Sometimes I feel jealous of Arda Collins.

Then I watch Micky-Mick struttin’ and remember: Arda can’t do this.

2 Comments. Filed under California Fetish, Hippie Shit, O.P.P.

Below is a select list of nouns that appear both in Mother and in L.J. Moore’s Play-Doh retro, Sgt. Pepper-clever, monster mash of poems: F-STEIN.

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2 Comments. Filed under California Fetish, O.P.P.

The riveting conclusion to our 2.5-part series.

In our first installment twittering poets wrote about the impact of social networking on their craft. One commenter wrote of the post: “It makes me feel like throwing up…I don’t even know what Twitter is, and I don’t want to know. Sounds like stupid shit. I came here to read about Richard Hugo.”

Self-loathing was imminent. And yet we soldiered on…

In installment 1.5 Brandon ‘Scott’ Gorrell expounded on the techniques of various twittering writers he admires and read the tea leaves of my Twitter style as well (‘confused,’ ‘tired’). He also addressed the proliferation of  ‘scare quotes’ and took what may be his first public step in becoming a more streamlined  ‘Brandon [no Scott] Gorrell.’

Now, for the eye-popping finale, we go the way of so many poets and move on to prose. Below, some of the liveliest twittering prose writers of our generation send this baby home!

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4 Comments. Filed under Information Age of Hysteria, O.P.P.

Last summer, I curated a reading at Polestar for Brandon Scott Gorrell and other members of the Muumuu House extended family. Brandon is the author of the poetry collection During My Nervous Breakdown I Want to Have a Biographer Present. On Twitter he is @LydiaDavis. I like these.

The reading was July 4^th weekend. Two people came. The Muumuus grew silent. They were young, vegan-thin, styled by Vice. I was turning 30, eating animal byproducts on the sneak, looking extra-Jewy. Sorry, I said.

Months later, I wondered what Brandon thought of me. Did he ever think of me at all? Was I at fault for the poor showing on The Lower East Side, or could we all shoulder the blame? One question in particular kept me chewing the Nicorette late into the night: Could I get to the bottom of those ‘scare quotes’?

I had an opportunity to email with Brandon for my last post: Richard Hugo Didn’t Twitter, in which I asked a number of poets how Twitter has affected their craft. Brandon’s response stood out from the fray. I saw my moment. Went Bill Moyers on him:

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8 Comments. Filed under Information Age of Hysteria, Neuroses, O.P.P.

Triggering Town or Trending Topic?

Tao Lin, who is more prolific than Lil Wayne, recently had this to say on Twitter:

someone fb msg’d me re ‘writing tips’ re ‘being focused,’ seems like all i was able to suggest was to ‘not have friends’

I find Lin’s suggestion curious. The energy I spend pre-meditating my tweets (yes) distracts me more from the process of writing poems than does any genuine interaction with other members of the species. On Twitter, I dumb down a notch and ham it up two. I don’t calculate syllabics; I calculate followers. I’m no longer writing for my ideal audience (Jewish girls with a junkie fetish) (me). I’m writing for everyone. I feel like Joan Rivers on HGH.

Below, I’ve conducted a little survey of other poets on Twitter to see what they have to say about if/how Twitter has affected their craft:

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14 Comments. Filed under Information Age of Hysteria, O.P.P.

My book launch party* is 4 pm this Sunday, February 7th at Polestar–a poetry series I curate at the lovely CakeShop. (Yeah, it’s a little weird that I’m reading at my own series. Whatev.)

In honor of Polestar (now in its 18th installment–rock!) I’ve put together a few tips for those of you looking to run a reading series of your own. Here we go.

1. Be sure to choose a venue with an ice machine that sounds like a DeWalt hammer drill. Ice machine should have no off-switch. For optimum effect, ice machine will go into high gear when your most prominent, and/or well-connected poet is reading.

2. Your venue should have a microphone that flickers on and off throughout the reading at random. For added flair, you may want to work with a microphone that gives out entirely.

2b. Never completely figure out the microphone or speaker system.

3. Give your reading series a name that could also connote a strip club.

4. When requesting a poet to give a reading, always copy and paste the email you sent to the prior poet verbatim. This way, you can address Henri Cole as “Dear Ms. Marvin” and Marie Howe as “Please forward to Arda Collins.”

4b. If you happen to address a certain beloved and lauded octogenarian poet by the wrong name in your query email, you’re encouraged to add: P.S. Would you consider blurbing my book?

4c. When you don’t hear back from the beloved and lauded octogenarian poet (we’ll call her The BLOP), ask the most hypersensitive poets in the community if she is still “with us.”

4d. Rest assured that you will soon see The BLOP’s newest collection at St. Marks Books. Consider Tupac Shakur and his many post-humous releases. Then consider that The BLOP is alive and well. She’s just avoiding you because she thinks you are lame.

5. Yes, absolutely include a bloody glove in your initial website design.

6. In preparing the poets’ bios, there’s no need to learn how to correctly pronounce Pleiades or “Nurkse.”

7. Make sure to host the hippest poets on July 4th weekend. This way, when no one shows up, you get to experience their judgemental silence in its pure, undiluted form.

8. Spend time making friends with your shame.

9. Come to terms with the fact that everyone dreads a poetry reading.

9b. Come to terms with the fact that you especially dread a poetry reading.

10. Keep the thing damn thing afloat anyway. After all, that hot dish from your MFA program shows up every time.

10b. If you are following instructions correctly, the dish should move to Berlin very soon.

* Again, can we call it a party if people have to buy their own drinks? Questionable.

3 Comments. Filed under O.P.P., Polestar

I recently had the privilege of seeing the great Jayne Cortez perform at City College. I’m no expert when it comes to performance poetry, but Jayne is the O.G.

During the portion of the evening where students get to ask her our asinine questions*, someone asked who her influences are. She responded: “I’m not influenced by ANYONE.” ‘Nuff said.

I’m totally obsessed with this poet. Yet I gleefully engage on a daily basis in behavior that she would likely deem toxic, anti-feminist, corporate, and/or plain old poopoo.

I know I’m not alone in letting down the artists I admire. Take legions of Morrissey fans in the 80s and Where’s the Beef?

In honor of diversity, and because it’s feckin’ fun, I’ve comprised a list below of things I love that Jayne Cortez would probably hate:

1. Chuck Bass

2. Chuck Bass & Blair Waldorf : the special moment

3. Chuck Bass man-on-man action

4. OPI Axxium color gel manicure (stays on forev)

5. Norbit 

6. Nike iD (love me my Pegasus+ 25 iD sneaks in all-black with silver swoosh)

7. Who? What? Wear?

8. Marie Robinson at Sally Hershberger

9. Nicorette (2 mg please)

10. Bergdorf’s 5F

11. “Chrome Plated Woman” 

12. Spanking The Monkey (rivals Harold and Maude, and I don’t say that lightly)

14. Perfekt

15. “Wouldn’t Get Far” (floatin’ away on the hood of a Camry)

16. Harold and Kumar: Escape from Guantanamo

*This is reminiscent of when I saw Fiona Apple at The New Yorker festival and Sasha Frere-Jones asked her all of these random questions, like: what do you eat for breakfast? (not that I don’t want to know) (and fyi: she doesn’t eat eggs) when there’s really only one question for Fiona Apple: Is it worth it to be so crazy to be so talented?

3 Comments. Filed under Bergdorf's, Hippie Shit, O.P.P.

I don’t know.

I feel like I’m supposed to be tweeting the Twit now that the book is 15 days from publication. But I just don’t see myself going peacefully into the dull night of the “Really, Massachusetts? Really?” or “OMFG hahahahaha LMAO BRB LOL!!!!!!!” or “Seriously, dry cleaners? Seriously?” crowd anytime soon.

So for now, I’m running a semi-structured alphabetic poetics experiment from aboard my ‘tweet deck.’ [UPDATE: This didn’t last. Though I did make it all the way backwards to the letter “A.” Once.] Yeah. I figure banal posts about other people people’s poetry (O.P.P.?) can at least be classified as benevolent.

Sounds enticing, eh?

I must admit, though, that it’s tempting to twit the Twat every time I, say, have a thought. Here are some of the tweets I’ve restrained in the past two days, since ‘going public’ on Twitter:

Meditated this morning next to an open toilet.

Apparently my guinea pigs are now too upmarket for baby carrots.

Nicorette in yoga class makes for spicy Savasana.

Yoga Journal hates you.

I hate water.

Guinea pigs now too upmarket for baby carrots AND apple.

Don’t be afraid to brush curls and transform into Stevie Nicks.

Lady on A Train has bottle of Purell carabinered to her purse.

I still love you junkies.

Guinea pigs resemble Puffy and Biggie. The nasty one will surely outlive the sweet one.

Why shouldn’t she be nasty? Consider the collective unconscious of the guinea pig.

Book proof just arrived UPS!!!

Does book resemble a pamphlet?

Crying to publisher (via text)

Spin teacher really believes we are on the open road.

Publisher going to upgrade paper stock!

Why is that Misshape always at Souen?

Why am I always at Souen?

Mother and Mother-in-law are running viral grandchild marketing campaign.

Blackberry has now officially merged with hand. Hanberry. Bland?

1 Comment. Filed under Guinea Pigs, Information Age of Hysteria, Neuroses, O.P.P.