Gossip [&] the Devil

Proofs 3-5 of 5 + swag + scented oils = packages done G & D style

It feels like it’s been a long time. Currently I’m listening to the brand new Muse single and feeling vicious. I can’t seem to find the words lately but what faith I possess clings to the insides of my skull and says it won’t stay that way forever. There are too many artists out there working in art’s favor, too many inspiring my favor for me to let go completely.

Proofs 3-5 of 5 have been sent out to some of my most trusted family, in an effort to catch any last mistakes and to gauge what works and what doesn’t, before the final books go to print. I promise they’re coming. I’m also out of nearly everything in the merch store, so time to re-order/re-design swag over there too. Busy days for dreamers, it seems.

Speaking of books, probably my favorite small-press publication out right now is a bi-annual journal called Quick Fiction, published by The Parlor, North Shore’s Independent Writing Studio. Quick Fiction is dedicated to showcasing flash-fiction of 500 words or less and it’s completely revitalizing. In my opinion, flash-fiction still isn’t really recognized as a legitimate genre. It isn’t quite a short-story, not nearly long enough to be a novella, nowhere near a poem. Many people I’ve talked to have written flash fiction off as “an easy way out” or basically for people not good enough to excel in any of the above mentioned genres. Prose in general tends to be frowned upon. (How many of you got the “this is purple prose” on any of your college papers?) As Samuel Taylor Coleridge once said: “I wish our clever young poets would remember my homely definitions of prose and poetry; that is, prose = words in their best order; poetry = the best words in their best order.”

But I find flash-fiction to be my second-favorite genre to work within, next to poetry. It’s a photograph in 500-1000 words; it even looks like a photograph on the page. To me, it takes immense talent to describe a scene in all it’s detail in 500 words, by no means is it an easy task. From the absurd and sickeningly beautiful “The Practical Application of Beauty” by Andrea Kneeland in volume 15 to the gorgeous description in “Sunny Days Are Fine” by Matthew Purdy in volume 12, Quick Fiction is dedicated to publishing some of the best at this craft.

For any aspiring artists out there the artwork for their covers is always amazing as well. If you’re looking to get your work on the cover of a class act publication, I’d highly recommend checking it out:

Some of the copies of Quick Fiction that I posses.

I have submitted to this journal and, like The Great American Poetry Show, I will not fail to submit to until I am accepted. I love it that much. I mark all of the books I own, but I mark this one in pencil so I can erase it later. No really, I’m telling you, go buy a copy. For $8 you can own something that will surely inspire you. It’s well put together, aesthetically pleasing and stuffed full of talent. If you absolutely don’t want to buy a copy (what?) you can also donate, as it is published by a sponsored project of Fractured Atlas, a non-profit arts service organization.

In other news I’ve finally finished my interview with Gil Baram, Kill Hannah’s new touring guitarist. We were able to talk at length and the more we talk the more I find him to be extremely well-spoken and honest–traits you don’t take for granted in this industry. He’s relatively unknown thus far and I’m aiming to break that silence. Look for that in the next couple of days.

I’ve also updated the [words] page with my latest publication in Cram 6, one of my very, very favorite poems called “Crybaby.” This particular poem was actually the breaking point in my graduate poetry course with Professor Ai. I was an undergraduate accepted to her graduate course since I’d finished all the undergraduate poetry course work avaliable at OSU. To make a long story short, before I submitted this poem for class review I was writting how I thought a poet “should” write, aka turning in mediocre, safe poems that were met with lukewarm reviews at best, completely torn apart at worst. Then one day I met a boy with insane hair and maple-colored eyes and spent one long afternoon in the student union fantasizing about him. This poem is the result. It was met with fierce love/hate reviews but regardless, one of my peers, Scott, stopped me after class and thanked me for writing it. From then on I never settled. In fact, I might dedicate a blog post to this poem in the future. I’m in love with it just as I might or might not be in love with the character. You can read it here.

Lots of shit coming up in the next few weeks, Orphans. Again, super, super busy but the circus doesn’t stop. You’ll want to make sure you join us by subscribing in a feed or via email. Trust me, I’m better at doing what I do than your last girlfriend was at satisfaction. Believe that.

PS. Had to work on a couple of things and during that time some of my “I just need the airfare and I’m gone” posts vanished. If you missed them you can find them here and here.

On this great day of our 44th president’s inauguration, I have a publication update:

Editor CJ Laity at Chicagopoetry.com informed me this morning that I am one of thirty-three poets to be included in the new issue of CRAM magazine! Apparently the response to the open-call for poetry was completely overwhelming this time around, and I’m guessing it’s because Chicagopoetry.com is one of the finest sites for poetry on the internet. They’ve been nothing but good to me, and do an excellent job of keeping those in the area up-to-date on artistic happenings around ChicagoLand.

For volume 4, I’m honored to be included with other fine artists, from Australia, South Korea, the United Kingdom and of course, my beloved Chicago.  An excerpt from the email:

Congratulations on being selected for inclusion in the publication Cram 4, which will be distributed free to the public at this year’s AWP Conference in Chicago, and at other public literary events. There will be 400 copies of Cram printed up. We hope to have the book printed up by the end of the month, so that we can distribute some advance copies at this year’s marathon poetry reading at Woodland Pattern bookstore in Milwaukee. A copy of the publication will also be mailed to you free of charge if you can’t personally pick it up at one of the release events. Additional copies will be made available for the cost of shipping and handling, if you are out of town and would like multiple copies. You can find information about how to do that in the upcoming days at Chicagopoetry.com

I will update all of you when copies are finally available, so you can grab one before they’re gone for good. CRAM is hand-made by editor CJ Laity, and truly are collector’s items. For merely the cost of shipping you can own a copy of one of the best independent and non-profit publications in the Midwest! Details to come.

(You can view the [words]” section above, and find my entry for volume 2 of the series, titled “He’s a Drummer by Trade.”)

No clue who the artist is. It wasn't me however. I <3 Google Image Search.

The poem they’ve chosen for publication is one I first wrote during my senior year of college at Oklahoma State University entitled “My Own Lord Henry.” (The poem has seen several revisions since.) The title comes from a character in the Oscar Wilde book “The Portrait of Dorian Grey.” I became obsessed with the delightfully sinful Lord Henry Wotton character. His jaded demeanor and the almost sadistic way he latched on to Dorian aroused me. Henry had seemingly done it all; he’d eaten, fucked, smoked, drank and talked his way into bitterness. This was the passage that sparked the poem:

“I represent to you all the sins you have never had the courage to commit…I have known everything, but I am always ready for a new emotion. I am afraid, however, that, for me at any rate, there is no such thing.” -Lord Henry

At the poem’s inception, I’d met a man much like Henry, and wanted very badly to prove to him that I could be that thing to shake his tired heart awake, that I was a menu he’d never tasted. How that story ends, well, you’ll just have to keep reading. In keeping with the spirit of my adolescent Pumpkins saga and promised tales of meeting Amanda Palmer…I’ll tell you about Henry as well. You might fall in love. Or hate. Either way is fine with me.

Details on much, much more soon, but I must be off now to serve alcohol to alcoholics. Vice is one of my favorite things.