• a thing about radiohead and that temper trap song and the artist miro
• a thing about the ebook I LOVE MUSIC by stephen tully dierks and steve roggenbuck
• a thing about that i am a technical writer by day
• a thing about ryan call’s the weather stations
• a thing about sean lovelace’s fog gorgeous stag
• a thing not about running

I know what you’re thinking. One day I will become diseased because I am too obvious.

Pastel Comedown is a tiny little stamen from my ovaries to yours.

If you listen closely you can hear me ovulating, dopamine-depleted, humming still.

One day I will grow big as Manhattan.

And eat you all with kisses. Specially Roxane Gay and the other nice Bluestemmers whom I do not know on twitter.

Stamens. Apparently the plural form is also stamina. Esta mina. La loca malparida. Mariposeando.

What’s a pistil, is that a part of a flower, too? La pistola.

Google seems nice.

Oh I forgot to tell you: that’s the last story in the trilogy. I’m fairly sure.

1. When did you last read – gen­uinely read, rather than just quickly skim through – a lit­er­ary mag­a­zine from begin­ning to end?
   This answer is going to look kiss-assy, but honestly it was issue eleven of > kill author, probably not all the way through, though, I pick around based on what interests. I rarely skim, I’m not a good skimmer. Always feel like I will miss something important when I skim because I am obsessive.
2. When did you last read a lit­er­ary mag­a­zine for a sec­ond time, a few days later, to really get under the skin of the sto­ries and/or poems you enjoyed the first time round?
   I rarely re-read, it has to be really close to me in some way. I have re-read certain stories from certain journals many times. I go back to Sam Pink’s I AM THE DICTATOR from Clone a lot. A recent one that keeps ringing in my head is For Good by Melissa Goodrich. I still listen to her reading sometimes, I find it beautiful, I sometimes hear her say, ‘I like our bodies together’ in my head.
3. When did you last sub­mit work to a lit­er­ary mag­a­zine only after read­ing at least two issues from begin­ning to end, so that you could really get into the minds of the edi­tors and get a feel for what they’re look­ing for?
   I really only submit online and then only to places I read regularly.
4. When did you last write a blog entry, tweet or social net­work sta­tus about a new issue of a lit­er­ary mag­a­zine only after you’d read it from begin­ning to end and thought it was gen­uinely worth publicizing?
   I guess this sounds like bullshit but I only ever publicize shit that is worth something to me. Which is why I can’t keep up with everything and am usually late talking about shit. I feel like this question is antagonizing, which is why my answer says ‘shit’ a lot. I know there are some people that publicize only their friends, or things they want to get into or whatever. I cannot control what people do, I sometimes cannot even control myself. I try to minimize the impact of ‘those people’ in my life, but I understand why they do things. I feel alone too.
5. When did you last look at a new issue of a lit­er­ary mag­a­zine and choose to first read the pieces by writ­ers whose names were new to you, rather than imme­di­ately go to the more famil­iar and/or high pro­file contributors?
   Probably never. In a party you would naturally drift towards people you know. Seems normal. But also, after you talk to your friends, you would be introduced to people you don’t know, and that is how you get to know them.
6. When did you last dis­cover a writer who was new to you, thanks to read­ing one of their pieces in a lit­er­ary mag­a­zine and being excited/deeply affected by it, and imme­di­ately try to seek out more of their work?
   I am still trying to find more of Melissa Goodrich’s work. Most of the writers I love right now were in some way introduced to me by ‘the scene’. I think I just mean that I am grateful, not that I think it is what everyone should do.
7. When did you last per­son­ally email a writer whose work was new to you, to con­grat­u­late them on what you’d read and explain why you enjoyed it?
   A few days ago I emailed someone because I felt a great kinship with her after reading something she wrote. But it is rare that I will email someone because it is rare that the email is taken as just a thing, and not as a ‘demand’. Kind of like loving someone. You can unconditionally love, maybe, but once you say to someone ‘I love you’, there is an expectation, suddenly the other person is saddled with this love and has to figure out where to put it and sometimes the love is unwieldy and hard to store neatly, it won’t fit in cupboards, it attracts insects, collects dust, it’s a terrible inconvenience.
8. When did you last write a blog entry, tweet or social net­work sta­tus about a new issue of a lit­er­ary mag­a­zine and men­tion an unfa­mil­iar writer (or even writ­ers), instead of friends and the names of more notable contributors?
   Again, seems antagonizing. I do this all the time, if I liked the piece, I will mention the writer, doesn’t matter to me who they are. However, I do mention people I already know because I like them and I want everyone to know about them. Seems normal to do so.
9. When did you last pause to think about a writer who used to appear in many lit­er­ary magazines/published a num­ber of chapbooks/was a famil­iar name on the indie lit scene, who seems to have since dis­ap­peared, and won­der what hap­pened to them?
   I think about people that have touched me every so often. I always wonder where Daniel Spinks is. I had the thought, ‘Cami hasn’t tweeted lately’ a few days before I learned that very sadly, she’d died. I often wish Sam would write more online like he used to but I guess I understand why he doesn’t.
10. When did you last read a blog entry, tweet or social net­work sta­tus by a noted indie lit writer – which men­tioned either how many words they had writ­ten that day, the lat­est lit­er­ary mag­a­zine fea­tur­ing their work, their newest chap­book or the date of their lat­est pub­lic read­ing – and think “Why don’t you ever just say you spent a night sit­ting in front of the TV, eat­ing pizza and watch­ing a bunch of trashy movies, like nor­mal people?”
    Before I follow someone on Twitter, I try to gauge whether they are acting like a robot, so I don’t have that problem so often. It’s sort of different on Facebook, but I don’t spend so much time there, so it’s okay. Sometimes I think the ‘robots’ are just being ‘professional’ or something, and I wonder whether I am being too out with all my insecurities and emotional problems. But, usually I think, ‘fuck it’.
11. When did you last think some­thing less than favor­able about a lit­er­ary mag­a­zine or a new indie lit book/chapbook, but not men­tion your opin­ion online because you didn’t want to appear neg­a­tive or disrespectful?
    When I decide to spend time with a longer reading, I most of the time have thought about it enough to know that I will most likely enjoy reading it or get something out of it, so this doesn’t seem like a problem to me. I have sometimes done what I think of as a realistic review, where some things were negative but I still felt like the message was that this thing was worth reading, I am glad this thing exists, even if it made me angry or sad or whatever, because I am only expressing how it made me feel, not presuming to comment on its worth or judging its merit universally.
    Feels like a lot of the problems posed by these questions are more problems of lack of personal filters. Like, obviously there is loads of shit online and everywhere in the world; it’s up to me to sift through it and find what will be the shiny lumps in my eyes. But I can’t stop everyone from taking a dump. Shit’s natural. (Sorry for all the shitty metaphors and puns, everyone.)
12. When did you last read a lengthy, dis­cur­sive post about a neg­a­tive aspect of the indie lit scene, even join­ing in with the many com­ments speak­ing up in favor of its right­eously indig­nant crit­i­cism, but then not do any­thing about it your­self or change your behav­ior because of it?
    Change is hard for people. I don’t usually join in on comments of this nature, if I have something to say about something, I make a post of it or I write it and just show it to one friend and then decide not to post it. I am not good at talking, I need the space of writing and editing in which to think clearly.
13. When did you last read an over­en­thu­si­as­tic, cheer­lead­ing review of a book, chap­book or lit­er­ary mag­a­zine, which claimed that it was “life-changing” and “seis­mic” and was going to “turn the lit­er­ary world upside-down,” and think “What? Again? Really? Didn’t you say the same thing last week about a dif­fer­ent publication?”
    Actually I can’t remember. I do often wonder whether others think that about my reviews or writing, because I do get so excited about things and am prone to hyperbole. I am trying to accept that if you don’t think I’m genuine, there’s nothing I can do to change your mind. I want people near me that are going to be as excited about things as I am. I need that energy, I feel happy around it. The energy of ‘I’ve seen this before’ and ‘this is lame’ drains me, makes me remember that life is pointless, I don’t need that, life does that for me everyday, don’t pile it on, if a book makes you happy, yell, rub it on your boobs and wiggle, express.
14. When did you last feel unpleas­ant and dirty, rather than nur­tur­ing an over­whelm­ing sense of achieve­ment, after spend­ing a whole evening fir­ing off as many sub­mis­sions as pos­si­ble to a long list of lit­er­ary magazines?
    I’ve never done this. I am too lazy. I did submit to things when I was newer at this that I later thought, ‘I really just submitted that to ‘see my name in lights’ didn’t I?’ It’s cool. I have way more things to beat up myself over.
15. When did you last have a piece of writ­ing in a lit­er­ary mag­a­zine and think “I hope [influ­en­tial indie lit per­son] reads it” instead of “I hope some peo­ple out there in the big wide world, beyond the indie lit com­mu­nity, read it”?
    I try not to think about it. I get scared when I think of who might read something I wrote. I think the most I have thought is, ‘I hope [Giancarlo DiTrapano or other hot indie-lit boy] reads it and feels like fucking me.’ I am not being funny. Most of what I do is motivated by sex.
16. When did you last read a lit­er­ary mag­a­zine that, although writ­ten in Eng­lish, wasn’t pro­duced in your own coun­try? (Bonus marks will be given for read­ing non-English lan­guage publications.)
    I speak Spanish but I don’t feel comfortable reading in Spanish most of the time so no points for me. I read UK and Canadian stuff like My Name is Mud, Clueless Collective and Metazen. There doesn’t seem to be as much of what I like here (I’m in London) as in the US is all.
17. When did you last read a main­stream book (i.e. not an indie lit pub­li­ca­tion or a cru­cial and often praised work among indie lit scenesters)?
    Is Cormac McCarthy considered mainstream I guess? I have read three of his and am now on Blood Meridian, but I feel like this is not what you’re getting at because it was recommended to me by people you might call ‘scenesters’ who are friends whose opinion I value over the mainstream.
18. When did you last read a main­stream book, but decide not to men­tion it on your blog, Twit­ter, Face­book or Goodreads page because you were wor­ried it might not carry the right level of indie credibility?
    Okay I get it, but like, seems like mainstream books don’t need the mentions anyway, right? Plus sometimes the other way happens too, where people are just like, ‘I love Harry Potter and I don’t care who knows it because I am zany but anti-hipster!’ I just talk about what makes me feel like talking.
19. When did you last say to your­self, in the whiny voice of everyone’s inner teenager: “I wish [cool indie lit writer] was my friend”?
    Two seconds ago. And now. And again now. My inner teenager dominates most of my internal dialogue. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be loved/accepted.
20. When did you last claim to love the work of [cool indie lit writer] even though (a) you’ve never read any­thing by them, or (b) you don’t really much like what you’ve read by them?
    People who are not genuine exist everywhere, not just in the indie lit world and everyone has insecurities. I wouldn’t do this one though, because I’d have to read it first to make sure that it really is cool enough for me to attach my street cred to.
21. When did you last gen­uinely notice and/or feel con­cerned about the dis­pro­por­tion­ately male gen­der bias among con­trib­u­tors to lit­er­ary mag­a­zines – with­out first being prompted to do so by a blog entry on the subject?
    I am a woman so obviously I am interested in and an expert on anything having to do with vaginas.
22. When did you last look at the mast­head of a small or mid-scale lit­er­ary mag­a­zine which lists more than five names on its edi­to­r­ial team, and think “Do they really need so many peo­ple? And if so, what do they all DO?”
    Haha. Okay, you caught me, I have thought that. Really, what the fuck do they all do and can they pay me to do it too.
23. When did you last lis­ten to your own nag­ging con­science and with­draw a sub­mis­sion from a lit­er­ary mag­a­zine because it had been sit­ting in their queue for an insult­ingly long time, rather than leav­ing it there because “hey, you never know, I might get lucky, and I’m sure they’re very busy…”?
    I never submit to people who have insane response times. Maybe because I mostly submit online and to lovely places.
24. Go on, be hon­est – when did you last take a day off from “being indie lit”?
    Don’t really feel ‘indie lit’. I always feel like an outsider in situations with groups. I’ve mostly stopped trying to be things and just decided to like what I like and do what I like and try not to worry whether my hair looks funny and just to make sure I am not making myself unnecessarily extra unhappy because sometimes it is hard work enough just to be a person waking up in the morning.
25. How do you feel about your­self right now?
    Honestly? I’m feeling pretty sexy, yo.

pretty sure i had those same shoes.

i started reviewing books for j. a. tyler, reviews editor at red fez. i say for j. a. because he is the nicest. one day a kid said ‘submit to mlp’ and i did and i have been a happy farmer since, cultivating a kind of working relationship in which things are done for the love of the soil and the rain and the sun.

the first review i did is stories ii by scott mcclanahan that if you don’t know yet you are a bird falling from the sky for no apparent reason.

in the smoke outside pubs i have been yelling at third-world chauvinist fucks about how i am lucky to sit on the curb in this city in this country in the world in this space at six a.m. in this day in this year of our own and my vagina doesn’t make anything impossible, for my vagina when i choose it to can be lifebringing not lifedestroying so shut the fuck up.

i have been reading cormac mccarthy again and thinking i can crib his word compounding thing but i can’t.

i have been loving him.

i have been practicing that i am someone else so i can show up to this and read some nice things for everyone. if you are close by and you come i might be able to give you a present that comes straight from the united states of america in the form of some words on paper in a lovely type. thanks again to sugarface j. a. tyler and his sweeeeeet mud luscious press.

i have been doing things like thinking about this year ahead of us and making plans for our future.

j/k, yo. plans. haha. i’ve really just been drinking and smoking and fucking. :)

i don’t even like the word vagina that much. still, it’s something i would do right? like during one of those “stupors” right? those >ka guys must be pretty amazing/insane to entertain my shit. guys: thank you guys.

[slight blemish on the otherwise impeccable face of my awesomeness: the issue is named after vonnegut and SURPRISE! i have never read slaughterhouse five (cue everyone die). yeah yo, i know: i am a flaneur a poseur and other french-swiped words. is philistine one too? doesn’t sound like it. regardless i am that too. plus a ho. please try to love me anyway. please?]

meanwhile i dedicate the following formula to reynard seifert:

<3 x 1.000.000 x infinity + endoftime²

my story titled amerika as in franz kafka’s amerika reynard lovingly slapped up on titular with some peanut butter. there is no mention of my vagina in that story so read it only if you feel positive and/or neutral feelings towards the lives of hamsters.

what else? think i will give up on poetry soon. i have no idea what i am doing still in life. send suggestions (for either living and/or ending life) to mail [at] downinme [dot] com.

Get it then we can fantasize that we broke into J. A. Tyler’s office and bondage-gagged him to the swivel chair and stole the books and had our way with everything, okay?
 >>

okay i’ll say more. long have i admired elimae for beauty. can’t lie, i feel pretty validated right now, like almost i don’t feel guilty for using up earth space and oxygen. this doesn’t happen often and it doesn’t ever last.

the story is about puppies sort of. it came from a mass of confusion in my belly. it just welled up like tears, bled out like sweat. can’t help being serious: i really really hope you enjoy it.

>> BOY

FUN FUN IN THE SUN SUN! HOLIDAY WEEKEND COMPREHEND!

and here is a fun video to make you smile because my story maybe won’t! chow!

Thing #2
In 2011 a chapbook on Mud Luscious Press will say my name and tell how my milkshake brings all the boys. A genuine MLP chap. I think it will be called this love is office lighting (great and harsh but always off when no one’s there). This is all thanks to J. A. Tyler. I fear if I think about it any more my heart will poof like glitter in a snowglobe and I will have to go to the emergency room again and I don’t like doctors.

matthew savoca, david ray, stephen daniel lewis, molly gaudry, daniel bailey and robert baumann all like mice.

i like mice too. i am cozy under daniel bailey.

thank you, stephen daniel lewis. robot melon is my favorite fruit.

the last time i visited this town i slept in the gutter on the roof. it was five stories up and had i turned one inch to the left in my sleep i’d have fallen to my untimely drunken idiot death. lucky then that this did not happen though i often think how easy.

i heard the sea rush and could see the glass reflecting moon. this little town is magic in that it inspires minor recklessness and whatever you think about that you know things can be great if you like them.

in a white place with pillars on the side of a mountain i was groped by very many european boys until sunup. i don’t say this to amuse you it is just what happened.

finally here is a thing i wrote which ended up in JUNE PANK. i fancy pank not only for its awesome but because it sounds like ‘spank’ and i am always very pleased by palms meeting my bum at intervals.

so you see how everything makes sense.

I reviewed (sorta, kinda) Scorch Atlas by Blake Butler for a shiny new site called ‘other’ which I am deeming ‘official hangout’ like The Peach Pit or The Max but with more stripey dicks and strange refrigerators.

Big-as-the-milky-way thanks to Crispin ‘Bringing the Internet Together’ Best and Socrates Adams-Florou, whose new novel touched me in my special place. Also theirs are not the stripey dicks far as I can tell.

***

And here’s a heartfelt poem that For Every Year rejected. I still don’t understand why?

the queen of unsubtle obviousness

if i were a finger puppet
you would finger me
every time we are together
i would like that

Sleep. Snort. Fuck. posted two of my things, the first one being about cocks and the other one being about cock.

Yeah, well, you know. Happiness is a warm cock and literature is a flaccid cock and I warned you this would turn into the house of fucking cock full of grade-A, number one cock.

Cocky cock peacock I love you cock