Building community

I was super into baseball like five years ago, and then I figured out that I didn't have the emotional reserves to care that much about the outcome of a game over which I had no control. I still like going to games, though.

Abby and I went to see the Cubs play last night, and I remembered that my favorite thing about Cubs fans is the rude return of the opposing team's home run balls. It makes me feel defiant and tough by association. But, I think that kind of tradition nurtures a sense of community...and that makes me shudder.

By the end of the game, the guy sitting next to Abby was beery enough to want to chat; the dudes in front of us were leaning back to talk to the chatty guy beside us; there was a love connection between one drunken fellow in front of us and a middle aged fried out kindergarten teacher-lookin' lady wearing Cubs-colored Mardi Gras beads. Some guy gave me a high five on the way out and, encouraged, tried to hug Abby. I was glad when it was over because I knew the sense of community would only increase the longer we were there.

The game wants something from you. It wants you to drink (until the seventh inning, so you're groggy and desperate on your way out) and love your neighbor. It wants you to side with the majority of people and against the minority of people. It wants you to put up with stuff, especially if you're a girl. But it's still a pleasant way to spend an evening.

Killer!

Has anyone else noticed that every patient on Grey's Anatomy seems to die? They stay around long enough to provide a plot parallel to the doctors' lives, and then, they die. Now that Addison's getting her own show on Thursday, more people are sure to kick the bucket. I would like to hear Kathy's opinion about this.

Southern Accents: Hot or Not?

I would like to survey you all on a highly important matter. Do you think southern accents are hot or yucky?

I'm transcribing an interview with this southern guy who sounds sort of like Dr. Phil right now, but hotter. I can tell from his voice that he is waaay hotter. He is wearing a cowboy hat and tight blue jeans and he is super hot and I am all melty. He is not the guy in that picture.

For example: he just said: "We got to have our cake and eat it too" and it was the hottest thing ever.

I am talking real southern accents--not missourah or southern iowa or southern illinois--those are never hot. I am referring to the real south. But not the hillbilly south, if there is such a thing.

In your comments please also discuss the differences between the hillbilly southern accent and the hot/not yucky southern accent.

Survey says?

Canadians

I haven’t read this book yet, but Arsenal Pulp Press is the coolest, and something exactly like this happened in my kitchen once.Soucouyant has been longlisted for the Giller Prize.

I'm so insecure: He was just in Berlin

Dear Venom Literari--

Sorry for my delay in responding. I was in Berlin.

Questions #1 and #2 stump me. [Question #1: Why do people clap in movie theaters? Do they think the actors can hear them? Question #2: Why do old ladies make orgasmic noises while whale watching?]

Question #3: "Convolute" (or: "Konvolut") is the word Walter Benjamin used for the subdivisions in his Arcades Project. I take "Konvolut" to be a synonym for "dossier," which was Joseph Cornell's word for his files. I think that, in German, "Konvolut" also means "faggot" (as in a bundle of kindling). If I were to picture a Konvolut: it looks like the cone of cheap paper used for wrapping (or sustaining) cotton candy.

Question #4: I just finished reading David Markson's The Last Novel. I love his work. It's full of hotel (wo)men: he seems to suggest that all true artists are hotel women at heart.

Yours truly,
Wayne

[Sarah]: Sigh. I just love that Wayne Koestenbaum. And looks like we have our next book.

Oh yeah...some books are good

Lacking a literary collective (or even a book club) in the last couple of years, I spent a lot of time at the library being overwhelmed. To remedy this problem, I beelined for the new books section and chose lots of books at random, based mainly on title and graphics and size--what some might call "cover."

I read a lot of crap, developed a penchant for first novels and began cultivating The Dread.

The Dread is the feeling that no one will ever, ever understand what you are doing, so you should change it. It feels a lot like being a teenager. It sucks the fun out of writing. It just sucks.

I got Frances Johnson in the mail this afternoon. Hooray for Frances Johnson. Because oh yeah, some books are good.

Also, I like its cover.

aidan quinn is so handsome

remember that show where aidan quinn played an episcopalian priest and he talked to jesus in his car all the time? i liked that show.

another thing i like is this project by shawn huelle. a few years ago he started writing memos at his office job every day. they are good. i guess he eventually got fired because of it. i think he did the right thing.

remember when people used to say "i didn't get the memo?" i guess people don't say that anymore because no one ever gets memos. i don't know if i've ever gotten a memo. what's the difference between a memo and an email? i think maybe a memo has something to do with paper.

well some people do still say "i didn't get the memo." but they are the same people that say "been there done that" and "oh no she didn't." last night at this bar i heard someone say "get 'er done" in a non-sarcastic way. i guess he didn't get the memo that no one says get 'er done anymore. although sometimes i do say get 'er done to sarah because she hates it. i need to remember to say get 'er done to sarah more often.

aidan quinn is so handsome.

Britney 'n' me

Too much relevance frightens me, so this post is about Britney Spears.

I see a lot of similarities between Britney and me. She has that if-you-try-and-you-fail-you-suck-but-if-you-don’t-try-you-have-an-excuse-for-failing syndrome (methinks), which I, too, fall into if I’m not careful. We share a fondness for very small dogs. Both of us have oral fixations. Also, I think we gain weight in the same places.

Which flailing-through-celebrity personality do you resemble?

Innovative Fiction Prize

November 1 is the postmark deadline for the FC2 innovative fiction prize for a manuscript of “high quality and exceptional ambition whose style, subject matter, or form pushes the limits of American publishing and reshapes our literary culture."

$3,000

The Missouri Review is offering prizes of $3,000 in fiction, poetry and non-fiction, deadline October 1.
As we learned on Sarah and Abby’s back porch, it is pronounced Missour-ee and not Missour-uh, as I was misinformed by relatives from Southern Missour-uh, who also pronounce Wayne as “Waaaayne.”

A Disturbing Phenomenon

I am having this weird experience lately where everything I eat while inside my home tastes the same, or: has the same weird taste attached to it.

I made cookies a couple weeks ago that had this taste. Then today there was some cheese. There are other things, too. There is everything. How these things taste is the same as this smell that is in my house, too.

I can't describe the smell/taste. It's sort of medicine-y. Or detergent-y. But vaguely. It is an innocuous taste/smell, that neither the boyfriend or the kittycat notice.

It did make me think of Stacey Levine. Or, rather, the fact that it's Stacey Levine week made me think of her in relationship to the taste/smell. Maybe because it's Stacey Levine week I am trapped in one of her stories.

I could see her writing this story, only she would write it well, so it would be weird and scary that everything had this same vague smell/taste attached to it. The smell/taste would be so vague one would question the sanity of the narrator. A benign and possibly nonexistent smell that would drive the narrator (ie: me) crazy.

Like how she wrote "Cakes" which is the weirdest and scariest story ever and which I still think is about me.

Stacey, will you write it?

PS: if Wayne doesn't respond, his interview questions automatically go to Stacey. I definitely want to ask Stacey what to do about this taste/smell. Or what she would do about it.

Did we go too far?

Encouraged by the query at the end of Wayne Koestenbaum's letter to us, we decided to write to him and let him know how our discussion went. Penned beautifully by Megan, the letter was a synopsis of our meeting and also contained a request for a book recommendation.

Wayne has not written back; whereas, the last time we wrote him, he wrote back in, like, 10 minutes. I am in the throes of caffeine withdrawal right now, which makes me think nobody likes me, but in the case of Wayne, I am afraid it might be true.

My impulse is to bombard him with more letters and drive him away permanently. I wish it mattered to him how hot we all are.

Olivia Cronk is way cooler than...

bookslut. But I wouldn't be offended, bookslut, because Olivia Cronk is cooler than everyone. Kids, can you think of something or someone Olivia Cronk is cooler than? Post below.

Why doesn't Jessa Crispin love me?

I emailed Jessa Crispin of Bookslut to try to get them to link to my microwave "publish stacey's book" art project but apparently she didn't see my fascinating email in all the millions she probably receives a day. Bookslut reviewed my book, so they are the coolest ever, but still, why Jessa, why? Was it me? Am I not cute enough? That can't even be possible. I am totally, totally cute. It must be my personality again. Curses!

Also, we will be running an interview with Stacey Levine about her awesome new book, The Kidney Problem: tales and stories as soon as Stacey gets back from some event at her work called "the surgery pavillion" (which, yes, does sound like a perfect name for the back room at the Zakopane). Stay tuned.

Don't worry VL...I'm here!

Well, it looks like it's up to me to blog today. Either you guys are busy or you are respecting the solemness of this day...the day that 50 cent quits the music biz 'cause Kanye is gonna kick his a$%!
I spent today in the car looking for Fergie songs on the radio. I was quite successful. I heard GLAMOROUS once and Big Girls Don't Cry 3 times! Good day. I also thought about Amanda Bynes a lot. I was making stories in my head about her asking me for advice and being jealous of how pretty I am. That little gal just doesn't know how talented she really is and I hope she makes better movie choices from now on. I bet she has the chops for real drama and I would HATE to see her pigeon-holed into these fluffy romantic cheese whiz poop-doodles.
(help. venom literati is trying to turn me into a robot.)
Today is going to be extra lovely because I get to narrow down my headshots into my 15 favs! This is going to take ALL DAY because they are all so f@#$ing perfect.
I wailed on my quads yesterday by doing 8000 lunges with Jillian Michaels-trainer-to-the-stars. I scared the s@#t out of Eli when I bent down to pick him up because I am so sore I went "eeeeaaaagggghhhhhheerrrrrrrrroooohhhhhhh!" and he scratched me on the boob.
TA!

i am only going to read abraham heschel from now on

someone has turned my brain lights out.
when i say "someone" i am not necessarily blaming you.
on the sabbath you are not supposed to ignite or put out a fire.
this includes microwaves.
you can leave your stove top burner on a low flame the night before
for hot soup
but you are not supposed to stir it.
you put a lot of water in it.
you also cannot turn on a lamp
so you have to sleep with the lights on
you should not turn the light off!

Everyone on the Internet has a sleep disorder

I was going to flat-out accuse Blake Butler of stealing my hypnopompia for his own nefarious, writerly purposes when Kathy told me of Insomnia Door, but now I love him because it made me exclaim loud and complimentary things such as, "Holy shit, that was a great poem!"

Off topic: I looked up convolute in the dictionary, and I'm still not entirely sure what it means or why.

Vodka gimlets are three parts vodka, one part lime juice. That I understand.

Even more off topic: Bread bowl soup from Camille's is made by the devil. Or of the devil. Either way, ouch.

Back on topic: Read the poem.

Stacey Levine week continues

As suggested by celebrity guest Tao Lin, Stacey Levine's book Frances Johnson will be our next book club selection. We still wish someone would publish her new, new book, The Kidney Problem: Tales and Stories. I've started a promotional page for it on my microwave.

Literature to make out with...

Making out with Jane Bowles reminded me there is a whole genre of literature with which one might like to make out. Unfortunately, much of this writing is hard to find because people are too busy making out with books whose authors are naturally talented at self-promotion. We would like to get our greasy fingerprints all over Stacey Levine’s new book, but someone needs to publish it first. Please, someone, publish Stacey Levine’s new book! Put the title in a nice sans-serif font. We will promote her with quirky You-Tube videos and websites drawn on refrigerators in dry erase marker. Publish, and publish soon, because October is our most creative month.

Bear Parade

Von Steubing Day Parade! Clearly, our friend here has teleport.

Hotel Theory Meeting Minutes

The minutes of our last meeting, at which we sort of discussed Wayne Koestenbaum's Hotel Theory, are as follows:

1. Within minutes of our arrival at *Disappointing Mystery Location*, Venom Literati (playing the part of the Hotel Women for the evening) realized our obvious mistake: we had not met at a hotel. We vowed to pretend for the remainder of the evening that we were actually at the "W" Hotel downtown. We had also forgotten to dress up like Hotel Women, although Sarah did wear a hotel-womanly ring.

It didn't matter, because clearly we were not at the "W." No, no: we were at *Disappointing Mystery Location*. Our waitress was haggard and rude about having to dry off rained-on tables. While she dried the tables, she kept looking angrily skyward although there was not a cloud in sight. Missy and Megan grumbled loudly about her in the background, as they are wont to do whenever they are together.

Also we could not discuss Hotel Theory at *Disappointing Mystery Location* because the table of social workers adjacent to us were screaming about social work. They were all drinking Diet Coke at a bar, which disgusted us. We did manage to read several of our favorite passages aloud, however, including a reading by the two Meg(h)ans as Lana and Liberace, and Sarah as narrator.

Megan/Lana: I'd like to commemorate [Mr. Lousa], but I don't know where.

Meghan/Liberace: Why not Dolores Presbyterian Church?

Megan/Lana: I don't think Mr. Lousa worshipped anywhere. And I doubt his mourners could fill Dolores Presbyterian. Anyway, Hotel Women's more appropriate. Poolside?

Meghan/Liberace: That could be awkward.

Megan/Lana: It's where I met him.

Meghan/Liberace: You were fond of him?

Megan/Lana: Once you see someone half-dressed

Sarah: said Lana.

Megan/Lana: You take it personally if someone knocks him off.

Meghan/Liberace: Would people attending Mr. Lousa's poolside memorial be allowed to swim?

Megan/Lana: I'll request that everyone wear swimsuits.

We also had a deep and grumpy conversation about why people clap in movie theaters and why old ladies make orgasmic noises while whale watching. We would have to ask Wayne about this. We would also have to ask him what a "convolute" is. Sarah meant to look up convolutes, but looked up the recipe for vodka gimlets instead.

Missy, Jen, and Megan devoured red meat with their hands in front of the repulsed vegetarians. Abby confessed to eating a tuna sandwhich the day before that was still rebelling against her stomach. Sarah and Abby chugged their gimlets and we retired from *Disappointing Mystery Location* in a huff.

2. We returned to Sarah and Abby's deck and drank champagne out of plastic glasses with animals on them. We deserved champagne because we decided are about to become famous, due to yesterday's mention on Soft Skull Press's website.

All of the animal glasses were also labeled with the noise each animal would make, ie: baa, oink, etc. Then there was "Giraffe," which just said "Giraffe." Abby showed us the giraffe noise she does for her wiggle worms, which involves sticking out your tongue really far and making a constipated, "mleh"-like sound, repeatedly. It was good that we were not at the "W."

3. Venom Literati unanimously decided that if we had to make out with one character in Hotel Theory, it would definitely be Jane Bowles. Megan would also make out with Liberace, to see what it would be like, although she did not disclose this at the time.

4. Here are some select quotes from the evening, in no particular order:

"Is rehab cheaper than rent? What about prison? Prison would be AWESOME: you could hang out and write all day and get REALLY buff."

"I always wanted to be a church custodian."

"We cuddle: you just want to go to sleep." (New VL motto?)

"Just think of all the pussy I could've had in those ten years..." (Abby, regarding upcoming anniversary with Sarah.)

"Last week at Stargaze I played pool against a woman in a 'seasonal sweater' with puffy-painted autumn leaves. I also played against her two breasts, which she kept lifting toward her face to speak to. "

"You can't just throw charisma around willy-nilly."

"It was originally Revenge--not Return--of the Jedi. I know. I got the newsletter."

"Why does baby Helena get the last word? Where is Kathy? Kathy would know."

"Move the mouse to watch the lesbian-eyes!"

5. We missed Kathy. Kathy's absence was why we were not on task in discussing the book. We chalked it up to our de-evolution into Hotel Women. We smoked tons and tons of cigarettes.

6. We discussed the bright and famous future of Venom Literati. First, underestimating ourselves, we thought: podcast. Then we decided Venom Literati will be on Oprah someday soon--no, wait--we will take over Oprah's slot. But we will begin with a public access show on Chicago's WTTW. (All of our authors would DEFINITELY fly in to be on the show.)

The set will be as follows: the set will be the Zacopane (dingy Polish dive bar in Logan Square that smells like pee). The first show will feature Tao Lin jumping madly up and down on a motheaten couch, screaming: "I LOVE KATHY! I LOVE KATHY!" There will be a pool table in the background.

We will also give our audience amazing prizes, just like Oprah does. We will run into the audience screaming: "We've got Hotel Theory! Everyone gets a free copy of Hotel Theory, AND cigarettes, AND a warm can of Old Style!!!" The audience will go wild. Or maybe Wayne Koestenbaum should have this honor. That would be awesome.

There will be a segment in which we give "lesbian-eyes" to the audience to determine who is a real lesbian. It will go on for way too long.

7. We discussed our favorite Today Show segments, which I can't remember--someone please refresh me.

8. We ran out of cigarettes. We were drunk. We had to have cigarettes to keep going. We gave up. We slept well, dreaming of Wayne.

all you ever talk about is your kids

• soft skull press found our letter to wayne koestenbaum. they are good. they published hotel theory.

• i like jenny drai's blog 'i was a feral child: that is why i act this way'. she is funny. i found her on jack morgan's blog.

• i like clay bane's blog 'poetry is so boring.' i can't remember where i found him. he is everywhere.

• i like biographia photographia by micah robbins. i like it when people take portraits of statues as though they were real people. that is interesting.

• i didn't really read very much of hotel theory. i have a bad attitude. i read 'you are a little bit happier than i am' by tao lin instead. i like the poems 'i am unemployed,' 'i am about to kill my literary agent,' and 'poem to end my head off.'

if the meaning of life is to have children, then venom literati is collectively meaningless. i like that.

My First Time

(I'm a little nervous because my beautiful picture is a jumble of letters and numbers and symbols right now. It is very interesting to me, however, to see myself in this way....it's almost more beautiful than the actual image....what am I saying? Haha, that's sort of ridiculous.) I chose this particular image today, as my first in a series of, oh, 200? because I think I look intelligent and judgemental which is sort of like this blog. You see, I am, how should I say this? I am less than confident when it comes to my own intelligence...HELL I'm gonna come right out and say this...I didn't read HOTEL WOMEN. OK!? Where was I? Oh yeah, I may be above average intelligence (I was invited to contribute to Venom Literati for God's sake) but it is not the first thing people notice about me. What is? Well, my gleaming white teeth for starters (which you will see in future posts). What do people notice? My hair, my eyes, my thin yet expressive lips, the pinkness of my cheek...do you get the picture?(so to speak, hehe. I am and always will be an actress and I love that about me. I may not be a fancy-pants-New-York-City-liberal- elite-professor-writer-lady-with-little-wire-glasses-who-can-make-words-pretty. BUT! I take a damn good picture.
You know what's weird? I sound like a conservative when I'm insecure.

Thinking with my stomach

So, while on my quest to find Hotel Theory, I panicked in the bookstore and thought I needed another book (not yet knowing that Hotel Theory would fill my soul for weeks to come), and after much deliberation of, like, six other books, I randomly chose one off the shelf.

Here's the deal, though: Now I believe I chose it specifically because it had chopsticks on the cover, and we were going to eat Thai food after our bookstore excursion. I chose this book because I wanted Thai food.

Anyway, I don't like it for a number of reasons, and I just remembered this morning--as I put myself into a progressively worse mood reading it on the train--that I don't have to read things I don't like.

Someone will leave tonight's meeting with this book in her bag. It will not be me. Guard your possessions closely: I enjoy a challenge.

*Gulp* He wrote back!

Check out Wayne Koestenbaum's response. I think I have a crush on him now.

Here's Wayne:

Dear Venom--

I think I'll abstain from an actual real-time visit to the sacred space of your blog, but I am totally DELIGHTED by your attentions.

Sorry to have not given Cheryl Crane her due. I wrote both columns at the same time.

Thanks for avoiding articles in your letter. Isn't avoidance fun?

Yours truly,
Wayne

Me again:

I would like to point out that he did not mention the Apartment People doppelganger at all, leading me to believe that it was totally him.

The Hotel Women Gently Stalk Wayne Koestenbaum

Dear Wayne Koestenbaum,

Whoa--Hotel Theory--whoa--we are waaaay smarter now, Wayne. We have also all devolved into Hotel Women.

You're invited to come to our meeting at which we will discuss it. We will ask you questions, like: Which column did you write first? Or was it all higgledy-piggledy?

Liberace will be at meeting, too. Or if he is not, there will be blowup doll in his likeness. Also, there will be vats of suntan oil we can rub on his ass in unison.

Missy was disappointed that Cheryl was lame in book. In real life Cheryl stabbed that guy named Johnny Stompanato with kitchen knife, which actually makes her awesome.

Megan is certain that you were her agent at Apartment People in Chicago when she first moved here. You tried to rip her off with studio by lake for like 900 bucks per month. You were wearing that same pinstriped suit and smartypants glasses you're wearing in your Hotel Theory photo. She thought you were lying about your name being Wayne. We still believe you may be lying about it.

Come to our meeting to prove you're not.

Your friends,

Venom Literati

Hotel Woman I am

I finished Hotel Theory last night, in true hotel woman style. Picture me in bed, under all my covers, a/c blasting, smoking cigarette after cigarette, in silky pajamas, at 6pm. All I needed was a vodka gimlet. And a naked Liberace.

Lana Turner is Not as Smokin' Hot As Abby

Here's some info on Lana Turner. It will greatly enhance our readings of Hotel Theory, especially since it's from Wikipedia.

I never knew what Lana Turner looked like, but I feel like I pictured her exactly like the opening photo...

I think hotel women always look like that, sort of grainy/hazy/foggy: it's their natural complexion. It is what our complexions look like for sure. And Abby's looks even better thanks to the new head shots

Is it possible to be a hotel woman in today's day and age?

Guess what, my sweet bitches? It's time to write another letter, this time to our soon-to-be new-best-friend Wayne Kostenbaum.

I will start. Also, I will make a rule: You may not use any articles (a, an, the), like in Hotel Women.

Dear Wayne Kostenbaum,

Which column did you write first? Or was it all higgledy-piggledy?

I am not in Maine anymore

New fantasy: We buy a bunch of abandoned vacation cottages and spend our days kayaking and writing and avoiding the man-dogs and other wildlife.

I haven't showered since Friday. I slept from 8 p.m. to 9 a.m. last night (and today). I skinned my face. I think I will write a longer post about Maine later, but I'll tell the face-skinning story in this one:

Echo Lake is beautiful. You can see through the water all the way to the rocky, sharp bottom. Abby hopped from rock to rock; she can be startlingly athletic. I tried to follow suit--except I was wearing flip-flops; also, I am clumsy. The little tree I grabbed to keep me from sliding into the water gave way, and I belly flopped into very shallow water, slamming my face into a small boulder. I passed out a little bit.

Now, I have a gnarly scrape and bruise on my chin and a very sore jaw and neck muscles. I am not dead! Hooray!

P.S. The pictured chupacabra is hotter than Bruce Springsteen and John Mayer combined.

P.P.S (or is it P.S.S.?) I'm glad to be back.