Sunday, March 31, 2013

M A K E I T V I V I D

Easter morn / altar out the foot of bed:  Virgin Maria Guadalupe

on Friday I went to see Jeff Mangum w/ DH.  Afterwards I went to Che's where lil Dicky Siken said I remind him of Condoleeza Rice & that he would trust me to run the country.

Courbet.  I oftentimes wish I could paint to break the monotony of write.

Friday, March 29, 2013

ADV PO 13 // START ON PAGE ONE AND WRITE LIKE A SONOFABITCH

THE LAST ADV PO SUPPER

THANKS POET MEG WADE FOR VISITING ADV PO


SCHEMING / W / JAMISON CRABTREE

TATIE WOODBOX

Tuesday, March 26, 2013

i would rather give full vent to all human loves and disappointments, and take a chance on being corny, than die a smartass. -UNCLE JIM HARRISON // ** C A R R Y O N

i like mondays & bike rides & long walks on the beach

The worst thing about academic writers and people who teach writing or living within an academic atmosphere is that it shears them of a base.  People think after they teach a while that academic life is a microcosm of the rest of the world, which it very clearly isn't.  It's terribly unhealthy for a writer, unless it's a writer of a particular kind.  Let's say if I just continued writing poetry I would have been cornered into having to take a teaching position.  Literally no one can make a living as a literary novelist.  ... The people in Morrill Hall bore me.  -J.H.

joy / love be coming in all kinds of diff pkges ** t u c s o n s p r i n g b e a l l a r o u n d

Festival en el Barrio 13!

Joe Novelli & these two DRs

bigg ole nerds

we had had 3+ beers / cheek apples much?!

Saturday, March 23, 2013

Look who's in the freakin' Atlanta Journal Constitution!! // Folks back home remember the Tri-State Crematory scandal?...



Crematory scandal sets author’s journey in motion


Brent Hendricks seeks closure in ‘A Long Day at the End of the World’


“The Greeks believed that the stage between death and burial — that in-between threshold of travel — required great diligence by the living in the form of ritual and interment. Only with this care could the dead make their way into Hades. Otherwise, an abandoned and unritualized body remained doomed to roam the banks of the River Styx, a shade with a name but no passage.”
So writes poet Brent Hendricks in his new memoir, “A Long Day at the End of the World.” It’s a book that ferries readers from this world to the next courtesy of a modern-day Charon who passes the time by debating the meaning of life and death.
Not only is it a journey into the heart of Hendricks’ own personal darkness, in prose as gorgeously ghoulish as a Hieronymus Bosch painting, but it’s quite possibly one of the most hallucinogenic, Southern Gothic road trips you’ll ever take.
The story begins with a version of Hades found right here in Georgia: the grounds of the Tri-State Crematory in rural Walker County, on the day in 2002 when authorities arrived to discover hundreds of uncremated and decaying bodies — one of which would turn out to be that of Brent Hendricks’ father.
Within days, investigators unearthed five years worth of crematory operator Brent Marsh’s bizarre handiwork: corpses in pits, strewn in the woods, some stuffed into metal vaults in storage sheds, a few bulldozed into the ground “like speed bumps.” Hendricks’ father was identified by his custom-made boots, and the family reeled as the news painted a more gruesome picture every day. In 2004, Marsh was tried and convicted; to this day, he has never broken his silence about the case.
In 2005, the state razed the site of the crematory and placed the property in trust, to remain in its natural state in perpetuity. With a photograph of it in hand, Hendricks set off to revisit his father’s final resting place.
“Human beings are funny things. We go on small pilgrimages without knowing we are on them. We roam around in our daily lives and wish for something significant or special to happen. And then occasionally we embark on big pilgrimages that project an end point — a point that might be religious or spiritual, or in my case a razed and abandoned field in the north Georgia mountains. But we need a lot of luck and we need to follow the signs.”
For Hendricks, the signs are everywhere, and his memoir catalogs them in lyrical profusion, pulling in a virtual kitchen sink of Southern culture and biblical imagery as he travels through Alabama and Georgia, with nods to medieval alchemy, “environmental ruin,” the travels of explorer Hernando de Soto and a host of American desecrations that spin out from the crematory to the genocidal treatment of Native Americans, the brutal institution of slavery and the battlefields of the Civil War.
Closest to the author’s heart — to his predisposition to apocalyptic thoughts and his “doomsday excitability” — is the ample roadside evidence of the End of Days, Tribulation and Revelations.
Into this dazzling array of ideas linked to his mission, Hendricks weaves his family history, including moves from Oklahoma to Connecticut to Atlanta in the 1970s and his father’s hardscrabble childhood. He cites a curious family household god responsible for egregious examples of bad luck, including the fact that his mother’s burial phobia led to the exhumation of her husband’s body, which was then sent to Tri-State.
This naming of all things, promises Hendricks, will bear fruit. “This would be part of my ritual,” he explains, “the making of meaning as I traveled along.” It would “frame [his] father’s beginning as well as his end, and create some order where there was none.”
Despite its heavy cargo, Hendricks’ ferry navigates the Styx without capsizing, the far reaches of his imagination and memory creating a powerful current that propels the reader through a metamorphosis that parallels his own. His skillful imbedding of the daily developments in the Tri-State case grounds the narrative, providing a counterpoint for the larger, more poetic vision.
A pantheon of literary influences underscores the book’s themes: Braided into the narrative is the story of De Soto’s murderous quest for gold through Alabama and Georgia, which recalls Joseph Conrad’s “Heart of Darkness.” Hendricks’ fascination with Revelations, floods, lakes and his sense of telescoping time echo Thomas De Quincey’s opium-induced phantasms. And the ghostly family farm Hendricks recreates as a child evokes the scenes from Rilke’s “Notebooks.”
Like those seekers before him, the further Hendricks travels toward his destination, the more inward his search and the more personal his “private apocalypse” becomes. His desire to reclaim his father’s soul equals his hope for “a new kind of End-Times living that would not draw me away from this world but would bring me back here.” At the end of this long day at the end of the world, all are ferried safely to shore.

NONFICTION
“A Long Day at the End of the World”
Brent Hendricks
Farrar, Straus and Giroux, $14, 208 pages
Author Preview
Brent Hendricks. The author reads and signs “A Long Day at the End of the World,” 7 p.m., April 2. Free. Jimmy Carter Library & Museum, 441 Freedom Parkway, Atlanta, 404-865-7100, www.jimmycarterlibrary.gov. Also reading and signing 6:30 p.m., April 3 at Avid Bookshop, 493 Prince Ave., Athens. Free. 706-352-2060, www.avidbookshop.com




    out of the great secret of morals, the imagination to enter the skin of another, what I have made is a curse. -bidart







    Friday, March 22, 2013

    to recognize who & what, in the midst of the inferno, are not inferno, then make them endure, give them space.

    ADV PO does Calvino & does it well.  I thoroughly enjoyed myself.  These kind of nites make me wanna host a bi-weekly book club where folks can debate books & writing & honesty & life & stuff.  Was fantastic.

    Lo is a bartender.  Made me a good margarita, spicy!

    Wednesday, March 20, 2013

    heartbreak heartbreak // rest in peace Jason Molina



    rips me up




    life anthem

    you come out okay through the worst of it all

    Tuesday, March 19, 2013

    **new from BRENDA IIJIMA'S PORTABLE PRESS AT YO-YO LABS // I HEART BRENDA IIJIMA

    GET THIS

    YES ON HIKING UP TUMAMOC WITH JOE NOVELLI

    JOE'S BAND 'MARVIN & THE CLOUD WALL' JUST GOT BACK FROM SXSW





    IT'S OFFICIAL / ABRAHAM SMITH & YRS TRULY ARE EDITING AN ANTHOLOGY OF CONTEMPORARY RURAL AMERICAN POETICS TO BE PUBLISHED BY THE ONE & ONLY LOST ROADS PRESS (2014) //


    YEP

    YEP 

    YEP

    ---

    COULDN'T BE MORE EXCITED!  HICK POETICS!

    ---

    IN 2013, AMONG THE JUNKING DINS & SCHIZOPHRENIAS OF POST-POST-POST-MODERNITY, POETS SHELLY TAYLOR & ABRAHAM SMITH ARE ON THE HUNT FOR AMERICAN HINTERLAND POETS.


    ---

    EXCITED?  OOOOOOOOOOOOO' YES I AM!

    ---

    your two fellow hick editors have found themselves especially drawn to our fellow OUT THERE poets, and wish to gather an anthology, a selection of sublime relatively recent poets from NOWHERE, USA.


    ---

    WE ARE CALLING ALL LATTER-DAY DOROTHY AND WILLIAM WORDSWORTHS ATTUNED TO RUMINATING SUCH QUESTIONS AS...

    IF AMERICA IS, AS CHARLES OLSON REMINDS US, ALL SPACE, THEN WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO BE A LOCAL OF THE HORIZON?

    HOW DOES COMING FROM NOWHERE INFORM THE STUFF, THAT IS, THE SOMEWHERES OF YOUR POEMS.

    ---

    LIKE GRANNY SAYS:  YOU CAIN'T NEVER GET BY WHERE YOU'RE FROM.

    ---

    YOU GOTTA HAVE A FIDDLE IN THE BAND YOU SEE / SAY A LITTLE PRAYER FOR ME.

    ---

    COMING TO YOU IN 2014 BY YRS TRULY HICKS ABE & MWAH

    ---

    YOU EXCITED TOO?  WHAT'S THAT YOU SAY?  YES?  OKAY!  YES!  X X X 

    YES TUCSON YES


    Monday, March 11, 2013

    lispector - the rooster was coming from the never - lamento de um blue

    with this story i'm going to sensitize myself, and i am well aware that each day is a day stolen from death.  i am not an intellectual, i write with my body.  and what i write is a moist fog.  words are sounds transfused with unequal shadows that intersect, stalactites, lace, transfigured organ music.  i hardly dare shout out words at this vibrant and rich, morbid and dark web which has its countertone in the thick bass of pain. allegro con brio. [...] i swear this book is made without words.  it is a mute photograph.  this book is silence.  this book is a question.

    the action of this story will end up with my transfiguration into somebody else and my materialization finally as an object.  yes, and it might even reach the sweet flute around which i will entwine myself like a supple liana.


    from The Hour of the Star - [solid sans all the self-referential/ars poetic gestures, which i cannot/can barely handle]

    Monday, March 4, 2013

    today i went straight up tumamoc // character (strength of) // gumption // he don't look back



    hallo march! lots of goodness!

    me & mm at borderlands for joe's show on saturday

    this LA boo is a cowgirl

    jamison was in town & had a birthday

    kaia & joe at plush on thursday