Check-Mate

I read The Pharmacist's Mate today, and was blown away. I'm more than a little late to this party, as the book has been out for seven-plus years now, but holy smokes! In some ways I think Amy Fusselman was ahead of her time because the ways she is telling this memoir seems very akin to the nonfiction work I've been seeing over the last year or so. The book is the story of a woman who wants to be pregnant, and is going to great lengths to make it happen, but also encompasses her father's passing, as well as passages from the diary he kept while in the Merchant Marine. The book is full of beauty, child-like wonder, and a sense of wandering. Fusselman writes on the first page: "I was a child once, with a dad. My dad is dead now. He died two weeks ago. I have never had anyone so close to me die. I am trying to pay attention to what it feels like." There is so much in just these five sentences. The lyrical quality of the sentence variation; short and declarative to near-ethereal. And that last sentence really sums the whole book up for me, this story is the story of someone who is trying very hard to pay attention to every bit of life, something as a reader I am more than grateful for.

Thank goodness for that sale McSweeney's had a bit ago, or I would have never ordered this book. Check it out HERE.

My contributor's copy of the new Third Wednesday arrived in the mail today. I'm very pleased to be in TW for the second time. This issue houses a poem titled, "Watching Lightning with My Love," which is pretty much about what it sounds like.

Deluscious

The new issue of Mud Luscious is live, and features wonderful work from the likes of Peter Berghoef, Ravi Mangla, and Molly Gaudry, as well as my poem, "& the wake was such." Check out all the freshy goodness HERE

Saturdayness

My chapbook manuscript of persona poems, The Webcam Starlet received an honorable mention in Blood Pudding Press' chapbook contest. Several poems from the manuscript are forthcoming in BPP's sister site, the online journal Thirteen Myna Birds. I'll let you know when that happens.

Now I think I will look for another possible home for the collection. The project was a result of a photo prompt from Molly Gaudry, it started as one quick poem and ballooned from there... if anybody out there is looking for a short manuscript of poems about a webcam porn star give me a shout.

Little Things

I'm going to have a small (200+ words) story called "The Sad Giraffe Demographic" in an upcoming issue of Bust Down the Door and Eat All the Chickens. It's an odd little piece, and I am happy to have found it a home.

I mailed in my "graduation reservation" form today. One more step.

I feel impatient. About multiple things.



Just awesome.

Is Bukowski Back From the Dead?

A few days ago I got a "friend request" from Charles Bukowski on MySpace. It was even weirder because I had brought South of No North to work with me. Bukowski seems like the kind of guy that might come back from the dead. The Bukowski haunting didn't end, either. I wrote a story that made me feel like I had channeled him. Not necessarily quality-wise, but definitely in its tone. Of course, I've been known to write Bukowski-esque stories, but really hadn't done so since I finished Code for Failure. Then I got a response to a query about CfF, and the editor seemed to mock my mention of Bukowski (I mention him in the query because the novel is a factotum piece, and a logical reference point in terms of style. Maybe that's not a good move on my part...).

I hadn't read much of Bukowski's fiction, mostly his poetry, but I really fell in love with this book, and "Love for $17.50" instantly became one of my favorite stories ever. I certainly can't add anything new about what makes Bukowski great, but his reckless abandon when it comes to mining dark or perverse action really revs my engine as a writer and a reader. There's a freedom in being able to do that, and in being comfortable doing it.

Charles, if you've really come back from the dead I'm sorry for rejecting you on MySpace.

SHAME = GREATNESS

My taste in books is being thoroughly shamed HERE, no worries, it's all in fun.


I'm almost finished reading Updike's Rabbit, Run, and I've got to say the first 90 pages or so were dreadful. I was seriously considering not finishing, which I've only ever done with two other books (A Far Off Place and Rushdie's terrible, Fury). But I decided I had to plug away, and I'm glad I did. The book got saucy, and I got into it. There were a few more really dry patches, but as a whole I've really enjoyed everything from page 94(?) on.

I've been writing some poetry again, for the first time in a month or so. It always feels good when that happens.

U2 Can Feel This Way

A lot of people have been ragging on the new U2 album, sure it's still getting a lot of great reviews, too, but there seems to be more negative reaction this time around than pretty much anything since the Pop era. My copy of the album came yesterday, ten days late, but the packaging alone (as I splurged on the deluxe edition) was worth the wait. After listening all the way through now, I can say the music was worth the wait as well. No Line on the Horizon reminds me of late-era Beatles in some unexpected ways; it finds a way to put serious "statement" songs next to playful rockers ("Get On Your Boots," anyone?) This is something the Beatles were lauded for, but it seems every time U2 has tried this they have gotten raked for it. Sure, they aren't the Beatles, and I'm first in line to say so, but what I'm trying to say is this is the first time in their career where I think they've made an album with a successful balance between serious U2 music and playful songwriting.

And the album sees them all taking chances. Bono tries out some vocal experiments on the title track, in fact his voice sounds so different I thought my iPod had gone wonky and skipped to a completely different artist. The Edge busts out a slide on a solo on "Magnificent" and it is. But the star of the album isn't either of them (which may be the biggest surprise of all), it's Adam Clayton and his bass. The bass reaches into your chest on this album. It beats so hard that it dares your heartbeat to assimilate.

There are more classic U2 moments than on any album since Achtung, Baby (especially the intro to "Unknown Caller"), but there's so much new stuff going on that I felt like I was truly listening to a band that refuses to stay stagnant, a refreshing stance for a band that's been around for nearly thirty years and could crank out an award-winner in their sleep. This album sees their fastest tempo-ed song, the aforementioned "Get On Your Boots," which, sure, has some ridiculous lyrics, but the lines aren't any more ridiculous than something like "Sail the ship / Chop the tree," etc. And frankly I think the line, "I've got a submarine, you've got gasoline / I don't want to talk about war between the nations" states U2's intention with this album: Hey, we're political, but we still know how to rock, which is exactly what songs like "Boots," "No Line On The Horizon," "Stand Up Comedy," and "Breathe" do.

This album stands with the best of U2's catalog. Where exactly? For me it's above their last effort, How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb, and somewhere in the mix of Achtung, Rattle & Hum, and All That You Can't Leave Behind, but not quite touching Joshua Tree. Of course it's not the punk album that I'm constantly hoping for all my favorite bands to churn out one day (seriously, all bands need one balls-to-the-wall, sixteen-songs-in-thirty-minutes album in their career. Are you listening, Wilco?), but I am more than happy with the songs on this album, and look forward to listening to it for years to come.

How do I Answer? or Cyrano & the Phone

Yesterday I submitted my application for graduation... one small step in the process toward finishing my MFA. There's still a lot of work to be done, a lot of revising. A lot. But it's pretty hard to believe that in a little more than three months it will all be over. These two years have flown by, and I'm doing my best to sit back and appreciate all that has happened, even though I'm in the thick of my thesis. Now to do something with all this, the degree, the writing. Other than going crazy, of course.

Number Nine

A poem from a small manuscript of persona poems called The Webcam Starlet has been posted on 13 Myna Birds the poem is called "Field Trips" and it is #9 on the site, which starts at #13 and scrolls down to #1. Scroll and read away!

New Work Up

The new issue of Sir! has gone live. Check out my contributions HERE, then check out the other fine writers involved!