I’m pretty sure that’s a good feat for fiction.
The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald: The first novel I was like HEY WOAH I LIKE READING. I still don’t know what the green light at the end of the dock “means.”
A book by Dave Eggers: Velocity jumbled my understanding of what a story was, I love the short fiction in both How We Are Hungry and How The Water Feels To The Fishes, and What Is The What was just emotion wrenching. I’m not sure a single one of these books belongs on this list, but maybe as some kind of nod to Eggers’ impact on my sense of storytelling, they do?
The Anchor Book of New American Short Stories edited by Ben Marcus: I was sick of short stories until I read this book.
Cat’s Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut: This was the book that made me “get” Vonnegut. Really got me stoked about his writing. I even did a painting based on a scene in this book. You can have it if you want.
Favorite Non-Fiction
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers: Maybe, this book is enough to say my point about Eggers. I’ve never read anything that sucked me out of my selfish hole and made me be interested in others’ stories.
Halls of Fame by John D’Agata: Proves that nonfiction doesn’t have to be boring and full of narcissism.
A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again by David Foster Wallace: I’ve never had so much fun having words crammed into my head. This isn’t a new statement: DFW was something special and it’s awful he didn’t get to reach his full potential.
The Omnivore’s Dilemma by Michael Pollan: The writing skill in this book is surprisingly fantastic. Like so many people I know, this book has completely changed the way I look at food.
Letters To A Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke: I crave for someone to write me letters like this.
Can I Keep My Jersey?: Eleven Teams, Six Years, Five Countries, and My So-called Career as a Professional Basketball Player by Paul Shirley: I don’t remember if the writing was awe-inspiring, but no book has ever been this intriguing to me solely based on the story. I remember just being like DANG THIS STORY IS GOOD after reading it.
Making Stuff and Doing Things by Kyle Bravo: This book should be called, COME ON TYLER GOBBLE.
Favorite Criticism
The Art of Recklessness by Dean Young: Talking about poetry is cool. Talking about poetry and being kickass fun is even better.
Vanishing Point by Ander Monson: That one fancy award put this book under criticism, so I will follow. So much goes on within these pages, it’s just a rad tutorial on doing stuff with words.
Poetry and the Age by Randall Jarrell: I’ve never read anything this smart about poetry.
Rose Metal Press Field Guide to Flash Fiction edited by Tara Masih: I am curious about the Prose Poetry Field Guide (remember: prose poems are weird). This book might rule more because it’s so fresh, so first. It’s great and fun and useful.
Poet’s Bookshelf edited by Peter Davis: THANK YOU PETER DAVIS FOR GIVING ME INSIGHT INTO MY FAVORITE POET’S BOOKS.
Poetry Collections
Poetry! Poetry! Poetry! By Peter Davis: My parents loved seeing Peter read from this book, and if that’s not a positive thing, then I don’t know what is.
The Duino Elegies by Rainer Maria Rilke: I read these aloud to Sara as we were driving through Utah last summer, and I don’t know if my voice has ever felt better.
High Water Mark by David Shumate: Prose poems are weird, but this dude writes them in a way that is okay-weird-awesome.
The Available World by Ander Monson: One of my favorite overall writers; I think I said Woo or Woah after 75% of these poems.
Leaves Of Grass by Walt Whitman: When I want to feel more like a human being, I reread this book.
Selected Odes of Pablo Neruda: Being emotional about and interested in things is cool.
Collected Poems of William Carlos Williams: Volume I: I’m still recovering from reading Spring and All, it’s beautiful connection of images and wildness.
A Coney Island of the Mind by Lawrence Ferlinghetti: I have a Ferlinghetti bio in my to-read stack. This book is in my reread stack and will probably get re-read first.
Strike Anywhere by Dean Young: WHY DON’T I OWN THIS YET? My favorite Dean Young poem is in here, Frottage. This book gave me permission to be energetic.
The Drunk Sonnets by Daniel Bailey: I’ve read this five times, probably more than any book of poems. A small press book that reminds me it’s okay to have feelings and love to drink.
Donkey Gospel by Tony Hoagland: The first book of poems that I remember cherishing.
Cemetery Nights by Stephen Dobyns: Yikes. The humor and the images are a catastrophically killer collision here.
Another Republic: 17 European and South American Writers edited by Charles Simic and Mark Strand:
My real introduction into translated poetry. Just a superb collection.
The Collected Poems of Allen Ginsberg: “Howl” is the first poem I remember caring about reading, and I know I’m not alone, and that’s comforting.
Lunch Poems by Frank O’Hara: I’ve written so many bad “O’Hara” poems.
Favorite Fiction
Jesus’ Son by Denis Johnson: For years, people were like YOU GOTTA READ THIS BOOK. I was an idiot for waiting so long.
Scorch Atlas by Blake Butler: I’m gonna steal Christopher Newgent’s single sentence review from Vouched: You will drown in this book, you will not survive it.
The Collected Stories of Amy Hempel: When people tell me they like fiction, I say HAVE YOU READ AMY HEMPEL?
The Collectors by Matt Bell: I go to this for reminders how to use language and images, more than any other book.
Flash Fiction edited by James Thomas, Denise Thomas, and Tom Hazuka, and Flash Fiction Forward edited by Robert Shapard and James Thomas: I love passing these books around. My dad liked them. Again, a good sign, I think.
The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien: Reading this book changed the way I look at wars and soldiers and history. I’m pretty sure that’s a good feat for fiction.
The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald: The first novel I was like HEY WOAH I LIKE READING. I still don’t know what the green light at the end of the dock “means.”
A book by Dave Eggers: Velocity jumbled my understanding of what a story was, I love the short fiction in both How We Are Hungry and How The Water Feels To The Fishes, and What Is The What was just emotion wrenching. I’m not sure a single one of these books belongs on this list, but maybe as some kind of nod to Eggers’ impact on my sense of storytelling, they do?
The Anchor Book of New American Short Stories edited by Ben Marcus: I was sick of short stories until I read this book.
Cat’s Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut: This was the book that made me “get” Vonnegut. Really got me stoked about his writing. I even did a painting based on a scene in this book. You can have it if you want.
Favorite Non-Fiction
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers: Maybe, this book is enough to say my point about Eggers. I’ve never read anything that sucked me out of my selfish hole and made me be interested in others’ stories.
Halls of Fame by John D’Agata: Proves that nonfiction doesn’t have to be boring and full of narcissism.
A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again by David Foster Wallace: I’ve never had so much fun having words crammed into my head. This isn’t a new statement: DFW was something special and it’s awful he didn’t get to reach his full potential.
The Omnivore’s Dilemma by Michael Pollan: The writing skill in this book is surprisingly fantastic. Like so many people I know, this book has completely changed the way I look at food.
Letters To A Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke: I crave for someone to write me letters like this.
Can I Keep My Jersey?: Eleven Teams, Six Years, Five Countries, and My So-called Career as a Professional Basketball Player by Paul Shirley: I don’t remember if the writing was awe-inspiring, but no book has ever been this intriguing to me solely based on the story. I remember just being like DANG THIS STORY IS GOOD after reading it.
Making Stuff and Doing Things by Kyle Bravo: This book should be called, COME ON TYLER GOBBLE.
Favorite Criticism
The Art of Recklessness by Dean Young: Talking about poetry is cool. Talking about poetry and being kickass fun is even better.
Vanishing Point by Ander Monson: That one fancy award put this book under criticism, so I will follow. So much goes on within these pages, it’s just a rad tutorial on doing stuff with words.
Poetry and the Age by Randall Jarrell: I’ve never read anything this smart about poetry.
Rose Metal Press Field Guide to Flash Fiction edited by Tara Masih: I am curious about the Prose Poetry Field Guide (remember: prose poems are weird). This book might rule more because it’s so fresh, so first. It’s great and fun and useful.
Poet’s Bookshelf edited by Peter Davis: THANK YOU PETER DAVIS FOR GIVING ME INSIGHT INTO MY FAVORITE POET’S BOOKS.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Stoked Things
Spent all yesterday in Ft. Wayne with major pals like Sara, Tyler F., and Cody D. Big fun watching cool bands like the return of In The Face of War, a comforting set by Frank Schweikhardt, and another killer performance by Husband&Wife. It was a big all day fest (WE DIDNT MAKE IT ALL DAY=MISSED JOOKABOX, though we were there 11:30 am to 10:30 pm.). The sound quality was great, the crowd was cool, the venue was a sweet pizza place called Pint and Slice (AWESOME NAME HUH?).
In The Face Of War is calling it quits on May 7th, a show featuring a Recovery reunion by Away With Vega. I'm not sure I can handle that much stuff in one show. Last ITFOW show + Vega reunion might be the crumpling of me that would last all summer. I'm not kidding.
Husband&Wife has a new album out called Proud Flesh. This was the first time I've seen them since I saw them play at VGR right after the release. Oh gracious, it's rock n' roll beauty. I can't get these jams out of my head like "I'm completely unaware of the market for grumpy old men trapped inside the bodies of 25 year old kids" and stuff like that. One gripe: the liner notes are in webdigs or winddings or dingdongs or whatever you call them, which is like ha funny then annoying because I might be wrong on lyrics and look silly (see above). Anyways, they just released it on LP too. I passed on it last night, but I have a feeling I'll own it soon.
Last night, I realized there is the Mother of All Shows 5 in January with a lot of the same bands. It's in Muncie and cheaper ($6<$10), but still I'm glad I saw this show. I needed that ITFOW set to rejuvenate me for Finals and the possibly lonely winter break.
Next thing to be super excited about: Vouched Presents Matt Bell, Aaron Burch, Sean Lovelace, Andy Devine. I've never seen Matt or Aaron read and both dudes wail on the page, so I'm stoked for that. Also, be nice to see my buddy Matt again and catch up. Also, Lovelace is a cool writer/reader. Also also, I hear Andy Devine is the coolest person anyone has ever met. Also also also, Vouched is a killer thing that my pal Christopher Newgent has started, and I'm lucky enough to be an Online Contributor. YES THANKS.
I've decided no AWP this year. One, the initial (re)interest came from a cancellation of my trip to Alabama at the beginning of April for Slash Pine Poetry Festival as part of an Alabama/BSU exchange, but that's back on. With the location and the money going to that fest, I'm gonna wait until Chicago next year for AWP. I'm sad to be missing Bob Hicok, Kevin Young, etc. and the sweet readings/bookfair, but DECISIONS MUST BE MADE. Thanks to everyone who gave me advice and info on that decision.
Another thing I'm stoked about is Chicklitz. This is a group of female BSU writers who write some fun and cool words. They're putting out a chapbook, doing a reading, and now having this blog. It's nice to see people GO FOR IT.
I'm not sure what this post says. I'm thinking it says that I have a nice life.
In The Face Of War is calling it quits on May 7th, a show featuring a Recovery reunion by Away With Vega. I'm not sure I can handle that much stuff in one show. Last ITFOW show + Vega reunion might be the crumpling of me that would last all summer. I'm not kidding.
Husband&Wife has a new album out called Proud Flesh. This was the first time I've seen them since I saw them play at VGR right after the release. Oh gracious, it's rock n' roll beauty. I can't get these jams out of my head like "I'm completely unaware of the market for grumpy old men trapped inside the bodies of 25 year old kids" and stuff like that. One gripe: the liner notes are in webdigs or winddings or dingdongs or whatever you call them, which is like ha funny then annoying because I might be wrong on lyrics and look silly (see above). Anyways, they just released it on LP too. I passed on it last night, but I have a feeling I'll own it soon.
Last night, I realized there is the Mother of All Shows 5 in January with a lot of the same bands. It's in Muncie and cheaper ($6<$10), but still I'm glad I saw this show. I needed that ITFOW set to rejuvenate me for Finals and the possibly lonely winter break.
Next thing to be super excited about: Vouched Presents Matt Bell, Aaron Burch, Sean Lovelace, Andy Devine. I've never seen Matt or Aaron read and both dudes wail on the page, so I'm stoked for that. Also, be nice to see my buddy Matt again and catch up. Also, Lovelace is a cool writer/reader. Also also, I hear Andy Devine is the coolest person anyone has ever met. Also also also, Vouched is a killer thing that my pal Christopher Newgent has started, and I'm lucky enough to be an Online Contributor. YES THANKS.
I've decided no AWP this year. One, the initial (re)interest came from a cancellation of my trip to Alabama at the beginning of April for Slash Pine Poetry Festival as part of an Alabama/BSU exchange, but that's back on. With the location and the money going to that fest, I'm gonna wait until Chicago next year for AWP. I'm sad to be missing Bob Hicok, Kevin Young, etc. and the sweet readings/bookfair, but DECISIONS MUST BE MADE. Thanks to everyone who gave me advice and info on that decision.
Another thing I'm stoked about is Chicklitz. This is a group of female BSU writers who write some fun and cool words. They're putting out a chapbook, doing a reading, and now having this blog. It's nice to see people GO FOR IT.
I'm not sure what this post says. I'm thinking it says that I have a nice life.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
TODAY WAS A GOOD DAY
I played five games of basketball, including a game-winning three and a game-winning assist. YES YES CONFIDENCE.
I did a lengthy real-time interview with the wonderful Ryan Ridge for Smalldoggies about his American Homes project. YES YES GOOD WRITERS.
I took the Christmas Chapbook and the Writers Community Chapbook to the printer. Friday is pick-up day. YES YES EXCITING.
I went to a women's basketball game with Tyler Fields. YES YES NEW PAL.
Tyler cut my hair (pic below). YES YES FRESH.
I ordered tickets for Cody, Tyler, Sara, and I for the Stay Young Fest on December 11. YES YES LOCAL MUSIC.
I am gonna sleep now and that'll be good. YES YES SNOOZETIME.
I did a lengthy real-time interview with the wonderful Ryan Ridge for Smalldoggies about his American Homes project. YES YES GOOD WRITERS.
I took the Christmas Chapbook and the Writers Community Chapbook to the printer. Friday is pick-up day. YES YES EXCITING.
I went to a women's basketball game with Tyler Fields. YES YES NEW PAL.
Tyler cut my hair (pic below). YES YES FRESH.
I ordered tickets for Cody, Tyler, Sara, and I for the Stay Young Fest on December 11. YES YES LOCAL MUSIC.
I am gonna sleep now and that'll be good. YES YES SNOOZETIME.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
LAST NIGHT
Last night, I went to Indy for the Vouched Presents...Artifice Magazine reading. (Good job to the readers and the editors of this lovely magazine. Also, sweet job by Christopher Newgent for organizing this thing.) Last night, I bought "We Are All Good If They Try Hard Enough" by Mike Young (see above), along with the first two issues of Artifice and the new issue of Booth. (LOOK HOW HAPPY I AM TO HAVE THIS BOOK ON MY FACE) Last night, I watched Howl, and it was nice, not perfect, but yes very nice. (I don't watch many movies nowadays, so I feel like I can't say much about them beyond enjoy/not enjoy.) Last night, I stayed up until 6 am with three cool buds, dancing, laughing, and being cool. (THANK YOU YOU DONT KNOW HOW MUCH THAT MEANT TO ME) Last night, I slept on one of those pals' couch, sleeping over at another person's for the first time in probably a year. (THANK YOU CODY YOU DONT KNOW HOW MUCH THAT MEANT TO ME) Last night, I had a good time and now I'm tired. (LIVING WELL IS HARD WORK)
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