stephen daniel lewis
brittany wallace
adam j maynard
kuzhali manickavel
melissa goodrich
andrew borgstrom

i feel very happy with it. thank you to ryan call and mike young, both of whom i have long distance crushes on like a fat loser. here’s an incomplete list of neuroses that i do not feel happy with:

cleaning my ears with cotton buds
using an oven glove
blowing cigarette smoke on people
stepping on lines or things on the sidewalk
body hair, specifically that i will somehow miss shaving behind the knees
being inappropriately dressed in relation to event/weather
being ‘unoriginal’ but feeling sure being ‘original’ is impossible
thinking small black things on the floor or wall are insects

• 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

[Read the interview in English on We Who Are About To Die.]

Cuéntanos un poco de ti. ¿Cuantos años tienes, a que edad empezaste a escribir y como, por que me imagino que desde muy joven te diste cuenta que tenias la aptitud, no?
Me llamo Luna y tengo 20 años. Empecé a escribir a los 13 porque estaba enamorada. Mi primer conjunto de poemas se llamaba “Cuaderno nepalí”. A los 14 o 15 años comencé a publicar en revistas online. A los 15 abrí mi blog actual y a conocer a muchos poetas y escritores del panorama español. Con esa edad viví en Francia, donde también me relacione con algunos escritores de allí. La literatura no me ha gustado desde siempre porque mis padres son profesor y editora de literatura y me aburría mucho. Poco a poco me fue gustando y me di cuenta de que en mi casa había libros, y libros, y libros. De que casi todo estaba a mi alcance: y eso fue una suerte para mi formación. Aunque siempre me he distanciado de mis padres su apoyo ha sido crucial. Soy muy independiente de ellos porque desde el principio quise crear mi propio lugar literario, pero sé que sin ellos no hubiera sido lo mismo, claro.

Entre los libros que me mandaste hay una colaboración llamada Exhumación (Alpha Decay) que escribiste con tu novio, Antonio J. Rodríguez. Cuéntanos un poco sobre el, como lo conociste y como fue el proceso de colaboración.
Mi novio es narrador. El año que viene publica su primera novela, que se llama Fresy Cool, en Random House Mondadori. Él no escribe poesía y no le interesa demasiado este género, y un día, tomando café, me propuso que escribiéramos una novelita juntos. Aunque yo nunca había escrito prosa, me animé y comenzamos a escribir Exhumación con la suerte y coincidencia de que unos meses después la editora de Alpha Decay nos propuso publicar algo juntos en su editorial. A ella le gustaban mis poemas y el blog de crítica literaria de mi chico. Le metimos más caña al proceso de creación y en apenas tres meses teníamos el cuento acabado. Aún no vivíamos juntos así que nos turnábamos y nos mandábamos los fragmentos de la historia por e-mail. Luego nos reuníamos y hablábamos del libro y así durante todo ese tiempo. El libro ha tenido bastante repercusión y nosotros estamos muy contentos. Es como una especie de hijo o algo así. ¡Nuestro hijito de 67 páginas!

En los poemas de tu colección, Poetry Is Dead (DVD Ediciones), hay referencias que yo relaciono con el mundo de habla Inglesa, no solo el lenguaje, si no también te refieres por ejemplo a David Foster Wallace, Sylvia Plath, Allen Ginsberg y otros. Siento que tu libro es perfecto para personas bilingues como yo, que crecimos entre dos o mas culturas. ¿De donde vienen esas influencias para ti y que otras cosas influyen tu trabajo?
La literatura que viene de EEUU o Reino Unido ha sido siempre muy importante en mi formación. Entre mis autores preferidos están Charles Bukowski, Virginia Woolf, Sharon Olds, David Foster Wallace, William Faulkner, TS Eliot, Jack Kerouac, etc. Es por esto que hay un fuerte peso de lo anglosajón en mi literatura, en las citas y en la manera de ver la escritura. El inglés no es ni mi primera ni mi segunda lengua, yo aprendí francés en el instituto y viví en Francia para mejorar mi idioma. Sin embargo siento que la literatura en inglés ha sido más crucial en mi vida, de ahí que me interese. Muchos opinan que parece que sólo nos interesa lo que se hace en EEUU, como si allí estuviera el centro del mundo… no sé, a mí no me lo parece pero sí es cierto que hay siempre movimientos muy interesantes. Estas influencias vienen de mis primeras lecturas (a los 11 años sólo leía a Salinger y a Bukowski) y de recomendaciones de amigos (por ejemplo, David Foster Wallace es el autor preferido de mi pareja, está escribiendo su tesina sobre él y su nombre pesa mucho en nuestras estanterías así como en nuestras vidas). Además de estos autores decía que me influyen mucho los autores franceses: Françoise Sagan, Charles Baudelaire, René Char, Marcel Schwob… también me interesa mucho la narrativa, creo que es crucial para un poeta no detenerse sólo en la poesía, hay que leer mucha narrativa y, además de la norteamericana me interesan mucho autores como Roberto Bolaño o contemporáneos españoles como Javier Calvo, Patricio Pron o Mercedes Cebrián. La poesía española también es importante en mi vida, sobre todo nombres que no sé si en EEUU conocéis, pero que deberían ser traducidos con urgencia si no lo están ya: José Ángel Valente, Vicente Aleixandre, Chantal Maillard, Miriam Reyes, Leopoldo María Panero, Roger Wolfe, Maite Dono, Ángel González… etc. Además de la literatura me gustan la música, el cine y el cómic. Me inspiro mucho en experiencias personales, viajes, en el cuerpo, en el sexo, en la enfermedad. Todo. Todo se vuelve importante.

¿Porque poesía?
Porque es la mejor forma que encuentro de expresar lo que siento, lo que quiero inventar, lo que quiero describir. También es la mejor forma de mentir. O de mentirse una misma. La mejor forma de seducir al lector. Yo quiero seducir al lector. Quiero que se quede en mis palabras. Eso es muy importante.

Hay algo rebelde e inconforme en tus poemas. ¿Crees que los escritores tienen alguna responsabilidad hacia la sociedad, cultura o su generación? ¿Cual, si alguno, es el rol del poeta o escritor en tu mente?
Los escritores y la gente de la cultura suele ejercer gran influencia en el espectador. Creo que un escritor siempre es comprometido, tanto si habla de política como si no lo hace. Yo no hablo de política, yo hablo más de la sociedad y de mí misma como individua no-conforme. Eso se ve más en Poetry is not dead que en Estar enfermo o Pensamientos estériles. En este libro hablo de barrios problemáticos en las afueras de Madrid y de mi postura ante los cánones poéticos actuales en España. También hablo de sexo, creo que es la base de la sociedad y un tabú al mismo tiempo. El rol del escritor es el de quien entretiene, hace llorar, sufrir, pensar, reaccionar, sonreir, alegrar, etc, a su lector. Si un escritor no “te provoca nada” es que no merece la pena. Eso creo.

¿Como encontraste la comunidad de literatura independiente que esta en el internet pero centrada sobre Estados Unidos, y como viniste a la atención de personas como Noah Cicero y Scrambler Books?
Hace años encontré el blog de Tao Lin y lo seguí de cerca. También había leído a Ellen Kennedy (una de mis escritoras preferidas del panorama más joven). Pero fue en el verano de 2010 cuando empecé a buscar autores contemporáneos interesantes. Conocí a Richard Chiem, a Kendra Grant Malone, a Chelsie Martin… me empecé a leer sus blogs o a comprar sus libros. Entre tanto Steven Fowler, a través de otro poeta español, me hizo una entrevista para 3AM Magazine. Cuando pedí el libro de Kendra al editor de Scrambler Books, Jeremy Spencer, resultó que éste había leído mi entrevista en inglés y entonces empezamos a escribirnos e-mails hablando de literatura. Nos mandamos cartas, también, e intercambiamos libros. Un día me propuso publicar en su editorial y entonces hicimos una antología de poemas de todos mis libros que va a salir en su editorial en 2012. Es una de las mejores cosas que me ha pasado en la vida y todo gracias a dos o tres noches de búsqueda en Internet y de curiosidad por otras literaturas. A Noah lo conocí a través de Tao Lin y de algunos artículos en HTML Giant. Con él tengo pendiente un libro de poesía estadounidense traducida al español. Sé que es un gran autor y tengo ganas de leerlo más.

Entre tus proyectos en el internet esta Tenian veinte años y estaban locos, en el cual traduces poemas del ingles al español, muchos de ellos escritos por jóvenes favoritos del momento como Tao Lin, Kendra Grant Malone, Madison Langston y Steve Roggenbuck. Cuéntanos un poco mas sobre esto. ¿De donde nació la idea, y como ha sido recibida en la comunidad española o latinoamericana?
La idea de Tenían veinte años y estaban locos era la de unir a muchos poetas jóvenes de distintas nacionalidades. Primero traduje a Ellen Kennedy, luego comencé a publicar a jóvenes españoles, franceses, argentinos, ingleses, italianos, portugueses, ucranianos, mexicanos, canadienses… Pasé meses buscando, traduciendo, hablando con ellos. Ha sido maravilloso, y, además de ahí han salido más proyectos. El primero se llama Tenían veinte años y estaban locos, como la web, y será un libro que publica la editorial La Bella Varsovia en octubre de 2011 en el que habrá 26 autores españoles menores de 26 años. Es un proyecto arriesgado porque aquí hay mucho conservador y la poesía joven nunca estuvo bien vista por muchos. Pero estos 26 autores son maravillosos, y merecen la pena de verdad. Ojalá los podáis leer a todos algún día. También salió otro proyecto, con El Gaviero Ediciones, la editorial de mis padres, y es el libro VOMIT, una antología de poetas norteamericanos (tiene que ver con el nombre de New Wave Vomit de Ana C., a quien admiro), será un libro traducido y habrá autores desde Tao Lin, Noah Cicero, Dorothea Lasky, Jake Fournier, Jordan Castro, Cassandra Troyan… Cada joven autor norteamericano será traducido a su vez por un joven autor o traductor español. Todas las traducciones, textos, etc, estarán hechos por jóvenes creadores. [Tenían veinte años y estaban locos] es un proyecto estimulante y nuevo y estamos muy contentos con él. La idea fue bien recibida, como ves. Aunque ahora tengo el blog de Estaban locos un poco parado (por exámenes y esas cosas) volveremos con más poesía. Mucha más poesía. Siempre.

¿Cual es tu mayor deseo?
Mi mayor deseo: seguir descubriendo literatura buena, durante muchos años. Y disfrutar con ella.

was just thinking that i really want a greenbean casserole and an oreo cookie pie but a specific one, i think it was 96 or 97. me and my boyfriend were invited to our friend’s house for thanksgiving dinner. our friend loved gregory corso and me and him were putting a zine together. he had introduced me to bukowski and burroughs. he wanted to be a writer and i thought that was okay for him because he was jewish and poor and he had a beard. writing was never okay for me. i am latina and my stepfather laundered money for the cartel and my mom enrolled me in modeling school at the age of six. his mom used to clean the classrooms at school.

at thanksgiving the school made a ‘canned food drive’ and they gave her the cans and a big turkey and she cooked it for me and him and his sister and my boyfriend. it was the most delicious thanksgiving ever. we had like five kinds of pies, mashed potatoes from a box, a million casseroles made with vegetables from a can and a sauce of campbell’s soup with crunchy toppings of like corn flakes or funyuns and a massive turkey and cornbread and stuffing and that bright maroon cranberry sauce in the shape of a can. i remember thinking ‘so this is what happens to the cans collected by the food drive’

Age: 33.

Height: Average for a latina.

Currently Live: London, England.

Hometown: [redacted]

Instruments: Digital.

Car: London Underground, previously: 3-door Saturn SC1.

Secret Talent: Blowjobs. (No, but seriously.)

What is the best thing about your job? Hot creeps in suits and free diet coke.

What was your most embarrassing audition moment? In 8th grade I had a crush on the most popular senior. I’d gotten okay at volleyball and decided to try out for the team. He was on the team. Think: typical coming-of-age ‘rom com’ movie antics.

If you could live in any past era which would it be and why? Late 70s, early 80s re: music and coke.

Who is your role model and why? I don’t believe in role models but I wish I had a ‘sensei’ or a ‘BDSM master’ or a really good yoga instructor or a dad. I wish I was someone’s ‘protege’. If you need a bratty protege, get in touch. Oh, I used to love my kickboxing instructor, this big, rubbertread rock of a man who’d smile when I’d hit him.

What do you do for fun? Sex, drugs, rock’n’roll, books, blogs, sleep.

Do you have a good luck charm? I must do because I keep trying to get kidnapped/raped/murdered but so far I’ve only been ‘emotionally terrorized’.

Wackiest fan encounter: I have two in my bedroom but one of them doesn’t blow hard enough. Okay, this one time I sneaked backstage at an Autechre show and kissed one of the guys and gave him a demo of my boyfriend’s music on a minidisc.

Before I die, I want to: Kiss Bill Murray.

When I fly I have to have: A good pilot.

If I had to spend $10 at my favorite fast food joint, I’d order: Chips.

My coolest article of clothing: Misc. 90s concert T’s.

My first financial splurge was: Don’t remember but at age 18 I burned through a decent inheritance fairly quickly.

When friends come over, we: Fuck.

Do you like to cook? If so, what? Easy things with cheese in them.

TV show I never miss: Doctor Who (Hi, Christopher Eccleston.)

If you could interview any celeb whom would it be and why? LIl’ Wayne so I can try and marry him.

Anything about yourself you wish you could change? Lazy as hell, y’all.

I’ll eat sushi, but not: Eel, insects. Was going to say toes but then I pictured licking the toes of this boy I like and, well—

What are your best and worst subjects in school? English and Maths in that order predictably.

If you could be granted 3 wishes, they’d be… incredibly selfish ones.

If I could gay-marry anyone in the world, he/she would be… the first girl I kissed. I was seven and she smelled faintly of strawberry.

Where on earth are you most dying to go? Everywhere, then wherever home is.

What’s the last thing that made you cry? My mom leaving after visiting me for a month after not having seen her in 1.5 years after living alone for 4.5 years.

Do you ever wish you could just be a normal kid? I do.

What would people be surprised to know about you? That aged 17-28 I was in a committed, monogamous, heterosexual relationship.

If you had to name one song as your theme song, what would it be?

Have you had a starstruck Hollywood experience? Who was it with? I got a ‘Happy Birthday’ text from sexy Giancarlo DiTrapano this year. And I stood this close to the girl from Star Fucking Hipsters in a pub in Camden once. When I was fourteen I gave my digits to a football player who went on to play but not win the World Cup.

Favorite Actor/Actress: Bill Murray.

Favorite Movie:

Favorite Body Part: Skin.

Favorite Singer: Ian Curtis.

Favorite Song:

Favorite Candy: Ring Pops.

Favorite Philosopher: Simone de Beauvoir. No, Sam Pink. No, Simone.

Favorite Ice Cream Flavor: There is a Twix ice cream that is really good but it gives you massive stomachaches.

Favorite Sport: Fútbol because the only positive male role model in my childhood, grandpa, would listen to it on the radio all the time.

Favorite Sports Team: I went to a Kansas City Royals game once.

Favorite Athlete: Sean H. Doyle.

Favorite Book: Noah Cicero’s The Insurgent.

Cell Phone or iPod: Blackberry and laptop.

Summer or Winter: All have their charms.

Ice Skating or Gymnastics: Dance competitions.

LA or New York: London or Paris. Just kidding, I ♥ NY, but shout-out to Jereme Dean and Gena Mohwish in LA.

Skiing or Snowboarding: Drinking in the cabin.

Chocolate or Flowers: All of the above.

Dogs or Cats: None, I’m a shit caretaker.

More We Who Are About To Die Getting-To-Knows.

i always feel like i miss someone, but it’s someone i don’t know yet and i am not even being romantic. i think there’s this big hole in all of us that will never be filled, this longing. i think it’s evolutionary. striving to fulfill this constant need is how we ensure survival of the species. but on an individual level it just seems so fucked.

i think everything i’ve ever written has some longing in it probably. i am longing right now. i think longing is what everyone is trying to cure or fill with drugs, alcohol, with abusing people, with food. longing is the universal disease, i think. i think longing is tied into our biology somehow, like longing is the emotional manifestation of evolution. our bodies tricking us into ensuring survival of the species by giving us this abstract feeling of constant need that cannot be fulfilled.

i don’t know, i might be talking a load of crap because i am longing.

i wish to be a faster, clearer thinker that’s more able to elucidate but i guess those SAY NO TO DRUGS ads were right. if someone smarter than i has read a philosopher, or like dawkins or something, that expands on this idea of longing, or the idea of complex emotions being directly tied to science or evolutionary concepts or something, can you comment or email me? i am too tired to google something so nebulous or that i have such a tenuous handle on or maybe you can derail me to somewhere better or more interesting.

p.s. i like what tao lin is essaying recently. i used to think he was a little bit just hype but his essay on koko and his essay in the observer this week (but especially his essay on koko) have really moved me. i didn’t remember that essays could move me and i know i am late but i am reading EEEEEE and really enjoying it.

okay bye, i love you. because without you i die, you get me.

I like playing the victim, I like pretending I’m prey. I like being chased and I like men to slap me in the face, I like to be spanked and choked, I give consent for it. If you can spell I will most likely fuck you on the first date. If you are honest and kind, I will entertain ‘fantasies’. I will not have children. I think weddings are irrelevant. I make my own living. I do what I want unless what I want is for someone to tell me what to do. I want a boyfriend who can tell me what to do, not because he’s a man, but because he’s a smart man who loves me.

I feel good that I can favor what I naturally favor in relative harmony with the world around me, the western world. I know that a lot of women in the rest of the world will never be able to say something like ‘I will not have children’ without major repercussions.

***

Last Friday a friend and I had drinks with people from work and then we went to her house and ate chicken nuggets and smoked weed and watched Miranda. It was too late for me to go home so I stayed on her couch and in the morning (I mean early afternoon) I had to go to a BBQ for a guy’s birthday because a lot of guys like steak and it was slated to be the first ‘warm’ day of spring (and by warm I mean ‘chilly-ish but you can stand outside’). Instead of trekking all the way back home I decided to just shower, borrow a clean shirt and go straight to the party. My friend suggested a white t-shirt with a high neckline. I thought about the handsome young men who’d be in attendance and then I thought about my assets (not many, not in my own eyes).

People have sometimes complimented my skin, particularly my décolletage. My friend said, just raid my closet, wear what you like. I chose a soft cotton tee with a subtle plunge. It draped smooth over the mounds on my chest making them appear like large spongy grapefruits or something, and it shifted over them carelessly, giving me that devil-may-care-if-you-get-more-of-a-peek-than-I-rightly-intended look.

It’s a game sure, and it is fun. The young party men I was thinking of all enjoyed the game too. Multiplayer is always exciting. None of them made me feel uncomfortable at any point. We were all fucked the fuck up on various substances. It was a small house party and there were about three girls and six guys. The other girls were wearing more revealing clothes than I was, one featuring a body stocking, the other a very short skirt — unlike me they’d been home and had had time to doll up.

***

Today I read this article on Thought Catalog by Chelsea Fagan and it made me sad. Its assumptions are as offensive to men as they are to women as they are to all humans who try their best every day not to create, or at least not to exacerbate, our suffering. This article assumes that:

• Men are stupid beasts
• Women are stupid prey
• Things are the way things are and the way things are cannot be changed (and I get this last point, a lot of times I feel that)

***

At the party, we slutty girls weren’t raped probably because most of our guy friends are normal, sensitive, intelligent, caring humans.

My friends are all fairly nuts. I could tell stories that would seem like bragging. But one reason they are my friends is that we respect each other. We joke about the tired old stereotypes assigned to each of us: Asians girls are always ‘up for it’, English men have ‘small dicks’, American girls are ‘easy’. We appreciate how these things hurt us, as individuals and as a group. We kiss and hug and grope each other. We couple off and slink away and the others smile and accept that we are youngish humans and we want to just fucking touch each other, always yearning to approximate the love we’ve lacked.

***

I was fifteen and Nirvana was at the apex of their popularity and In Utero had just come out containing a tuneful little track called Rape Me and Kurt Cobain was still alive and I felt like an invincible little punk because I was obstinate and fashion was another form of expression, the expression denied me by parents and school. So I took rocks and brick to an old pair of jeans and smashed artfully disheveled holes into the thighs and buttocks and then black-magic-markered RAPE ME just above the knee. Pretty near no one found it funny.

***

We live in a world of incessant bullshit, Chelsea. You can roll over in your PJs and take it up the ass, this way more subtle and insidious form of non-physical rape that society has in store for you, or you can take a silly mini-skirt risk while you’re young and say to the world: fuck you, I don’t accept your bullshit. This has nothing to do with ‘feminism’. You don’t have to go on a protest march. You can be what you want even when it sometimes turns out wrong. That is not being a victim, that is just being a person full of brain chemicals and emotion and weakness and heart. And sometimes a person gets hurt. Just because that’s reality doesn’t make it okay it just makes it reality. But reality is in large part made up of imagination.

you should let me blow you
i’ll probably
make a
poem
about it

because i am trying not to see

because all these fingers are good for
is masturbation

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.