Ryan Manning has interviewed lots of writers I admire. I feel gratified that he interviewed me. Ryan Manning is also a writer and he does a lot of other things that are great to look at/listen to. You can find those things here. He wrote a thing that was published in Lamination Colony that I read a bunch of times and laughed at and felt things about.
Thanks Ryan Manning.
Have a Good Day,
KGB Bar, 85 East 4th StreetNew York City, NY
Brandon Johnson (poet) is the Managing Editor of zingmagazine, a contemporary art publication. Brandon received a BA in English from the University of Denver and an MFA from The New School. His work has appeared in a group exhibition, 8.5x11 / A4, at James Fuentes Gallery in Chinatown, among other places. He grew up in Chicagoland and now resides in the south side of Williamsburg.
Matt Everett (music)—Matt has played every style of music from circus to pop to country to electronica, even doing session work for Will Oldham. His current iteration could be called “chamber folk” or “arty pop” depending on mood, and features himself on guitar & vocals and Anne Damassa playing piano and singing some too. Sneak preview his new album at: www.cdbaby.com/matteverett
Minju Pak (fiction) grew up in Southern California’s Inland Empire. Her fiction has appeared in Sleepingfish and Hex Ed. Journal. She has an MFA from The New School and is currently working on a collection of short stories.Ben Mirov (poetry) lives in New York. He has some poems in or forthcoming from 3AM, Opium Magazine, Fou, and Lamination Colony. He is editor of paxjournal.com. Sometimes, he blogs at isaghost.blogspot.com. He would like to thank his headphones and tacos for saving his life.
I have a new thing up at elimae. You can read it here. elimae is a journal I consistently read. elimae stands for ELectronic LIterary MAgazinE. It is one of the oldest electronic journals, maybe the oldest, I can't remember. I like that the editor, Coop Renner, thinks biographical information is irrelevant when considering the quality of the submissions he receives. I also like that each issue has an eclectic range of writing presented in a simple, nice looking format. The thing I wrote is called "Ghost Node" and elimae says it is fiction.
Thank you Coop Renner.
Thank you David Lehman.
I'm also impressed by the ability of chapbooks to survive in otherwise hostile environments. I like the way they are constructed by hand and the way they are designed for small, particular audiences for little or no financial gain.
Here are some chapbooks and some deep sea creatures that are rad:
Julia Cohen: The History of a Lake Never Drowns
Press: Dancing Girl Press
5.25" by 8"
Come here, balloons
We have business
We have alter-egos so distinguished
Nobody can tell us apart
Nobody can tell us they're sorry
Glowing Sucker Octopus: Stauroteuthis syrtensis
Size: up to 50 cm
Depth: 700-2500 m
The Glowing Sucker Octopus can change its shape at will. It can expand the size of its body, inflate itself or twist itself into a rope-like shape. Also, it looks like a space alien from a 1950's sci-fi movie called "Attack of the Glowing Brain-Creature".
Zachary Schomburg: The Pond
Press: Greying Ghost Press
Size: 5.5" by 7.25"
I am sleeping on a chair with very long legs
in the middle of the pond.
I don't have a name.
Spookfish: Winteria telescopa
Size: 20 cm
Depth: 400-2500 m
The Spookfish has very large eyes that enable it to to see in almost total darkness. Its eyes are sensitive enough to distinguish between the bioluminescent glow of potential prey and the glow of predators. And it looks hilarious.
Sampson Starkweather: City of Moths
Press: Rope-a-Dope Press
Size: 6.5" by 6.5"
Before we part, there's one more thing I need to know. Does water flow in the city where you live as well? When I was there, I don't remember anything but rinsing your scent off my skin from some sort of sex the night before. But who's to say what's real? Was that what I loved?
Silky Medusa: Colobonema sericeum
Size: 5 cm
Depth: 500-1500 m
Justin Taylor: More Perfect Depictions of Noise
Press: X-ing Press
Size: 5" by 7.75"
(...) I am going
to stare out the dirty window of this apartment
overlooking East 3rd street and think about being
the kind of man who listens to a song
and makes a decision, but not actually be that man
or decide anything.
I've been reading lots of criticism lately. I'm reading John Yau's new book on Jasper Johns, "A Thing Among Things". I'm slowly working my way through John Ashbery's Collected art criticisms, "Reported Sightings". I also read Joshua Clover's long essay on the Matrix, which is my favorite non-poetry thing I've read in 2009. Also, I read and have been thinking about an essay by DJ Dolack on the Dickman brothers and an essay on criticism by Matthew Zapruder.
Matthew's essay made me want to write better criticism. This is something I've been thinking about for the past year. I think Matthew is right that there is room for lots of good criticism right now. Criticism that values the integrity of its genre as much as it values its own opinion. I began to read more criticism because I was bored with writing it. I made me feel shitty, even though I always find it interesting to write about poetry. Lately, I've been feeling like there are ways to write good criticism. Or, that criticism can be incisive, ethical, and entertaining at the same time. I've written a few pieces of criticism I feel good about. I wrote one on an anthology of Chinese poetry edited by David Hinton (here) and another for the Brooklyn Rail on a book of Wangechi Mutu's art (here). I also feel I've written some good stuff for Coldfront.
Thank you John Reed.
Thank You David Lehman.
Thank You Brandi Wells.
Thank you Justin Taylor.
This issue is guest edited by Michael Kimball. I sent Michael some writing when I was in SF this January staying on my brother's couch. I sent him a story called "Leftover Horses" that was 404 words long, and some other stuff. He wrote me back and said he would like to use "Leftover Horses," but just the first line and I was like Whhhaaaa?
It was an interesting moment. At first, I felt it called my "artistic integrity" into question, but then I looked at my story and drank some coffee and realized Michael Kimball is a good editor. I like his version better. It is 40 words long. If you want to read the rest of the story, it's down below.
Thank you Michael Kimball and Blake Butler.
Have a Good Day,
(Leftover Horses Con't)
...They look pretty anxious, I can tell you that much. One of them, a black mare, keeps running full speed to either end of the corral, back and forth, all the time. You heard me. I've got them penned up in a corral. What did you expect? Like I was going to let them run wild all over the place. What do I do if they start to mate? It's not like I can have a bunch of foals stumbling around. Talk about a mess.
Now, I have to find something to do with them. They can't just hang out in the corral forever. Besides, I'm pretty sure the grey one is wild. He keeps looking me in the eye and won't break his stare. It's not natural.
Ugh. I spend so much time tending to them. I barely have a moment for myself. I had to write a whole other story that began with some cowboys who got left out. Now, at least someone can watch the horses while I sleep. Still, I don't get much rest.
Just the other day the cowboys were pissed. They were saying that they couldn't be expected to take care of so many horses without any women around. I said, forget about it fellas. I'm not about to write another story just so you can get some action. But then I started thinking about it and I felt kind of bad. If I put myself in their shoes, I'd probably feel the same way.
So, I wrote another story. This one started with a bunch of cheerleaders who go on a road trip to loose their virginity, but then get left out of the story altogether. So now the cowboys are happy and the cheerleaders are happy, too. They've coupled off and built little homes for themselves. Even the horses seem happier. They're much calmer than before and some of them can even be ridden. Except for the grey one. He's as scary as ever. I think he wants to be put in a story. You know how he feels. You're left out of things too.