This October (Rocktober?) 23rd The Random Tea Room is hosting a reading featuring The Broad Set Writing Collective. Readers, Kiley Rummler, Maria Gullo, Glen Binger, Sam Ciero, and Myself will be reading poetry, flash fiction, post modern ditties and prose for your enjoyment at one of Philly's best tea spots.
Imagine; A crisp October evening in Philadelphia, 27 red leaves scrambling on the pavement between the wheels of city traffic and you, sitting near the window, happily wearing a sweater you got for Christmas from Aunt Cheapskate that you never thought you would like because it was so "not fashionable." But styles have changed and now you're on the cutting edge of fashion, laughing with a magic cup Oolong Tea on your finger.
We hope that is you. Join us? There will be 2 editions of free magazines.
Check out The 2nd Hand for great literature and my FAQ.
Skive Magazine is allowing you the opportunity to download a PDF file of their magazine free. Check that out for some great content.
Sunday, October 11th @ Idleworld Books Stephen Elliott & Terese Svoboba have an event. For more details click here.
New York author, Tao Lin, was generous enough to give The Broad Set Writing Collective an interview and look into his life and the inspirations that played a roll in the creation of this newest novella, “Shoplifting from American Apparel.” SFAA is described by Tao Lin as "2x shoplifting arrest, 5x vague relationship." There has been a lot of buzz around this novella, and rightfully so. Glen Binger and myself, (Peter Richter) put together a series of questions which we feel shed light on Tao Lin’s style, story and the writing process. The result is an interesting Q&A with one of New York’s greatest literary talents.
G&P: When you came to RiderUniversity about two years ago to speak, you ripped out pages of your book and handed them out to the class. I thought this was a unique way to promote yourself. Where do you get your unusual ideas for promotions?
Tao: Probably mostly from talking to friends and "making jokes" like "what if I ________."
G&P: Does your artwork ever inspire your writing? Does the writing ever inspire the artwork?
Tao: They probably do inspire each other to some degree sometimes. But I've never felt or thought anything like "I have been inspired by [a thing of writing or art] to create [the other thing]."
G&P: How difficult is it running Muumuu House? Is it harder or easier than you imagined? What's the toughest thing you've had to do so far?
Tao: It seems easier than I thought it would be. The most difficult part so far has been [what you can read about in THE BRANDON BOOK CRISIS (Muumuu House, May 2008)]. Another "difficult" thing is having enough money to print the books. It costs around $3500 to print 2500 offset books. And something like $2200 to print 1000 offset books.
G&P: I was reading an article about you and it talked about the moment you decided to be a writer and how you put your entire self into it. When was this moment? What inspired it?
Tao: I think it was gradual. Among the things that contributed to "what inspired me" to write, in 2002 or 2003, include "having no friends," having no long-term financial prospects, "hating my life," not knowing what else to do each day, and having read work by Jean Rhys and Lorrie Moore and Ann Beattie, and others, that I liked.
G&P: How do you manage all of your different projects and a social life? Do you consider yourself an organized person?
Tao: I don't have a social life except hanging out with my girlfriend and sometimes, like once every two weeks, hanging out with one person for one or two hours. I don't watch TV. I don't feel urges to talk to people outside of two or three people. I feel organized. I make to-do lists. I have a lot of labels in my Gmail account.
G&P: Did you have any mentors or peers that you feel helped you grow as a writer? If so, who were they and what did they do to help you?
Tao: I don't think I had a mentor. Brian Morton, one of my writing professors at NYU, was encouraging and supportive and I liked his writing and we are still in contact. His existence has helped and continues to help me to some degree.
The people I link to on my blog and the people published by Bear Parade and Muumuu House are peers that have motivated me to write more and work more on writing and have different standards for writing, by themselves writing things that I like and made me feel excited about writing.
G&P: What excites you about new literature? What new works are you looking forward to reading?
Tao: I'm looking forward to future work by anyone published by Bear Parade or Muumuu House. I'm looking forward to Brandon Scott Gorrell's NERVOUS ASSFACE, forthcoming from 3:AM Press at some point. I'm looking forward to Noah Cicero's THE INSURGENT, forthcoming from Blatt in I think December. I'm looking forward to Zachary German's EAT WHEN YOU FEEL SAD, forthcoming next February from Melville House. I'm looking forward to Frederick Barthelme's next book, Joy Williams' next book, Rebecca Curtis' next book, Deb Olin Unferth's next book, Todd Hasak-Lowy's next book, Michael Earl Craig's next book, Matthew Rohrer's next book, Ben Lerner's next book.
Today, 9.15.09, you can get (free) the newest project by Conor Oberst, Jim James and M. Ward. (AKA Monsters of Folk)Click here for the leak. It is another great piece of music by these brillant artists.
Today, 9.15.09, PANK Magazine has released a new webpage layout AND released their September Issue. If you haven't checked out this magazine, you're missing out on something very special.
Today, 9.15.09, is Tommy Lee Jones' Birthday. What do you think he does to celebrate? I'd say he goes out to a steak dinner with his close friends and is in bed by 7:30.
Lastly. This Friday, 9.18.09, Glen Binger,Andrew Kaspereen,Sam Ciero,Brian Long, Paul Mullinand Myself are reading at Brickbat Books. We will be premiering out newest magazine "Avalanche Tinder" and giving away free copies. Free Beer. And balloons! Balloons damn it! Things start at 7:00 pm. Click to see a flyer. Brickbat Books is located on 709 South Fourth St(between Bainbridge & Monroe Sts) Philadelphia, PA19147.
**If you are unable to attend but would still like a magazine, e-mail me your address and I will send one out to you promptly. No cost. **
Every now and then you may hear a song that was odd at first, but then grows on you. Over time you realize, the musician’s vision becomes clear and you realize it is more beautiful than conventional music. This is satisfying. An author’s vision has an even more pivotal effect on a reader.
Molly Gaudry is the author of We Take Me Apart, (set for release 12.15.09) a novella written in verse. If you consider her novella poetry, then it borrows much from prose. And if you see it as prose, it allows for a poetic flavor. Gaudry walks this line with great poise and in that poise we find her greatest strength as a writer. And like that song, We Take Me Apart grows on its reader. It captures something familiar.
Given the path she chose to tell this story, she forces herself to stay consistent in language and format. She is sometimes bold, as only one word “Timepiece” fills the page.(p. 28)
But she shows variety as she brings in subtle images that leave you breathless.
“rain pounded the sill
lightning lit our sweat
the well known people
when they lick the tips of their fingers
press into me on the counter
I will this way be lifted into the air” (p. 33)
We Take Me Apart is daring but so well constructed that it is impossible not appreciate the work that was put into this novella. Molly Gaudry writes for those who enjoy literature that challenges its predecessors, contemporaries and the reader.
A cross, stuck into the gray grass on the side of the highway-- We fall silent as we pass it by Because we know what such a cross signifies.
A simple wooden cross Marking the passing of a simple, unsung life, Thrust recklessly into the ground At the site of the tragedy that had thrust One nameless victim into the ground Six feet below.
If I stare at it for long enough, I can feel the hands of Fate And the sound of screeching tires, Wrenching metal and shattering glass Etched in jagged colors at the edges of my mind. But I look away.
There is no name upon that simple wooden cross Thrust into the sullen gray grass on the roadside, But it marks the death of a prom king, a mother of three, A man who had never kissed his fiancee goodbye, You and I. It is our reality.
A wooden cross, stuck into the gray grass on the side of the highway-- We fall silent as we pass it by, And we do not look back.
I take great pride in my work as an employee at Sandwich Extravaganza in New York City.Every sandwich I make, whether it’s as simple as ham and cheese or as intricate as the turkey, cheese, ham, mayo, tomato, roast beef, pickle, cheese, tomato (in that order) on a Kaiser – toasted so the bread crunches like the sound when you step on a leaf in autumn – I made a month ago receives the attention it deserves.
It was a special order, if you were wondering.
Every one of my bread-encompassed creations is like a tiny, edible work of art to me, although that never stops me from eating them and savoring my work.The way I see it, food is meant to be art insofar as it tastes like a masterpiece, not because looks like one.
My day at work yesterday shook me to my very core, however, and since I left the shop I have been sitting on my sofa watching soap operas and drinking Yoohoo like it’s water.I am going to have such a headache tomorrow.But it’s just as well, because for whatever reason I can’t seem to regain my faith in my abilities.
Here’s what happened:
To be honest I guess I should have known it was going to be an unusual day before I even got to work.On my walk from the subway station to work, I had my usual festival of insults with the employees of the Subway on the corner of 30th street.
“Hey doofus!Why don’t you try taking a little pride in your work and make a sandwich worthy of the paying customer?”I shouted righteously.
The young woman on duty stared back at me with a confused look on her face.She was probably so brainwashed by corporate that she had no idea what I was talking about.Poor girl.
“Well hey, listen, I won’t hold it against you because I know how tough it is to convince ones superiors that Americans actually care how their sandwiches taste,” I said.
She threw her arms up in the air.“Who the hell gives a damn?” she yelled.She returned to work.
Hmm.I win.As usual.
That wasn’t the strange part of the day, mind you.That would come next when, as I was passing through a heavy pedestrian traffic area, I was cornered by a black man wearing a backwards baseball cap and handing out brochures.
“Hey man, what you doing tonight?” he asked.
“Oh, you know, the usual, just hanging out,” I said sheepishly.I had to find a way out of this or I would be late for work.
“Well why don’t you come hang at the Funny Guys Comedy Club?We’ve got some great acts for this evening.”
I waved my hand dismissively.“I wish I could, but I…uh…already have plans.”
“Hey man, no problem,” he reached out and shook my hand.“But listen.”He pulled me in to whispering distance.“If you need anything, anything at all, just let me know.Know what I mean?”
“Uh, well, I can guess, yeah.”
He laughed.“All right man.”Then he became very guarded, as if he was about to tell me a secret.“I got the snow if you want it, man.”
I became alarmed, but I didn’t want to show it.“Uh, no thanks, I’m good.”
“Sure thing, man.”He shook my hand again.“You have a pleasant afternoon.”
I nodded and hurriedly walked to work.
I shook off the drug-selling incident and began my workday.My first customer was a shifty-looking but religious fellow, as evidenced by the cross chain he wore around his neck and the two he had tattooed on his shoulders.
He was wearing a sleeveless shirt that said “It’s Adam and EVE, not Adam and STEVE.Get it right!”
This put me off right away, but a true artist serves the public regardless of differences in opinion.
“Good afternoon, sir, how may I help you?”
He scanned the menu boards behind me for a moment, then directed his attention to me.
“Gimme a roast beef sandwich with Swiss cheese and sauerkraut, then cover the whole thing in gravy, then put it on a toasted hamburger bun.”
I waited a moment for the “please,” but when it didn’t come I decided it would be better to move on than start a confrontation over ordering etiquette.
“Certainly, sir, one moment.”
I went to the back and wiped down my preparation board.I put the bun in the toaster, awaiting the perfect moment at which to start the toasting process.
I laid out three perfectly sliced pieces of roast beef that I had cut after I arrived at work, pausing to study them for a moment before going to the fridge and getting out two equally perfect slices of cheese.
I put the gravy under the heating lights so it would reach the perfect temperature for when I applied it to the beef/cheese combination.
With a skill earned only by years of practice, I swiftly assembled the roast beef and Swiss cheese, pressed the bun down into the toaster, poured the gravy and prepared wrapping paper just in time for the bun to pop back out, a lovely golden brown.
With the sandwich in hand, I returned to the register.
“This is quite the work of food art,” I said jokingly to the man.“Please enjoy it.Would you like anything else with it?”He shook his head no.“Let me ring you up then.”
I typed quickly and easily on the cash register.Toasted hamburger bun, roast beef, Swiss cheese, gravy.He reached into his back pocket and got out his wallet.
“Okay, sir, your total comes out to $6.66.”
The man’s eyes became very wide, and he developed an exceedingly alarmed look on his face.He dropped his wallet and reached up to grasp his cross chain tightly.
“Awww geez,” he said, backing up toward the door slowly.He let go of the chain and crossed his pointer fingers in the “stay back” sign, directed at the sandwich.
“Fuck this shit!”He turned and bolted out the door and down the street.
I was flabbergasted.What had just happened?I went and retrieved his wallet, running out the door to see if I could catch him before he got too far away, but it was too late.He was gone.
I called the police to report that he had lost his wallet, then took the sandwich from the counter and brought it back into the kitchen to inspect it.What could have happened?
I took the sandwich apart, and bit-by-bit I began to realize the horrifying truth.
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