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My dick is a disaster area.

My dick is scared it has a Mrs. Robinson vibe.

My dick is talking about a dark web & where each strand meets is a black sapphire.

My dick is paranoid?

My dick is trying to “become whole.”

My dick features a recording of the ocean.

My dick lives by the ocean but it needs the recording to relax.

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Paul Tunis (aka da man) and I collaborated on a comic at The Rumpus. But really I just wrote like 20 words and he spun them into a hot pink & black existential inferno that manages to incorporate a giganto guinea pig, hot punk twinks & the Manson fam into a window at Bergdorfs.

Next, some Dutch people got ahold of the comic and posted it on what looks to be a VERY hip and ‘relevant’ blog out of Amsterdam.  Feel hip. Feel relevant. Feel #ontzagwekkend. Have fooled the Dutch.

Also at The Rumpus is a super-thoughtful review of MEAT HEART by Matthew Zingg.

Made a mixtape for Electric Literature called HOW TO AVOID A POETRY READING

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Poem called EVERY MOOD I’M IN IS THE ONE I’LL BE IN FOREVER

Poem called WILL TRUST MY INNER GUIDE WHEN THE INTERNET IS EXTINCT

Poem called WANT SOMEONE TO YELL AT U FOR APPROPRIATING FEATHERS SO I CAN FEEL INDIE FOR NOT APPROPRIATING FEATHERS

Poem called CAME ON GOD’S DICK

Poem called YOUR ALAN WATTS INSTAGRAM MAKES ME WANT TO DIE NOTHING AGAINST ZEN I JUST DON’T KNOW HOW TO LAUGH WITHOUT WATCHING MYSELF LAUGHING

Poem called ROMEO AND JULIET WERE CODEPENDENT BUT WHATEVS

Poem called FLOATING DOWN A RIVER OF HATERADE IN A SWEET PINEAPPLE BOAT

Poem called EXPRESS BUS AWAY FROM WHITE PEOPLE MAKING WAKA FLAKA PUNS

Poem called MY SYMBOLIC EXPRESSION IS A TEMPLE OF THE DOG CD AND A FIBER MUFFIN

Poem called PLAYING FOOTSIE WITH THE COMPULSION TO TOTALIZE

Poem called I HAVE SUSTAINED MY BEAUTY FOR 32 YRS AND AM GOING ICE FISHING

Poem called VANITY REASSERTS ITSELF WHEN PAIN RECEDES

Poem called AVE MARIAS TO A CHUNK OF TOMATO STUCK INSIDE AN OYSTER SHELL

Poem called WHY ISN’T MY PROJECTION ON YOU REAL?

Poem called ONLY GOING TO EUROPE SO I CAN SAY IT

Poem called INTERNET ADDICTION IS AN ARCADE OF DIVINITY

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Did the Other People podcast. Topics include: stalking, all-girls schools, self-piercing, shrooming, Pink Floyd laser light shows, darkness, excesses, adrenaline, panic, and the commodification of New Age spirituality. Honestly, this is worth listening to just for Brad Listi’s 10 minute monologue on Fassbender’s penis and its relationship to the human condition.

Jennifer L. Knox interviewed me, Sommer Browning, Amy Lawless, Sharon Mesmer and Rachel Shukert about being funny.

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What materials were used to make the image?

Flesh, sneakers, hair, mouth, eyes.

What else?

Breath. Pizza. A father. A brother. Korean girls.

What did you do to the image?

I kissed it. I traced its hand for seven minutes in a dark room. I linked its arm in the rain. I kissed it again. I buried my face in its neck.

Did the image have any concerns?

Yes. It wanted to be more than an image.

Did you have any concerns?

Yes. That the image breathed on its own.

Is an image capable of feeling?

Yes. Only what I want it to feel.

Is an image capable of feeling?

Yes. Only what it feels.

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Want to get hard like a dog no I want to melt.

God can be a he tonight.

Was told not to use god anymore, that it is a crutch, please forgive me if you agree.

Evidence shows you should go to the desert for serotonin reuptake exhibition.

I AM GOING TO THE OCEAN.

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LOOK WHAT PATRICK SOMERVILLE SAID ABOUT MEAT HEART IN FLAVORWIRE SMALL PRESS RECS YEAH!

Meat Heart by Melissa Broder is unbelievable and overwhelming for its imaginative power alone, but if you listen past the weird you can hear all sorts of things: sadness, seriousness, life, death, and a whole lot of laughter. I love it. Broder is a tremendous talent and I’m glad that book exists.”

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Want to grow a dick and write about dark forests.

Want to grow a nice dick and write about dark forests.

Want to grow a big dick and write about dark forests.

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Tonight I am supposed to do a reading.

I have laryngitis.

I am going to cough up a shimmer.

I am going to cough up a need in the field of emotional curfew.

Who built this field?

Certain Christians cannot tolerate weakness.

I am so longing for my personal Jebus.

He is growing crystals on another field.

Only true masters can eat there.

Everyone is a true master.

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Girls named Ana are forbidden not to have hot moles on their necks.

I’m still riding October 1998 and it’s fine.

I want to do to words what Pink Floyd did to me.

Remember when all the Anas in the world had bad trips under a flight of stairs?

I might still get a pair of Ray-Bans 1000 years late.

I will be an Ana yet.

I hope this is the last blog post I ever make.

How are you?

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I recently adopted this little guy through World Vision. I am very excited about my new little friend and hoping that my measly sponsorship dollars are blessed and stretched to their maximum potential. I want this boy fed and educated at the end of every day.

Nothing would make me happier than to go to this parking lot,  grab him up in my arms, and bring him home, but I guess for now, letters and tiny care packages will have to do. Please  keep in mind that thousands of other beautiful skinny boys in pink bunny ears sprawled supine in a parking lot are still waiting to be adopted. Hallelujah!

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Mama Cass climbs a red rope liquorice into the arms of St Teresa who dreamt it all on a bus to Des Moines.

I am trapped under a god-size hair dryer with every woman ever wondering how to love each other.

I ate a candy necklace dipped in brill cream off the neck of an emo buddhist and he blessed me.

I talked about making out with readers in the L magazine.

I am playing spin the bottle with 3 failed memes and a feminine archetype.

The perfect storm of synapses is invite-only.

I talked to JA Tyler about abyssness, moreness and not-enoughness.

I will follow friday into a forest of twizzlers.

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A human, we’ll call him Mickey Dolenz, emailed me this:

You Are Very Aware
YAVA.
And I wonder what your belief system is.
Not limited to the societal understanding of belief system.
Life after death?
Do you belief in A God. Or Gods. Or the universe as a being attempting to understand itself?
Quantum physics? Entanglement?
YAVA, and I feel you have sat and astral projected beyond yourself, or have experienced… things one may call “supernatural” (ie, prophetic dreams, instinctual knowings, etc).
No?

I wrote this back:

I believe in a god I don’t understand. The relationship changes every day. Some moments I am an active participant. Other times (most times) I take my will back entirely. Faith is a muscle I work b/c I have to in order to stay alive [and have some shot at serenity]. It’s one area I don’t analyze b/c I cannot afford to. I don’t have any one religion or belief-system but there are wonderful people who have helped me along the way and continue to help me–an American religion if you will. And yes, I’ve had peak experiences and cosmic experiences. But the most lasting spiritual experiences, and the ones I’ve integrated and continue to integrate best, are of the slower, less flashy variety.

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PUBLISHERS WEEKLY SAYS THIS ABOUT MEAT HEART:

…Broder’s second collection cranks up the weird by mining the grotesqueries of her speakers’ relationships with men, god, the self, and food. That these elements often become indistinguishable–as in “Ciao Manhattan,” where “It is so god/ When the voice is like wheat// Spooned wheat/ In whole milk”–is evidence of Broder’s talent for showing us our contemporary conflict: god is both a haven from the grotesque and the name we rail against when we aren’t safe from it. But Broder is smarter than to suggest that there are only two sides to this dilemma. Out to “crucify boredom,” her poems show us how any relationship with the divine is no less at risk of engendering grotesque lust. “Yesterday the worship rattled like an engine,” she writes, and “God keeps unfurling me/ with god’s gigantic helium.” What makes Broder such a pleasure on the page is her insistence that these dramas play out on a workaday stage infused with surreal Pop and imaginative muscle. “When the last Beatle dies,” she tells us in “Ringo,” “the president hits a kill switch/ and all our possessions/ drift like eyelashes/ through a crack in the sky.” In Broder’s hands, it’s good to kiss them good-bye.

RYAN BRITT TALKS ABOUT MEAT HEART IN THE CONTEXT OF SCIENCE FICTION AT TOR.COM

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Last Sext

LAST SEXT

So Sad Today

SO SAD TODAY

"What separates Broder from her confessional cohort...is that she doesn’t seem to be out to shock, but to survive."
–Elle

"Broder presents a dizzying array of intimate dispatches and confessions…She has a near-supernatural ability to not only lay bare her darkest secrets, but to festoon those secrets with jokes, subterfuge, deep shame, bravado, and poetic turns of phrase."
–New York Magazine

"A triumph of unsettlingly relatable prose."
–Vanity Fair

"Her writing is deeply personal, sophisticated in its wit, and at the same time, devastating. SO SAD TODAY is a portrait of modern day existence told with provocative, irreverent honesty."
–Nylon

"At once devastating and delightful, this deeply personal collection of essays…is as raw as it is funny."
–Cosmopolitan

"Broder writes about the hot-pink toxins inhaled every day by girls and women...and the seemingly impossible struggle to exhale something pure, maybe even eternal...there's a bleak beauty in the way she articulates her lowest moments."
–Bookforum

"Broder may be talking about things like sexts, Botox, and crushes, but these things are considered alongside contemplations about mortality, identity, and the difficulty of finding substance in a world where sometimes it’s so much easier to exist behind a screen."
–The Fader

"…So Sad Today is uplifting and dispiriting in seemingly equal measure. It’s a book that’s incredibly human in the way it allows for deep self-reflection alongside Broder, which speaks not only to her powerful writing but also the internet’s magical ability to foster connections."
–A.V. Club

"...delightful...Broder embarks on an earnest, sophisticated inquiry into the roots and expressions of her own sadness...deeply confessional writing brings disarming humor and self-scrutiny...Broder's central insight is clear: it is ok to be sad, and our problems can't be reduced to a single diagnosis. "
–Publishers Weekly

"Broder is probably the Internet’s most powerful merchant of feelings…"
–GQ

"Vividly rendered and outspokenly delivered essays…Sordid, compulsively readable entries that lay bare a troubled soul painstakingly on the mend."
–Kirkus Reviews

"If Melissa Broder weren’t so fucking funny I would have wept through this entire book. Love, sex, addiction, mental illness and childhood trauma all join hands and dance in a circle, to the tune of Melissa’s unmatched wit and dementedly perfect take on this terrifying orb we call home."
–Lena Dunham

"So Sad Today is a desperately honest collection of essays, the kind that make you cringe as you eagerly, shamelessly consume them. Melissa Broder lays herself bare but she does so with strength, savvy, and style. Above all, these essays are sad and uncomfortable and their own kind of gorgeous. They reveal so much about what it is to live in this world, right now."
–Roxane Gay

Scarecrone

S C A R E C R O N E

"Broder manages to conjure a psychic realm best described as one part twisted funhouse and two parts Catholic school, heavy on libido and with a dash of magick. This gritty, cherry soda–black book...is bizarrely sexy in its monstrousness."
–Publishers Weekly

"I don’t know what a book is if not a latch to elsewhere, and Scarecrone has pressed its skull against the hidden door. It is neither drunk nor ecstatic to be here—it is a state unto itself."
–VICE

"Lushly dark and infused with references to black magic, Broder's work often feels less like a book and more like a mystical text."
–PAPERMAG

Meat Heart

MEAT HEART

"Out to 'crucify boredom,' her poems show us how any relationship with the divine is no less at risk of engendering grotesque lust...What makes Broder such a pleasure on the page is her insistence that these dramas play out on a workaday stage infused with surreal Pop and imaginative muscle..."
–Publishers Weekly

"With a title recalling Yeats...Broder risks the divine in her second book...shrewd, funny, twisted, sad poems..."
–The Chicago Tribune

"Meat Heart...is unbelievable and overwhelming for its imaginative power alone, but if you listen past the weird you can hear all sorts of things: sadness, seriousness, life, death, and a whole lot of laughter....Broder is a tremendous talent"
–Flavorwire

"...Meat Heart embodies that strain of sustenance, that sort of psychosomatic excitement most valiant art more or less tries to pull off…Her poems don’t bore or bear down. They beam oracle energy. They pump a music of visions for the life-lusty death dance."
–BOMB

Melissa Broder's Book Cover

MOTHER

“This debut from Broder is as funny and hip as it is disturbing… a bright and unusual debut.”
–Publishers Weekly

"…obsessive, energetic and pop-culture-infused poetry…"
–Time Out New York

"Broder’s insight and honesty will make your brain light up and your hair stand on end.”
–The San Francisco Examiner

"Broder’s verse is acrobatic and whip-smart… its own creature."
–Bomb