Thursdayness

More documentaries, apparently, always.

NEW YORK DOLL was pretty incredible, but I'm not sure if I'd want to watch it again. But I didn't know much about the New York Dolls, and it was interesting to kind of see a biopic in less than 1:30, though alas, there's a tragedy like there seemingly always is in every good documentary.

WESLEY WILLIS: THE DADDY OF ROCK 'N ROLL was a weird and gritty experience. Like I LIKE KILLING FLIES, the camera work was a bit jarring and lo-fi. I got over it pretty quickly. I didn't realize Wesley passed away in 2003, so that was news right before I saw this. There are some hilarious parts, like some recording sessions, and Wesley at Kinko's writing lyrics like "Suck a cheetah's dick with a bottle of Heinz ketchup." At one point, when they were playing some of his music in the background, Jess was out on the porch and said, "What the hell is that?" upon hearing, "Never kill an apeeee...!" It gives you the inherent Wesley Willis experience, and it's only about an hour long, so it's definitely worth seeing.

Blowing me away recently, though, was HOW TO DRAW A BUNNY. I didn't know anything about Ray Johnson before I saw it, and in a way I'm glad I didn't. The dude was undoubtedly a brilliant and committed artist, and the filmmakers do an amazing job splicing interviews with actual collages and artwork. Some is mind-blowingly bizarre and beautiful. I won't ruin the premise and the why's of the film, but I'm probably going to buy it soon. There's a commentary and some other stuff. But it was a project of love for the filmmakers, so it seems, and the life of Ray Johnson is inspiring, but in some ways hard to wrap your mind around, which is some of the point I think.

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In the poetry department, I just got my contributor copies of Faultline. Not really to my surprise, I'm in another journal with friend and former VCU MFAer Jonathan Rice, who's been winning contest after contest for his poems. After reading much of the poetry, I'm kind of surprised they ended up taking my two poems. Most of the work seems highly experimental, and my poems are anything but.

But there's some interesting work in there, some nice-looking full color artwork (there's so much artwork in journals these days that I wouldn't mind hanging on my wall). On the cover and interspersed within the pages are cool little minimalist cartoons.

I'm pretty thrilled they took some work, as I always am with journals who are willing to spare the ink. It would've been nice to see Blake's piece, but he had a bit of an interesting and I suppose slightly annoying debacle with them. I think we're going to be in the next Lake Effect, though, so that's cool.

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I also traded manuscripts with another friend and former VCU MFAer, Anna Journey. She's been a finalist in a few contests for her manuscript, and I wouldn't be surprised if any day now she's bringing the good news.

It was nice to see work we've both seen of each other's in workshop. I remember the first day we all turned in these awful poems, but they all were representative of our up and coming obsessions and thematics. Per a recent post, I think all of us (the 6 who came in together) wrote the poems we wanted to, and even if we weren't thrilled about the work all of us were writing, we were all supportive and tried to be helpful. Again, I'm very lucky, and I think we all were.

She pointed out some obvious things that previously I was stupidly tenacious about, but I think the kick in the ass spawned the drive into overhaul city. I completely rearranged my manuscript, put it back into three sections, cut some poems, and I think it's the best it's ever been. Here's to hopeful screeners and judges in the rest of 2008.

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The new GIRL TALK record dropped today. Apparently Greg Gillis stole the name from one of the best Full House episodes. If you're in the know, you know. If not, then shame on you.

The record's dirty and full of hip hop and pop mash-up goodness. I think this is the record that's going to stop me from being a tight ass about, mostly, current pop music. After already a few listens (and I'll be the first to admit this kind of music isn't my first choice), I don't know why it took me so long to get into this shit. Plus there's a lot of melodic tracks from The Police, Tom Petty, Dexy's Midnight Runners, Carole King, The Beach Boys, Temple of the Dog, and about a minute through "Let me See You," some choice moments from perhaps my favorite song of all time, Fleetwood Mac's "Gypsy." All of it amidst older, current, and sometimes vulgar, culled hip hop lyrics.

It's going to be a great summer record. And it's fun as hell. I'm sorry it's taken me this long. I don't know if I'm apologizing to myself. I think I may be.

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And fucking finally, Sean got two VIP tickets for THE NATIONAL on Sunday @ Richmond's Natioanal Theater. I live less than 3 miles from this place. In the words of Ari Gold: BOOM!

Last time I saw them was in Carrboro with Goss on October 21st, 2005. It's been a long time. I wish they'd play "Guest Room," but I'm not sure that's going to happen.

VIP, though? You serious, Clark?

Next destination: Psychesville.

Notes Among

In the last month or so I got my contributor copies of Hayden's Ferry Review, Hunger Mountain, and Tusculum Review, and they all really impressed me a lot. I'm humbled and thrilled that the editors decided to take work, as I always am. There are a lot of journals that look great with not-the-best content, and shabby looking journals with amazing work. But sharp journals ALSO work reading -- and being included in that journal -- are the best. One thing I want to point out that I liked is Tusculum Review has a decent amount of poems where you have to turn the journal to landscape format: poems with very long lines that need the longer page. I really really love it because at this point there's no reason a journal should say, basically, "Make sure you don't send us long shit since we don't have much room." Get some more room, or turn it around. That's all that needs to take place, and I hope editors see this and realize it's a good way to do things. Now that I think about it, the recent Harpur Palate had a poem or two doing the same thing, and I've only seen this phenomenon recently. Writers with long lines or fragmentary poems shouldn't have to compromise their work and send it to certain journals. But hey, if they want to reject those writers for it, screw them, there are always enough places where you can send work.

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More and more I'm thinking how Drew Carey hosting The Price Is Right is another weird sign of the oncoming apocalypse (not to mention all of the weather-induced unspeakable madness since Katrina, which seems to be indefatigable). When my brother was at KSU, and DC was just a KSU dropout, he came back for some event and hung out with them and a few beers after a party when they were all hungover. No one knew him then. He was a kind of weird looking, funny, fat guy. Now he's a famouse kind of weird-looking, funny, fat guy. But he just doesn't fit. I thought Bob Barker would host until he died.

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The new Sigur Ros record is kind of boring. It's no TAKK in my opinion. The first two songs are great, but then it goes into coma-induced plodding, per usual. If you're going to start it anthematic, keep it that way. Otherwise people will be falling asleep at the wheel. Maybe that's just my relentless attitude.

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I used to love Tony Hoagland's "Jet," and I think WHAT NARCISSISM TO ME is pretty good, though it's lost it's weight for me the last few years. Here are the first six lines:

Sometimes I wish I were still out
on the back porch, drinking jet fuel
with the boys, getting louder and louder
as empty cans drop out of our paws
like booster rockets falling back to Earth

and we soar up into the summer stars.

There are few easy-going summer activities I like doing more than having a few beers on the balcony with friends. Since most of my MFA friends are dropping off the earth or are going crazy or whatever the hell they're doing, I have to either do it alone, which is nice since I can read and work on essays and my own work, or usually Sean comes over. Inevitably, and cliched I suppose, we end up having a great time and talking about interesting shit. It's always a good time.

But I feel like if Tony Hoagland was there he'd always be judging. "Why did you invite me over here if you're going to not talk to me?" Or "That's not how you're supposed to be sipping a beer." Maybe he's a great guy in person, but man, have I heard stories... though I've heard frequently he's a brilliant guy. His poetry doesn't express that to me, but I do want to get his book of essays. Maybe I'll meet him one day and he won't be like Phil Levine, who really is an asshole and chastised me for giving him a discarded first edition hardback of WHAT WORK IS to be signed my first year of my MFA a few years ago. "This is a LIBRARY BOOK!" he said, like I just tried to punch him in the face or kick him in the balls. That made a huge impression on me, and since I've mostly been involved with very humbling poets, whether it's how they present themselves when reading, or talking to them after, or getting books signed. Not everyone's like Phil Levine, thank God.

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Huge congratulations to Allison Titus (and no, the chapbook news is old, though good, and you should buy it if you haven't)! That's all I can say at this point... but I'm thrilled for her.

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I think my pictures of Joe Bolton need to go back on my wall. I put them on a corner part of the wall by the light switch at my old apartment. One of my favorite poems I've written is an elegy for him, and I'm going to blanket the world until someone wants to publish it. If you don't know his work, it should blow your mind. And if it doesn't, you suck. He killed himself when he was 28, which saddens me every time I think about. He'd be the poet everyone's talking about now...

Poetry Collections I'm Looking Forward to

Paul Guest - "My Index of Slightly Horrifying Knowledge" (Ecco Books)
Joshua Poteat - "Illustrating the Machine that Makes the World: From J.G. Heck's 1851 Pictorial Archive of Nature and Science" (University of Georgia Press/Virginia Quarterly Review)
Alison Stine - "Ohio Violence" (UNT Press)
Craig Arnold - "Made Flesh" (Ausable Press)
Adam Chiles - "The Evening Land" (Cinnamon Press)
Paul Otremba - "The Currency" (Four Way Books)
Brian Brodeur - "Other Latitudes" (University of Akron Press)
Karyna McGlynn - "I Have to Go Back to 1994 and Kill a Girl" (Sarabande Books)
Seth Abramson - "The Suburban Ecstasies" (Ghost Road Press)
Richard Greenfield - "Tracer"

And I'm hopeful for imminent collections by these poets:

Richard Siken
Corey Marks
Brian Teare
Mark Wunderlich
Andrew Feld
Allison Titus
Bobby C. Rogers
David Groff
Adam Clay
Leigh Stein