Sarah Palin: bad for polar bears, bad for America

The new presumptive Republican vice presidential candidate hates polar bears! That's all you need to know, people. She isn't even qualified to teach composition at my community college. You need a Master's to do that, not a bachelors in "communications." And finally, are Alaskans even allowed to vote?

Nancy Pelosi, Still Dreamy

With so much attention on Michelle Obama's (kind of boring, I'm sorry) speech, hardly anyone has noticed that Nancy Pelosi, our country's third in command (not counting Oprah), is out kicking ass again, this time about abortion rights. Nancy is such a firecracker.Here's the Saturday Night Live version of Pelosi, in which she recommends Palomino as a safe word.

Blog Crush!

You guys, I love Eliza Skinner's blog. She's funny. She's a nerd. (She says so herself; I am not passing judgment. Okay, even if she hadn't called herself a nerd, anyone who memorized the fear mantra from Dune is a nerd. i did too.) We should all read it regularly. For starters, though, you can check out the thing she recently wrote for Cracked, called The Real World Fears Behind 8 Popular Movie Monsters.

Let's celebrate our birthday with a new book

What shall we read next? I want something sort of frothy.

That reminds me: I recently read Gold by Dan Rhodes, which sort of falls into that category (not life-changing, but pretty good), and then I was unpacking my books and realized that I'd had Anthropology by the same Dan Rhodes on my book shelf since forever. I never read the whole thing because I thought it was boring before. But I read it last week, and it's kind of hilarious. This makes me wonder about my former self's taste.

I think we should read whatever Meghan is reading. I'm certain she's reading something weird.

Why the hell didn't we have a big BLOW-OUT?

WITNESS! Venom Literati-ans CELEBRATING!

Why the hell didn't we have a giant blow-out for the 1 year anniversary of Venom Literati?????? Good question! If Sarah and I can put on gold masks and tiaras and shake our oh-so-sexy boo-tays for my tired old dried out 33rd birthday then certainly we could have donned something and done something for the soft and squishy collagen-filled 1 year b-day of the smartest and best-looking literary collective in the nation and possibly the world!

HELL we all had a TOGA party for no DAMN reason at all! I look gorgeous, I might add.

And check out this party-action from.... that one party......you all remember! Whose boobs are those? Was she even invited? More importantly, whose hand is that and why do I have this picture at all? [Photo removed at request of panicky Sarah, by panicky Sarah, acting as Venom herself. Please note: They were clothed. Still.]

Now I don't want to continue lest this post become too wild and unsavory...I know all of you have real jobs now. BUT I think my point is CLEAR!

Get in a car...(Jen's is the coolest) and get down here for a PARTY before another year flies by! I also suggest that you go back and read some posts from the very beginning and have a good giggle, cause they are funny-funny.

I am not taking notes from you.

Last night I had a dream that Zac Efron called me and told me he was putting on my story as a play. I said I couldn’t remember sending it to him. He said it would need a lot of revisions. Then he came over so I could read for the part of The Waiter. As soon as he got there, my sister writhed all over the floor trying to get his attention. I threatened her so she would leave. Zac Efron referred to a piece of scrap paper that said I was “funny-ish.” Then he gave me the embroidered pillow on which The Waiter’s lines were sewn to read. It was a concrete poem. I told him I couldn’t do it.

I am pretty sure almost all of this swam up in my brain because I’m reading A Streetcar Named Desire.

Pre-Order Stacey Levine's book!

Stacey Levine's book The Girl with Brown Fur is now available for pre-order on Amazon. This is not a girl with brown fur. It's a monchhichi from the internets.

bloggers on bloggers: ryan manning will hurt you with his enormous sentences

ryan manning is an online treasure. he enjoys leaving blog comments in the formula of "the asian (insert name)." oh, everyone loves it.

he also wrote a poem with my name on it! he writes poems with people's names on them. some of my favorites are this one, this one and this one. i wrote a poem with ryan's name on it:
ryan

let's go to a puppet show
the puppets will be wearing delicate shoes
it will make you sneeze a little
it will be funny
there will be a kitten puppet and a monkey puppet
they will do a floating waltz
i will think about my grandmother
and her giant goldfish and feel a little afraid
and wish the sun wasn't setting
the puppet shoes are small enough to fit on my finger tips
that is not relevant
we will still have a good time
and then we'll go to sleep

something you may not know about that you need to know about is that ryan manning wrote a remix of tao lin literature, called this little piggy went to nyu. it's more than just parody. the tao lin allusions lend humor and homage, but the poems themselves are all ryan manning: sweet, delicate, vulnerable, obscene. i like it a lot. here are some of my favorite lines from the first poem:

"a cashew is a kind of nut that can make me cry
especially if i'm already sad about something else
but if i really only love sad things from a distance
i'm going to get away from the first half of my life
and if you are trying to get meaning from this poem
i am tired of living; and i do not want to go back to school
therefore britney spears knows how to create long distances
and i'm going to distance myself from this poem
and create an enormous sentence that will hurt you"


here are some other online writers with sentences that will hurt you:

Blake Butler writes about Mike Bushnell
Brandon Gorrell writes about Colin Bassett
Chris Killen writes about Ken Baumann
Colin Bassett writes about Chris Killen
Connor O'Brien writes about Tao Lin
Gena Mohwish writes about Sam Pink
Gene Morgan writes about Noah Cicero
Jereme Dean writes about Blake Butler
Jillian Clark writes about Kathryn Regina
Justin Rands writes about Matthew Savoca
Kathryn Regina writes about Kendra Malone
Ken Baumann writes about Jereme Dean
Kendra Malone writes about Brandon Gorrell
Matthew Savoca writes about Gena Mohwish
Mike Bushnell writes about Zachary German
Noah Cicero writes about Shane Jones
Sam Pink writes about Justin Rands
Shane Jones writes about Jillian Clark
Stephen Daniel Lewis writes about Two Tears Boy
Tao Lin writes about Gene Morgan
Two Tears Boy writes about Connor O'Brien
Zachary German writes about Stephen Daniel Lewis

Best Segment Host Ever: Mary Carillo

I know I said I'm not a sports person when I was talking about The Thorpedo earlier, but the more I think about it, the more I believe that I actually am a sports person. I am just a sports person who does not like to watch football or basketball, which limits my options unless I get a much more detailed cable package.

Case in point: Mary Carillo has long been my favorite tennis commentator (except for the truly awesome John McEnroe). Her deep man-voice soothes me. Much to my glee, she is on at ten to nine (ET) every Olympics night, teaching us about China. She is...practically undescribable, but I'll try:

1. She dresses like a plainclothes nun.

2. She has the kind of sense of humor that makes you feel embarrassed while you're watching her.

3. She truly established rapport with the world's tallest man.

4. She is always only pretending to do things (like eat scorpions or cuddle with pandas).

5. She is credited with coining the phrase "Big Babe Tennis" to describe all of those massive ladies who dominate the court (that's from Wikipedia).

Also, I'm pretty sure that Bob Costas has a longterm, unrequited crush on her. I can see it in his eyes.

Poets cheat, too--just like underage Chinese gymnasts

That title is a stretch. But check out all the evildoings of poetry contest judges on this foetry page. It is no surprise to me that Jorie Graham is most scandalous of all. I heard she makes applicants to the workshop submit a photo with their application. I always wondered why the male poets were all so hot...

Australian Diver Melissa Wu is my favorite Olympian

She probably eats 12,000 calories in a year, not a day. I worry about Michael Phelps accidentally stepping on her.

Writers, Take a Lesson From Michael Phelps

I am tired of watching that Phelps on the medal stand. He is even tired of himself. You can tell. He uses the medals stand as something to stretch against. I am surprised this has not been banned yet, or seen as a sign of disrespect like the US cyclists' mouth-covering.

I was going to write this entry about how much Michael Phelps irritates me, and how the only thing I like about him is what I learned about him on a Today show interview: that before he won the 200 free, he was listening to Lil Wayne on his headphones. I like to picture Michael Phelps rapping like Lil Wayne, only with a really bad lisp. I like to picture him saying "pussy" and "venereal disease" and "Nigerian hair." I am pretty sure Michael Phelps is an amazing rapper.

So like I said I was going to write about how much I don't like Michael Phelps, but now that I am writing this I am pretty sure I love him: wholly and completely. It was the Lil Wayne that did it. And his endearing, questionable, co-dependent relationship with his mother, and his mother's adorable tacky outfits. And the stretching against the medal stand instead of treating it like some sacred object.

Okay, now I get it. Now I am getting this new discovery I'm having, this new love of Phelps. It is about that medals stand thing. It is about him being amazing while not being cocky and instead being a dork. He is a modest person. He is tired of himself and his medals. He loves to get in a pool and swim every day; that is just what he does. He is always thinking about stretching and water. Stretching and water make him happy.

Everyone famous should learn a lesson from him, which is modesty. And especially people who are not that famous, like writers who are immodest and braggy and conceited. That is something that irritates me lately a whole bunch. I want writing to be like stretching and water to me.

Also, finally, and most importantly, Aaron Piersall is totally hot. Michael Phelps is not hot.

I miss The Thorpedo.

I’m not really a sports person, but when the Olympics are on, I feel obligated to watch every single second of them. This means I form personal attachments to athletes like Ian Thorpe (from, like, eight years ago, but I can’t let go.) I have figured out that my love of The Thorpedo is still affecting my feelings for Michael Phelps.

Both of these people are swimmers. You know that. They had a rivalry a while ago before Thorpe retired, although it seems to me like maybe Phelps shouldn’t have been born yet back then. I was absolutely on The Thorpedo’s side. I loved his pointy face and poky hair. I loved his accent.

Last night when Phelps destroyed Thorpe’s world record by like a million seconds, I got really angry, and this made me realize that it isn’t just that Phelps has to eat 10,000 calories a day to maintain his weight that makes me dislike him. It isn’t his friendship with the bicep-kissing Grevers. It is still The Thorpedo. It will always be The Thorpedo. I really like saying The Thorpedo.

Kafka's porn

Kafka liked girl-on-girl porn. Yeah, who doesn't. I wish I had known that before I got this stupid beetle tattooed on my arm.

The mower borrower

I just spent 30 minutes mowing a 6x7 foot space. It is approximately 2/5 of my front yard. I used a manual mower. I sweated a lot. It made no difference at all to the overall aesthetic of my outdoor space.

Now I have to talk to my neighbor to see if I can borrow his mower. Is there such a word as "mown"?

fun summer fun

you know how on that show dexter he acts like a normal person even though inside he's a sociopath? i'm going to do that with summer. i mean, i'm going to act like you are supposed to act in summer even though i'm dead inside. summer fun! i had a lot of it. i went to the aquarium yesterday with cute toddlers.

and then today megan and i went to andersonville for lunch and shopping. there were lots of sidewalk sales. megan and i both bought lesbian summer shoes and then we wore them out of the shoe store like you do when you are 7. they felt good on my feet but megan said maybe hers make her feet sweat. sucko. also we saw a puppet show. it was awesome. it was a puppet bike. it made me dance a little. also megan got really cute shirts at presence and i got a bag. it irritates me that i can't link directly to the bag i bought, but my bag is like 'the betsy' except the fabric is completely different. it's actually nothing like the betsy except that it's the same shape and i wanted to link to something.

Some Books Are Just Terrible

I won't name names, but Liz Spikol will:

poem clothes

did you guys know diagram has a clothing line? i think there should be more poetry clothing out there. it could be like when i was a fundamentalist christian in high school and i had a different jesus t-shirt for every day of the week. i basically had no clothes other than jesus t-shirts. i had one that said "the next time the devil reminds you of your past, remind him of his future," and the word "future" was in flames.

other people are this way with disney t-shirts, especially winnie the poo. some people don't own any garments that are without a poo on them. maybe this only happens in indiana. oh also possibly i am thinking of the looney toons. i used to know a girl with tons of tweedy bird shirts.

i have friday and monday off of work. tomorrow my friend from indiana who does not wear disney clothes or jesus clothes is coming to visit. she is bringing her husband and toddlers. and then saturday megan and are going to alamo shoes!

it is raining. last night i watched things we lost in the fire. i only rented it because benicio del toro was in it but it turned out that i liked it a lot. he was fantastic. he has strange body movements and facial expressions.

Am I going to have to get a bird to catch the spiders?

I am posting this because I am tired of looking at that armpit. It makes me think of that one tattoo, you know the one.

My neighbor who jogs wherever he goes moved out. He lived next door to me for a week and a half. His arms hang loose at his sides and he hunches his back when he trots along. To clarify: He does not walk, ever.

I had an ant problem, but now I don't have an ant problem. I have a spider problem instead. Good ol' nature.

armpit cocoon

I just discovered while sitting here having a headache and a stomachache in unison that I am pretty sure I haven't shaved my armpits since Sarah left. This is some kind of protective subconscious action--subconsciously I believe that if the hair grows long enough it will wrap me up in a safe and furry cocoon and that I can just live in there protected for the rest of my life.

Speaking of cocoons, the librarian at the college where I teach, who is always bringing in animals in tiny enclosed containers, brought in some caterpillars the other day who are now cocooning. Before the caterpillars in this same container there lived a betta who I'm pretty sure lived on tap water and flakes of pastry, which came from one of the other teachers who brings in leftover pastries from his church in a brown paper bag which the librarian then gives away to all of the other charity case teachers like myself. The brown paper bag has greasy stains on it and I always eat the pound cake, even though it is questionable for many reasons, including the fact that it is lemon with chocolate frosting, which is just weird.

[Hand signal]

So hands-down the weirdest thing about being in my entirely new place is that old jokes work again. I am surprising. That feels all right. They'll get used to me soon enough, I'm sure.

I am reading Girl Factory now, because I only read things that the VL vixens tell me to read. Physically I love its jagged edges, its odd size. Textually, I love the main character. I keep wishing he could be transplanted into Samedi the Deafness. He would eff ish up.

I don't swear anymore.
Until I see all of you again. This very weekend. Hmmm...should we invite The Ball to our next meeting? Also, do you think that he'll be offended by my calling him The Ball, because after Kathy gently stalks him down, I plan to do this to his face.

I'll also make a special balled-up fist hand signal for him. I will say things like, "Maybe I shouldn't say this in front of...[hand signal]...but how much frustration can one reader take?"

Oh, poor The Ball. I actually liked Samedi. I almost bought it twice before I finally bought it for this purpose. I wish I had bought it instead of the other two books I bought. I am not telling you what those other two books are because I am extremely nice. I am just cranky because I have to drive four hours tomorrow.

today in correspondence

i am very confused about what is happening with christian bale. sarah has been helping me with it. we also talked about samedi the deafness for a second.

me to sarah:

i am excited for you to come here this weekend. i will be fully recovered by then. i will have interesting things to say.

dude what is going on with christian bale

k+

sarah to me:

I am excited for me to come, too. I am worried, though, because it is supposed to be thunderstorming from here to Chicago on Friday. I am an excellent driver.

Christian Bale got pissed off at his mom who forced him into show business at a young and impressionable age. That is my theory. Also, now that he's a badass, it's leaking into his personal life. Also, there might be a Batman curse.

Love,

Sarah

me to sarah:

i didn't know that grieve really had a twin. my problem as a reader is that i don't really pay attention to plot. i am not following this book at all. i have to start over.

at first I heard that christian bale physically assaulted his mother and sister. then i heard that he just shoved his sister. now apparently he only verbally assaulted his mother. soon it will turn out that it wasn't his mother, it was a maid, and it wasn't christian bale, it was donald trump, and it wasn't a verbal assault, he just likes shouting "you're fired!"

christian bale can push me if he wants.

what what,
k+

sarah to me:

The funny thing is that I'm not sure the plot matters, except as a vehicle for The Ball's views. Which is okay, I guess.

Yeah, I'm pretty sure Christian Bale stabbed his pregnant wife. He can stab me if he wants.

xo,
Tee Minus

was that christian bale post annoying? look at shane jones' new fashion line then.

THE EXTREME DEEP V.

all the writers will be wearing them at the next AWP conference.

Lettin' my nerd light shine

Look ladeez, it's our old friend, Dr. Manhattan.

Last Night...

Meghan, Abby, and I got drunk and missed Sarah.

To distract ourselves from our grief, we went to Latin dance night at Stargaze. Stargaze on Latin night is definitely my new favorite place not only in the city, but the world. I got to sit there and watch other people dance and fantasize about how my life would change if I became a really good dancer.

I would definitely give up writing in exchange for dancing abilities. Also being a good dancer makes everyone hot. Therefore, I will never be hot and I will be a writer forever.

Hot or not: my beautiful loveseat

Sometimes I intentionally choose things because they are ugly. Maybe I feel sorry for them. Maybe I like ugly things.

I saw my new loveseat and said, "Oh!" like I was a mother. Specifically my mother. Later, Abby told me she thinks it is ugly. I think she thought I thought it was ugly and wanted it for that reason. But I think it is very beautiful.

i recorded megan reading from boom boom splat without her knowledge

but she said it was okay to post it. megan and i read at a thing tonight. megan read from the book she and sarah and i wrote called 'boom boom splat.' you can't see it, but the crowd went wild and many people passed out.

blog re-design and jesse ball gentle stalking

at the place of my employ, we offer all of our clients a "re-design" once a year. or like, maybe once every other year. whatever, the point is that i try to apply my profession to every aspect of my life. i am always looking for an opportunity to write a newsletter, proofread some copy, or re-design a thing. thus, i have re-designed our blog. what do you think? when i say "you" i am talking specifically to venom literati girls, but the general public is also welcome in this discourse.

also! samedi the deafness is our next book. i found out recently that jesse ball lives in my neighborhood. the hunt is on. i expect to be hiding behind many a lamp post in the days ahead.

One part depression forum, one part rare books

Today, after I typed a message to Kathy that said something like, "whine whine whine i was planning on going to this rare books and manuscripts library after work, but what am i going to do there by myself? wander?", it occurred to me that I was being pretty pathetic. Of course I sent it anyway because I'm used to her being privy to my every fleeting emotion. But then I went. I got lost, got a map, got lost again, realized I was holding the map upside down, and found it.

Inside there were many interesting things, such as a puzzle exhibit, where I learned of this thing called a Justice Cup, which was this hilarious joke easterners played on the greedy. It's a normal cup if it's filled up to one-quarter of an inch to its brim, but if you fill it any more, it all drains out this secret passageway into the bottom. Also, there was a hank of Sylvia Plath's hair. It said it was a lock, but this sucker was a hank. It looked like Ted put her hair in a ponytail and then cut it off. There was a handwritten manuscript of "Blackberrying," too. And a typewritten manuscript of "Goldfinger" with handwritten edits. By Ian Fleming, not Sylvia Plath. It was all very pretty.

summer reading list

I got two new books at The Book Cellar:

1. The Waitress was New / Dominique Fabre
2. The Girl Factory / Jim Krusoe
I bought The Girl Factory hoping that it was a do-it-yourself instructional manual on how to build one. It seems to be a novel. That's fine too, I suppose.

pictured: artist unknown, girl factory,not to be confused with the Sienna Miller vehicle, Factory Girl, which was totally boring