Not right wing, not conservative; just scared and sad.

Posted on January 3, 2012 by JSB

All this GOP stuff is such a scary joke, isn’t it. Makes me kind of depressed. I know that’s an understatement. But I was reading what Meryl Streep said about how these nutjobs have hijacked the conservative party in the US and it’s true. The debate just isn’t serious any more. Another understatement. But I’m a serious person. I like my nuts to be serious about their politics. Like Jerry Lewis. And Mary Tyler Moore. Not folks like Sarah Palin saying Obama should have had a Christmas tree on his card. That’s not politics. It’s just embarrassing. It’s a kind of psychic terrorism. A terrible numbing dumbing down.

No. Give me Mary Tyler Moore any day. Saw the last show in the series last night on cable. Wow. I don’t think any of us realize just how radical this chick, this show was in its day. Compare Mary’s take on marriage to the reactionary right as espoused by Michele Bachmann.

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WTF?

Posted on December 5, 2011 by admin

At the beach the other day, this chick was plucking out her ass pubes with her fingers. What’s with that?

And now it’s raining all the time. The air is cold but humid. I want to wash my hair every day. I felt like a slug at yoga. The animals are going nuts.

 

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In progress: Moonshine

Posted on December 2, 2011 by JSB

A body-swap story inspired by Shelley, not just Frankenstein, but also “The Transformation,” a tale I read a while ago and which really got me by the throat. What I love about the story is that the Doppelganger and the protagonist get all mixed up in the end, bits of one left behind in the other.

Because, you know, it’s not always easy to say which is which—the good self and the bad. Which the harbinger and which the savior?

Pulp never lies.

Anyway, the story is set just outside my home town, a place I’ve renamed Union Falls in previous work, near Moonshine Falls, NY. My friends and I used to hang out at the falls when we were kids. Ride our bikes there and splash in the gullies, wear bright clothing so the poachers’ rifles wouldn’t get us. It was remote and wild and scary as hell. Those were good summers. We’d head out after breakfast and come home for dinner, maybe. Maybe call from a friend’s place where we’d stopped for a plate of whatever their mom had going. Or maybe just grill us some cheese and take it upstairs to where someone’s big brother would be watching TV and sucking on a joint next to the open window. And always the lake.

In my dreams I’m always on Route 90 heading toward that place and the lake is to my left, so I’m heading north, and I always wake up just before I get there.

 

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New Look Site

Posted on December 1, 2011 by JSB

White is the new black, right?

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Women Writing the Weird: Out Now at Dog Horn Press

Posted on November 9, 2011 by JSB

"Women Writing the Weird"As promised, WWW launched on Halloween. I don’t have my copy yet, but you can get it here. I’m excited to see my story, “Lion Man,” out and proud and in such great company…am prepared to be amazed by my colleagues.

Also out and about is my poem, ‘Some Kind of Monster,’ at Go(b)et Magazine. Very cool brave new publication putting out stuff, the likes of which you won’t see anywhere else.

The novel has gone to the agent, which leaves me with a huge amount of time on my hands. Plenty to do, just not the motivation to do it.

A few things have got me excited. Jeff and Ann Vandermeer’s new site, Weird Fiction Review. I read John’s Pelan’s piece on First Ladies of Fear, namely Mary Dale Bruckner and Greya La Spina, which inspired me to download Old Mr Whiley onto my kindle. Reading it now; it’s creepy. But the site is top drawer as you’d expect. Definitely a time thief, but hey, I got time.

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Dead Zone

Posted on November 3, 2011 by JSB

I will
I will not revert
This, the beginning will begin
the whole new first days
of light
I am in control born
again
strong, no longer
(or still slightly)
in recovery
post traumatic
sex starved food starved wine coffee pills
work-crazed altitude sickness non-stop
doubt and words creaming coming non-stop

But now this stillness
I am cleaning the fridge
(the novel is written)
I have ordered new seal for the door
of the fridge
Sticky jars from last year stuck to the door
of the fridge
ghee
I will cook with ghee
again

The iPhone chimes incoming
from the Flight Centre
I will book our trip
New Zealand or Hong Kong
We will go away
I will not write I will not teach myself
to write again
I will lie by the pool (if Hong Kong)
I will hike (Queenstown)
not miss the kids
not miss my work

not feel cleaved
from everything that makes me real.

I will cook with ghee.

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When Genres Attack, guest post

Posted on October 24, 2011 by JSB

… The agent totally gets it. As a prolific writer of poetry that involves everything from crop circles to telekinesis, he totally gets writing that fuels a desire for ‘another world, and yet one to which we feel the tie.’  Borrowing from Melville. That Melville…

read more of my post at this blog here

And a lot more happening besides. Editing the ms now, then will return to the blogosphere to reclaim my social mediocrity!

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It sings: Vernon Frazer’s new poetry on G(ob)bet

Posted on October 21, 2011 by admin

Man, this will rock your socks off:

…

Whistles in the night

forebode the telling murmur, a half-sea dread

regal as the perch of bottled urgency whose

natal settings cast in a single stanza left to graze

the stagnant meat of its heart-felt emporium….

See more here.

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Mark Lawrence’s post on Clarion: Read it and weep, and cheer.

Posted on September 25, 2011 by JSB

http://clarionfoundation.wordpress.com/2011/08/30/guest-blog-mark-lawrence-author-of-prince-of-thorns/

I’ve been meaning to post this for ages, but [excuse here]. Mark Lawrence is the author of Prince of Thorns, which I have yet to read, and will as as soon as [explain here]. But no, I will. It’s in my Amazon cart, just waiting for my VISA card to roll over. Needless to say it’s getting raves. But wait. Read Mark’s guest post on Clarion Blog first. Now. And tell me if you didn’t cry, give god the finger, and then effing get back to work.

With a vengeance. For all the needy sons and daughters out there, and all the Mister and Ms Marks jotting, and sketching, and notating, and humming at 4 am in hospital waiting rooms everywhere.

I’ve been inspired by a few people lately. Mark is one of them. I don’t want to resort to the old, ‘if he can do it, then anyone can.’ Because anyone can’t. Being up against it does not make you a good writer. But if you are already amazing—as Mark is, and if you don’t believe me, then check out some of his stories, here—AND you’re up against it, and still manage to be amazing, then you are an inspiration to the rest of us. So thanks Mark, for sharing, and for actually caring enough about art, along with all your other cares—to take the time to inspire us. Yeah.

Dad, and Mam, and me. We made a trio, there in our borrowed black, him cursing God for the taking of a baby, me with the laughing gas and the tears rolling down my cheeks, and Mam twisting so slow on an invisible wrack, every muscle at war with every other, and no sound escaping past her teeth.

Mark Lawrence, from ‘During the Dance’

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Check this out: soundtrack to Zaknussemm’s Reverend America

Posted on September 14, 2011 by JSB

With Eric Wyatt on sax, featuring the images of Matt Bialer, music by Matt Revert, and words by Kris Saknussemm. I think that’s everybody. Such talent!

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