Interior. Night.
Ani: Barthes, baby. I’m pregnant.
Barthes: I’m dead, yo.
Ani: What do you mean you’re dead?
Barthes: (silent)
Ani: Ay, me! I am bringing another fatherless bastard into this wretched world.
Ani: Your words have fucked me.
Curtain.
there’s this mysterious place where all these people are poets and one of them a really nice one asked me to join and I did and I don’t know who anyone is but they like to play with the words and I like to play with the words too so I did but hey no value judgement and oh and this mysterious nice person is also in Robot Melon Staring Isadora whoever she is which I am also on which is a big deal for me and there is this thing about this owl which I really liked too and one from my favourite poet yes I have a favourite poet and I put a U in it and laugh because all around I am excited and much less suicidal than yesterday oh my god i love it so much
I’m in Robot Melon Issue Nine. Um, that’s it. Okay bye.
[I will bite my lip ‘til bleeding before spilling all gushy and overexcitedly ass-licking loser as I do. I am graceful and appreciative and aloof and cool. That’s it.]
[Shit but have you seen that joint? Oh my fuck.]
[Okay.]
[Somebody gag me.]
[Please?]
XXX SEE ANI SMITH NAKED!!! XXX
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Made you look.
“Never give an interview, and never trust a wanker, sir!” —Chris Light
Alas, I am but a mere mortal and have succumbed to the scurrilous desires of the flaccid ego.
Jim Murdoch very kindly (and god knows why) asked me some questions. He was very serious about them, too. It was hard for me. At times I wished some smarter kids (Vaughan or maybe Jereme) were sitting next to me so I could copy their answers.
I think I sound stupid (cannae lie) and I feel very naked right now, so go on. Hug me close and tell me I’m still special. Tell me you’ll still want to see me again even though your mom says you got the milk for free.
I am in the annual print anthology of Dogzplot Flash Fiction.
My little piece is going to rub itself all shameless upon the tender yummy bits of writers like Barry Graham, Sean Lovelace, Brandi Wells, Sam Pink, Mike Young, Robb Todd, and (my PIFFLE girl) xTx.
I am running around the house singing We’re in the Money, throwing handfuls of glitter confetti and looking for the lube.
[Seriously though, you should pre-order. Not because I’m in it - although I am - but because these guys, they care about you. They care about writing. They care about America.]
I interviewed Jimmy Chen for Jimmy Chen Week on Writers’ Bloc. We discussed miso soup, my feminine wiles and Cornish hen sex. It was so fucking hot.
Smart little Ryan interviewed me on his interview site, THUNK.
Also the likes of Jimmy, Chris and Socrates.
You notice the implicit familiarity in referring to them by their first names. I notice how many of your contemporaries admit to believing in an afterlife.
*update!* I am like one of those ‘real live bloggers’. Another one just crashed through the ceiling: Krammer.
This piece of good fiction (prose, poetry, prose-poetry, meaningless boxes) is like good friction, like rivulets of tears, like knowing smiles, deceptively comforting.
I drank it, smoked it, then I felt like recording it (because I read it countless, and he said something about readings and because I had been recording readings because I am learning how to speak human.)
Has anyone noticed that I like repetition?
This is from the book I AM GOING TO CLONE MYSELF THEN KILL THE CLONE AND EAT IT. It - the reading - starts off well, but, like life, it is long and I stumble and wander and start to lose it towards the end.
More, more, I am never satisfied, give me more
Buy the book
Visit the scary man
Hear me drunk
Hear me spanish
Throw up lightning
I am too irresponsible and immature to care for a baby but I am too irresponsible and immature to not get knocked up and I am too irresponsible and immature to get an abortion. Long story short, I gave one of my babies up for adoption today. Go goo goo over her!
I know that Barry Graham, editor of Dogzplot, will care for her like I never could. She already has lovely siblings. I’m sure they will play in their giant backyard and they will all have rosy cheeks and Barry will love them and provide their heart’s desire and they will grow up coddled and comfortable and feel like everything is owed to them and they will probably resent Barry forever. Years from now, when she comes to find me, I’ll tell her how I never wanted her to begin with.
I interviewed the illustrious Mr Sam Pink for Writers’ Bloc. Gonzo journalism at its finest, I’m certain you will concur.
So I wrote this thing over here at this new place which is something very like what I never do and I am ashamed and I want you to know about it because of that whole disorder we talked about.
I would love it if you, in a wholly caring way, went there and stomped the argument full of holes and then laughed maniacally and maybe slapped it in the face medium hard and called it daddy’s little whore for a bit.