he has videos that everyone else on the internet was laughing at a year ago while i wasn't paying attention. and also this awesome choose your own adventure game. and also a novel called the bird room. do you want to read it for the next venom literati book? or also, i think i have a chapbook that he wrote with shane jones. i could make photocopies. let's vote. i am happy we are meeting at headquarters this weekend. someone please shine a batman light in the sky so jen and i can find our way.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Oh! Oh!
LectureWayne Koestenbaum: The Anatomy of Harpo Marx
#604: Sat, Nov. 14 12:00 - 1:00 PM
Poet and cultural critic Wayne Koestenbaum will share his contagious enthusiasm for the silent hilarity of the mostly mute Harpo Marx brother.
Admission: Adults: $5.00, Educators & Students: FREE Where: Chicago Cultural Center - Claudia Cassidy Theater, 77 East Randolph Street, Chicago, IL 60202
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
A gimmick will make me famous
I saw Julie and Julia over the weekend, and anything in it that didn't involve Meryl Streep sucked (by which I mean all of the Julia stuff was good, and I could have done without Julie entirely). Really: That husband with his meaty smacking lips and eating grunts was so repulsive that I really wanted Julie to divorce him on grounds of disgustingness and selfishness so when the inevitable Marital Problem Scene surfaced I just got mad.Also, I am pretty sure that the parents of writers everywhere are suddenly calling up their kids and asking them if they have ever heard of this thing called blogging. Which will make them famous. All they have to do is find a hook.
Crap. I just looked that dude up on imdb, and he's going to be in An Invisible Sign of My Own, too.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Pinch Punch Ch. 16: The Tiny Monkeys Overhear an Odd Conversation Among the Residents, Re: Who the Fuck is Tyra
“I think she is a robot.”
“I think she is made of fiberglass and plastic.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t make a very intelligent painting: I have already made 36. To look at them is to lower your IQ by fifty points.”
“I think she is the fire that shall inherit Oprah’s forest.”
“It’s true that the chameleonic philosophy of the common man churns in her hair, but there is the bald spot, the flaw, the hunk of pink exposed brain, human as any other: warding off unforeseen desires, releasing the bitter chemicals of loss into her blood.”
“Still, she walks the robot’s walk. Do you choose your robot, or does she choose you?”
“Maybe the chemicals just pile up. Maybe the chemicals char and blacken and harden over the years until you walk like that.”
“Dreams and mothers are just piles of chemicals, too, but what do hers sound like?”
“A child kneeling in a Saharan mirage, scrubbing her face with sand, scooping sand into her mouth to ward off thirst.”
“Just think how pure her blood used to be back then.”
"You know her secret ingredient is moon, right?"
"I hear she rises mornings and claws it down with her fingernails. In her giant’s hands it is bright and tiny like a baby, then she mortars and pestles it to death, scatters it fizzing into the vats: a cremation undone."
"The moon does not resist; the moon does not strive, it only reflects."
"What would happen if she tossed it out over the ocean, into all the city’s orifices like a cure? What would happen if she bathed in it? If we all did?"
"Nobody ever looks into a shot glass before they put it inside of themselves. Nobody sees how the silvered liquid reflects us doing cartwheels across the lawn in unison."
"Only the werewolves know, and only for a minute before the moon recollects itself."
“Um, guys, I think we’ve been in here way too long. Everything is starting to get way too poetic.”
Ch. 1 here
Ch. 2 here
Ch. 3 here
Ch. 4 here
Ch. 5 here
Ch. 6 here
Ch. 7 here
Ch. 8 here
Ch. 9 here
Ch. 10 here
Ch. 11 here
Ch. 12 here
Ch. 13 here
Ch. 14 here
Ch. 15 here
“I think she is made of fiberglass and plastic.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t make a very intelligent painting: I have already made 36. To look at them is to lower your IQ by fifty points.”
“I think she is the fire that shall inherit Oprah’s forest.”
“It’s true that the chameleonic philosophy of the common man churns in her hair, but there is the bald spot, the flaw, the hunk of pink exposed brain, human as any other: warding off unforeseen desires, releasing the bitter chemicals of loss into her blood.”
“Still, she walks the robot’s walk. Do you choose your robot, or does she choose you?”
“Maybe the chemicals just pile up. Maybe the chemicals char and blacken and harden over the years until you walk like that.”
“Dreams and mothers are just piles of chemicals, too, but what do hers sound like?”
“A child kneeling in a Saharan mirage, scrubbing her face with sand, scooping sand into her mouth to ward off thirst.”
“Just think how pure her blood used to be back then.”
"You know her secret ingredient is moon, right?"
"I hear she rises mornings and claws it down with her fingernails. In her giant’s hands it is bright and tiny like a baby, then she mortars and pestles it to death, scatters it fizzing into the vats: a cremation undone."
"The moon does not resist; the moon does not strive, it only reflects."
"What would happen if she tossed it out over the ocean, into all the city’s orifices like a cure? What would happen if she bathed in it? If we all did?"
"Nobody ever looks into a shot glass before they put it inside of themselves. Nobody sees how the silvered liquid reflects us doing cartwheels across the lawn in unison."
"Only the werewolves know, and only for a minute before the moon recollects itself."
“Um, guys, I think we’ve been in here way too long. Everything is starting to get way too poetic.”
Ch. 1 here
Ch. 2 here
Ch. 3 here
Ch. 4 here
Ch. 5 here
Ch. 6 here
Ch. 7 here
Ch. 8 here
Ch. 9 here
Ch. 10 here
Ch. 11 here
Ch. 12 here
Ch. 13 here
Ch. 14 here
Ch. 15 here
Friday, September 11, 2009
Dag. Like weeks have passed.
So here's a post to get me/us out of our stagnation. Look at this. I am interested in family resemblance because I think it is creepy.
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