interview with Bebe Zeva

On December 18th, I emailed Bebe Zeva (microfamous fashion icon, Hipster Runoff model, and Twitter comedienne) 13 questions. She responded the next day with the following:

(photo by tolga katas via technorazzi)

travel suggestions for las vegas, NV

Book your hotel online. Stay near the Strip. Bring earplugs/ambien if you're a light sleeper. Get a room with a fridge and a view. Don't sit on the comforter on your bed without pants on if you stay somewhere cheap. If you don't smoke, pick up smoking during your stay. Dress to kill. Get drunk in public before noon. Carry identification, petty cash, and a credit card close to hand. Walk the Strip. Start early afternoon at the Fashion Show Mall and keep walking. Don't hurry. Take pictures of everything you see, which will include a lot of Asian people taking pictures. Give money to street performers. Don't give money to homeless people. Buy anything that sparkles. Try haggling with street vendors. Eat cheap food. The best buffet is at The Rio and ranges from 20-30 USD as of Dec. 2010 but there's street food everywhere. Walk through the Bellagio, City Center, The Cosmopolitan, and by the fake Eiffel Tower, the fake Pyramid, Camelot, and Caesar's Palace. Go to fake New York and ride the roller coaster (like 30 bucks). Accept all the business cards for hookers you will be handed by short Pacific Islanders in matching t-shirts. Invent a trading card game to play with your new deck. Go to a show if that's your thing. You can get half-price tickets at most hotels. Gamble only with cash and skip the 'player's card'. Play craps, blackjack, and roulette if you want to win money. Ignore the slots. Bring your own cocktail. Talk to strangers. Ask someone who looks knowledgable how to bet and ignore them if you want. Make up a different life story for yourself for each stranger you meet. Go dancing at some place with no cover or get cheap tickets from a promoter who will be yelling 'night clubs'. Don't go to the club until 1-2am. Order room service and pay-per-view porn. Trash your hotel room. Have sex but don't pay for it. Turn your phone off. When your friends ask you how your trip was, say 'fine'.

they're in the kitchen, I'm pressed against the door listening

dad isn't cool with the way I live my life in their house
dad told my brother to beat me up and mom yelled

mom and dad are talking about me in the kitchen
mom and dad are yelling about me in the kitchen

I'm pressed against the door listening, mom won't quit talking
dad is yelling, I call mom a cunt and now they are paying attention to me

I see something like fury in mom's eyes
she runs towards me while pulling off her pajama pants
pulling off her underwear, grabbing her vulva
fingers laced through ash blond pubes

this is my cunt, this is my cunt
you can't have it, it's taken

I don't want it

this is my cunt, this is my cunt

she's in my face with tears in her eyes
they never taught me what respect means

if you ever call me a cunt again, you will not walk through that front door
ever again

I say that I'm sorely tempted
I say pull your pants up

xxmass

neighborhood bad boy
fresh cinnamon apples spark fire
delicious clouds pouring flakes
and half and half into a bowl
the difference between black and white
icyhot leathered skin surfs couches
ramen, bean burrito, christmas card belly
full of sticks and cinders

there is a chapbook

I made a chapbook

here is the very first copy
it contains 10 pieces in 21 pages, weighs 4 ounces and is 4,222 words long








would you like one?

you can have one for $5 + whatever else you think it's worth 

(I will throw in some art/artifacts/other to those who donate  >$5)

I can ship it you internationally, but then please select the $11 option because the postage is more expensive.

Thank you readers for reading.

chapbook plain $5.00 chapbook grande $7.00 chapbook nacho supreme $11.00

David Foster Wallace - Suicide as a Sort of Present

the impossible cool

looks like bomb went off in here
yr spacebar is kind of sticky, yr
mom left u 9000 txt messages
and u need to take the garbage
out, please just get out of bed, it's
yr day off, fine, sure, but y
must u waste it, hairs on yr
neck are growing
apparently into whiskerz

Interview with Jordan Castro, Richard Wehrenberg Jr., and James Payne

On November 6th, 2010 at 12PM MST I interviewed 3 of the authors of the 4-way-split chapbook Assuming Size, published by Monster House Press. We conducted the interview via GChat. You can buy/read more about Assuming Size here.

interview with Julian Koster

of The Music Tapes and Neutral Milk Hotel

we talk about his tour of houses, recording techniques, and ipods.

download the unedited interview here:

http://www.mediafire.com/?1mymz54vhxua8p2

selections from the author's twitter account

A 3D printer can print a 3D printer.

1:14 PM Nov 3rd 

We got a fine for climbing the mountain and I was late for class.

3:26 PM Oct 26th 

Climbed the Organ Mountains between classes.

2:46 PM Oct 26th

Joining a pro life metal band.

8:25 PM Oct 22nd 

#ihatemyfollowers

5:43 PM Oct 22nd 

I run full speed into a glass window and my nose is ringing.

9:56 PM Oct 14th 

novicember

this month I will be writing a poem everyday
along with some good people that I know

you can read our poems here, if you'd like

airbrushed

I would just like to let the internet know
that I've been putting blue masking tape
on everything I own.

I don't know
maybe I am going to get a new paint job.

dead dog (very nearly severely depressed dog)

I am on the human's team
I hide them in my room
like Jews

I stride through packs
of zombies—they registered
to lose their brains on
social networking sites
—my skull held high

war is a stupid game
I fuck humans
like Nazis

college poem 514 of x

I always take the stairs two at a time
—that is the kind of person I am
everyone in the world wears all black
canvas shoes and I am in black sandals
so smooth I slip and slide and stumble
on sprinkler slick sidewalks
that is an example of alliterative genius
I'm just saying is all

GOD I LOVE IT WHEN WE ARE ALL JUST CONSTANTLY WRITING POEMS ABOUT EACH OTHER. OH MY GOD CAN WE JUST WRITE POEMS ALL THE TIME?

I just finished a notebook.
I feel like I just buried a child.
Outside the cowboys are roping
The newspaper box.
I cry out in the hallway
In pretend voices.

wrists

a cross you carved
in your arm
under the direction
of the holy spirit
has faded

you're left
with a broken compass
and a shitty scar

a blue rubberband
a watch
a silly band
and a reminder
'impossible is nothing'

it costs 5 cents to read this

to your right there is a pile of tasks which are almost done
I don't want them to leave so they remain unfinished
to your left is a stack of papers that I haven't started
I'm scared of what will be said of them so I'm writing them in my head
over there are some good books I'm in the middle of reading

below your feet are the bones of the people I'm through with
mind the gap
thank you for coming on this tour of my life
you can put your nickels in my eyes now, please

(or just paypal me)

I recorded 3 minutes of my thoughts.

battleship, rocket launcher, homemade explosive, bomb,  killing, death, time, old times, suzie birdsell, myself, amber rose weber, cameron ott, elizabeth aubert, hilary barker, the new york times, a blanket, a drawing I did of a blanket, a down comforter, brake pads, shoes, yellow, jiffy lube, wiffle ball, the word 'homeopathic', -pause-, queer love, struggle, afraid, anxiety, hurt, fear, confusion, queer life, death, -long pause-, -listening to the song playing -'the dream lives of ordinary people' by voxtrot-, thinking about a series of actions that made sense in my head but might not on paper, thinking about thinking in complete sentences, thinking about comma splices and my dear friend the infinite sentence that I am uttering, things I am stuttering, blubbering at you on a stucco porchway, is 'porchway' a word, whatever, am I overdoing it, bass line, radio show, toes, drums, -changed song to -syracuse by pinback--, metronomes, zach kenyon, confusion, fits of intellect, -editing this series of thought for spelling and punctuation-, feeling in a trance of editing, thinking about writing this down and what to do with this thing I am writing down, wondering what time it is -11:37PM-, checking the date -9.21.10-, sighing deeply, watching my fingers type and marveling that human fingers are evolving to manipulate electronics skillfully, thinking that my fingers are 'adroit', laughing at myself for thinking the word 'adroit', typing a period and then deleting it and adding a comma, thinking about where to insert the period, knowing where.

rhythms

say 'a void' out loud.
now repeat the word quickly.

september 11

today I am all sorts of personalities
yesterday I was autistic
today is Caturday

today is also September 11
watched footage of plane crashes
twin towers turning to snow
filmed by a woman yelling
'oh god
oh God'

tomorrow I keep
the Sabbath day holy
I will not put on
the finishing touch

rain of terror

seeking to inspire discouragement
was in revolutionary france
criminal

can't help but think of black holes
an inescapable pinprick
may compose this universe

all humming
e minor tunes
behind bars

bite off our toenails
spit them at each other

Interview with Brandon Scott-Gorrell

Brandon Scott-Gorrell is a 26 year old author living in Seattle, WA. He has written a collection of poetry entitled during my nervous breakdown i want to have a biographer present, published by Muumuu House, as well as two upcoming novels. He has also been published widely on the Internet.
He blogs here.

I interviewed Brandon on August 28th, 2010 via Google Chat.

sketchbook moths

click for big.

this is the future, I slide my ID to enter my room
a Mexican girl is riding her bicycle on a treadmill
inside and watching the Miss Universe competition

in the future everyone is sweating nervously
primed to jump for a knock at the door
primed to hide the Mexican girl under the bed
and anxious for Miss Mexico to rule the Universe

ichthus

give her a fishbowl
and she'll spend the days
staring in a circle

teach her to fish
and she'll circle the drain

on mosquitoes

if a wise tree throws
a mute rock at my dumb head
with no man around to hear
a sharp "fuck"

then on the newly red forehead beach
stretches out my only company,
equipped with straws, a buzz,
and a taste for me

headsong

I've been leaving little trains
of thought all over my bedroom
my mother, father, and friends
unfurl endless reprimands
I'm going to clean it up,
I'm going to get to it, I swear
but I'm going to have the complete set
of unfinished business if I keep this up

My brain's undone and
my cake's half-baked
and I'll finish this in a bit
but I've got something
else to


undertake.

no no no
even if you scrub
all the charcoal from your arms
it's still inside you
from that one time

you can step anywhere
without making a mark
but you can't stop stepping
into laser beams

_______________
blogging looks like:
(have mullet)
(stole 2 milk crates)
(drat)
(running?)
(cinnamon tic tacs are on sale)

receive chemistry

from jesus

XXXX

in a mailbox

and heelclick

-    -    -    -    -

bodies on the

same schedule as the

shuttlebus

XXXX

freaking out 

in an easychair

XXXX

at darkening skin

visible veins

XXXX

keep ticking

off those boxes

in boxes

I

tasked myself with
stripping mom's bedroom walls
of their hideous buffalo wallpaper
and have dragged the process out
for days
because I don't want to quit
daydreaming of
indians
      finding jesus.

if I stare into the computer
does the computer stare also
into me?

I leave my window open at night so I can breathe. Over waves of traffic sounds, I hear crackling radio voices sporadically. I focus very intently on making out the words, hoping for a dead voice's cunning to rouse me.

so....oak............35
window.....
....er
.....
chalupa.

there are bats in your head

the events that have transpired today
are clearly indicitive of some larger trend
clearly
until you can figure out what you want
you will never do anything
aside from freaking out in creative writing class
when asked what your characters want
you don't even have any

Sometimes a school of fish
disguised as a flock of birds
wanders somewhere
between the Panda Express
and the sunset
We stand on our feet for perhaps
the third time today
and praise life for entertaining us

a bike goes for a ride
because the disheveled,
unwashed hair likes to feel
the wind whip it
a german girl watches
the bike toss the hair
to the ground
she tells the bike in a firm
voice 'are you okay'
and appears a hole
in the dark skinny jeans
a google search
how to sew a hole
can't fix the damn thing

rhyme

I never take all anyone can give
but I can't just leave them whole
so I scrape until just a chunk is left
in bottom of the bowl

I am crying with fulfillment.

I am crying because you are another soul.

college poem y of x

they fixed the light
and while we're rejoicing
I'm cursing maintenance
for illuminating you

it's better when it's balls cold
and while they're complaining
I'm adoring the sensation
of being frozen slowly

you never understood shadow
it's why I didn't like your art

it's why you don't like me

I can accept this too
I can swallow it like I swallow liquor
their faces shine with pride when I glug
and never wince, never shudder

I will let my pubes grow long
let my heart turn into a frosted flake

it stings, and I am through with
all these fucking
ointments

a deer and a bear are wandering
in the half melted snow of my back yard
they brawl with each other alternating
with sprawling in sunbeams on their backs
would you like to play pretend
would you like to be the deer or the bear

half thrilled and half disappointed
in myself and my own power
and of course
pleased
with a powerpoint presentation
I made today entitled
things you deliberately set on fire
I spent a lot of time on the
transitions

the dear and the bare
with me through this shift this shit
that I have to shovel
before I can even think
about going outside to play with you
so why did you run off with my wheelbarrow
half full of half meant words stolen
from thoughts I invented for other people

jesus christ man
I didn't even mean it when I prayed
to the bike rack that night
for a savior

I don't care
I don't care
I don't care
I don't care
I don't care
I don't care
I don't care
I don't care
I don't care
I don't care
I don't care
I don't care
I don't care
I don't care
I don't care
I don't care

I am going to rename my small world
dogs you are now called safety and reassurance
sliding door can be forgiveness
the pile of filthy clothes that fall off my frame
is success
blankets will be validation
and that empty feeling that won't leave my lungs
I will call it friend for now
so the phlegm must be named
love