My friend, Michael Inscoe, has published "What the Fuck Does 'In Real Life' Mean If You Live In Front of Your Computer?" at his literary site, unsure if i will allow my beard to grow for much longer. Thank you, Michael. Includes the line "'What I mean is, you'd look good in baggy pants and a crop top, or something'" and the line "life is so stupid and exciting, yes."
My friend Steve Roggenbuck's forthcoming book/website, DOWNLOAD HELVETICA FOR FREE.COM, now has an official cover, by Osy Chung of Hong Kong.
Steve has also started a new tumblr called INTERNET POETRY and has released a doctrine explaining the thoughts and intentions behind the tumblr, which will publish submissions of internet poetry presented/created/distributed via guerilla tactics.
I just started reading Quartet by Jean Rhys. I have a shortage of books I really want to read on my bookshelf. I have read a lot of the books I picked up at used bookstores over the years, and I'd like to have new books/new authors to read.
I want to read The Posthumous Memoirs of Bras Cubas by Joaquim Maria Machado de Assis.
I want to read A Certain Lucas by Julio Cortázar.
I want to read more Bolaño.
I wish there were more authors I knew I wanted to read.
The more I think about the book(s) I want to write, the more I am unsure what I want to read, what I like to read.
I know I like when books make me laugh. I reread the opening to The Catcher in the Rye the other day, and I laughed the hardest I've ever laughed while reading it, at nearly every line.
I know I like in Beckett how the lines are striking and beautiful but also sad and alone and brusque and gallows.
I want to read and write things that fill me up and excite me about knowing people and being alive, that make small mysterious gestures.