7.31.04
Οκτώ διαφορετικές ταινίες κινουμένων σχεδίων μικρού μήκους αποτελούν το περιεχόμενο των δυο DVD The Paris Review με τίτλο «Κλασικά Παραμύθια». Γνωστότερο από αυτά είναι πιθανότατα το «Ασχημόπαπο», μια βραβευμένη με Οσκαρ ταινία του που συγκινεί ακόμα και σήμερα μικρούς και μεγάλους. Γνωστή είναι και η Sarah White, Alexandra Teague, Christian Nagle, Martha Collins, ιστορία του Lance Larsen. Οκτώ τον Ίκαμποντ Κρέιν να προσπαθεί να λύσει το μυστήριο και ταυτόχρονα να κερδίσει την καρδιά της αγαπημένης του Κατρίνα. Στο «Ο Πρίγκιπας Και Ο Ζητιάνος» βλέπουμε ολόκληρη τη γνωστή παρέα, τον Μίκυ Μάους, τον Γκούφυ, τον Ντόναλντ Ντακ και τον Πλούτο σε μια διαφορετική εκδοχή του έργου του Μαρκ Τουέιν, φέρνοντας φυσικά τα πάνω - κάτω!
Οι υπόλοιπες ιστορίες, αν και δεν είναι τόσο γνωστές, είναι εξίσου ωραίες Οranges Band's All Around, ένας μικρός Ινδιάνος που βγαίνει σε κυνήγι αλλά τελικά γίνεται φίλος με τα ζώα του δάσους. Οκτώ τον Ίκαμποντ Κρέιν να προσπαθεί "Finns for Our Feet".βραβευμένη με Οσκαρ ταινία με κεντρικό έναν εγκαταλελειμμένο που Melissa M, γίνεται καταφύγιο για διάφορα ζωάκια.
Οκτώ πρώτα φυσικά τα παιδιά.
7.16.04
Don’t know why I’m reading so many memoirs as of late. First it was A Million Little Pieces by James Frey (which I never mentioned before because it was so awful on so many levels, I had to put it down), then Nick Flynn’s memoir, and now I’m about a hundred pages into Anthony Swofford’s Jarhead, which I’m loving. Swofford’s prose is lucid, and his account of the first Gulf War is unflinching. He loathes and loves being a Marine, which does some obvious damage to his psyche. And this is before he's gone into combat. I can't imagine what a tattered mess his psyche would be like then. Which reminds me of this article I read in the latest New Yorker, "The Price of Valor" by Dan Baum, about the psychological effects some soldiers face from killing the enemy. Chilling. A must read. There's also a great, strange story by Judy Budnitz. And, starting on page 96, the first of four (count them: four) ads for David Sedaris' Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim. Like we didn't know already that David Sedaris has a new book out called Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim. Seems like every bookstore I walk into I see David Sedaris' Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim prominently displayed. Soon there will be vending machines where you can buy David Sedaris' Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim.
The Swink shin-dig this past weekend celebrating the Lying, Cheating + Stealing online theme issue was a hoot times ten. I'd go into details, but I'm feeling lazy. I'd share pictures, but I forgot to bring my camera.
Don't you just love it when a rejection note still feels like an acceptance?
7.1.04
Allow me to be brief. Came across Jeff Ladouceur's drawings in Harper's. Searched high and low for his book Ebola. Found it at Last Gasp. Beautiful book. Beautifully drawings. Surreal, dark, funny, twisted. Imagine looking at classic comic strips on acid. Click here to know what I mean. Read Matthew Sharpe's The Sleeping Father (Soft Skull). Beautiful book. Beautiful ending. Best thing I've read since, well, Nick Flynn's memoir a few weeks ago. Wish I could write like Sharpe. I'd feel immortal. Listening to The Slow Wonder by A.C. Newman. Great tunes. Click here to know what I mean. Saw Farenheitt 9/11. Bush is dumber than I thought. Here he is reading My Pet Goat in a Florida classroom shortly after being informed that the US was under attack. Please God not another four years. Please. Here's a poem.
6.15.04
We arrived from our big trip yesterday. Three nights in Chicago, eight in New York. I'm jetlaggin'. I'm discombobulated. We stayed at Hotel 71 in Chicago. Very spacious room. We even had chaize lounge. Chicago's a great, great city. I can see myself living there. The BookExpo America was insane. Take the AWP Conference and multiply it by ten. Lisa had a book signing for her novel, signed for almost an hour straight. Made sure to swing by the Norton table to pick up the galley for Nick Flynn's memoir "Another Bullshit Night in Suck City", which won't be out until September. Love the minimalist cover. Met Daphne Gottlieb at the Soft Skull booth. Dinner the next night with Gina Frangello (of Other Voices), Simone Muench (recent winner of the Sarabande book contest), Steve Almond (the candy freak) and others. Flew into New York on a Sunday, the day Lisa's review came out in The New York Times Book Review. Stayed at Park South Hotel. Very tiny room. We moved like crabs around our bed. Lisa's publication party at the Pioneer Bar was a hoot. The comma martini was a hit. Lisa Loeb stopped by. Then the Swink reading at Piano's. Too bad a band was playing downstairs. Bob Hicok stayed at the same hotel, his room right next to the kitchen. Me: "What time did you get up this morning?" Bob: "I get up when the kitchen gets up." Then The Happy Ending Reading Series, hosted by Amanda Stern. Lisa read. Whitney Pastorek sung cheesy 80's tunes while strumming her acoustic. Fun stuff. Then I left my wallet in a taxicab. Or I dropped it outside the cab. Panic ensued. Then, a miracle: someone returns it to the hotel two hours later (hotel key/card was in my wallet). Went to Union Square Park. Went to Poets House. Went to Lemongrass Grill twice because the food was so damn good. Went here and here and here. Finished reading Nick Flynn's memoir, which is the best thing I've read since "Everything is Illuminated" by Jonathan Safran Foer. It's poetic, heartbreaking, memorable, chilling, genius. It will receive much acclaim and win many awards. Wait and see. Then CLMP's Fourth Annual Lit Mag Fair at the Housing Works Used Book Cafe. Two bucks per magazine. Can't beat that. Then Lisa's reading at the KGB Bar. Then up at 5:00 AM the next morning to catch our flight. Then today, recovering. How do rock bands do it, travel across the country and play 20 shows in 30-35 days? Now wonder why they do drugs. Here are some photos from our trip.
6.2.04
Been listening to TV on the Radio's first full length—Desperate Youth, Blood Thirsty Babes—over and over. Imagine if Radiohead had soul music in their blood and Peter Gabriel took over as lead singer. Wait, that sounds terrible. I wouldn't want to listen to that. It's good though, trust me. Even better is their Young Liars EP. Their a cappella rendition of the Pixies' "Mr. Grieves" is the boldest cover song I've heard since Cat Power's "Satisfaction" (from The Covers Record). Here's "Staring at the Sun", which you can find on the album and the EP.
New issues of lit mags worth checking out: Gulf Coast (Bryan Walpert, Mike Dockins, and Thomas Heise all slam dunk here), Indiana Review (Adrian Matejka's "Affirmative Action" and Dan Kaplan's "Bill Translates Hungarian" knocked me out), and Bellingham Review, which has a great poem by Simone Muench and a wonderful Lucia Perillo interview, who gives a great answer to a silly question about "the perfect, ideal poem": "The problem with having a perfect poem is twofold: first off, models tend to be crippling, because the model is a crystal and the poem always come out like a turd. So one is heartbroken by the failure of the early draft. And secondly, as soon as you try to repeat a success of your own, or someone else's, you're trying to graft an artificial structure onto what ought to be—is trying to be—a new moment."
Documentaries. Seen lots over the past few months. Unprecedented: The 2000 Presidential Election shows just how crooked the election really was. Home Movie delves into the lives of crackpots and their bizarre living conditions. And Bukowski: Born Into This is the best documentary I've seen in years. I never cared much for the man's poetry, which seemed like sketches for short stories, which is where he really shines. Regardless of what you might think of his writing, it's impossible not to be moved by this film. I had to swallow a knot in my throat as the credits rolled. I'm a softy like that.
Check out this stirring collage of George Bush, whose incompetence never ceases to amaze me.
Yesterday was my birthday and the folks at Willow Springs were nice enough to send me this card.
We're getting ready for our Chicago/New York trip over here. Lisa has a publication party for her novel in NYC and quite a few readings here and there afterwards. I'll have lots of photographs for you next time.
Here's a poem.
5.15.04
I don't care what a certain reviewer in the March issue of Poetry says about Thomas Lux's The Cradle Palace (Houghton Mifflin)—I still enjoyed reading this collection. Lux's strange imagination twists the world into a surreal dream with horrific and/or comedic effect. Here's the beginning of "Boatloads of Mummies": "embarked from Egypt to New Jersey in 1848. / Boatloads of mummies by sail / sold to a pulp mill / to make into paper. / Which venture (one tries to think / what the investors thought) didn't / work out: the stationary resulting / was gray / and gritty / and held not the black depths of ink." I've also been reading some Wallace Stevens and the latest issues of some literary magazines: Black Warrior Review (check out D.C. Berry's chapbook, "The Clouders" by Leonard Orr, and "Love Is a Very Small Tsunami" by my CD
burningbuying friend Alex Lemon), Cream City Review (love that "Aloft" by Lauren Bower Smith's), Field (favs: David Barber's Houdini poem, Fred Marchant's meditation on the table, and Bob Hicok's lettuce-inspired poem), and Gyorgyi Voros' lyrical "On Recalling Joel Peter Witkin's 'The Kiss' on a Woodland Walk in Autumn" in Agni, which I can't read without thinking of the horror show that Iraq has become over the past week.Just when I'm convinced that Sam Beam of Iron & Wine deserves the Indie Folk Singer/Songwriter trophy, I drop Devendra Banhart's latest CD, Rejoicing in the Hands, in my stereo and can see Devendra engraving his name on the gold plaque. Banhart's a master with the acoustic guitar who loves to play around with his voice (a warble, a soft croak, a buba-buba-buba-buba-buba-buba). Watch Devendra Banhart play here on KCRW's Morning Becomes Eclectic. Yes, I know he looks like a cult leader, but his voice is truly angelic.
How was I supposed to answer this email? And after receiving two emails from folks who thought I was the David Hernandez from Chicago, I've decided to change my name to Ezekiel Q. Moonshine. Call me Ez for short.
And after reading for the second the wrong title for my book of poems (don't recall where I saw it the first time), I've decided to title my next collection Cat.
My good friend Ernie Liang took some cool photographs of yours truly the other night. Here's one of them, which reminds me of the dark/light contrasts you'll find in Caravaggio's paintings.
I'll leave you with "The Body Breaks" by Devendra Banhart.
5.6.04
It's official: Simon & Schuster will publish Lisa's short story collection The Body Shop in spring 2005! Good news seems to be coming her way every week. She's going to have a little write-up for her novel in Vanity Fair, a write-up in the June issue of O Magazine, and, the coolest news of all, a forthcoming New York Times Book Review. We're so looking forward to our Chicago/New York trip next month for Lisa's mini-book tour. Check out her schedule, and if you live in the area, swing by!
5.2.04
Lisa and I can't stop listening to Iron & Wine: Our Endless Numbered Days, The Creek Drank the Cradle, and the Sea & The Rhythm EP. Sam Beam, the troubadour from Florida and the man behind Iron & Wine, sings with a wispy voice as gentle as a lullaby. His songs are quiet laments, beautiful tunes perfect for a lazy afternoon. He's just as gifted as Will Oldham, methinks. Here's "Naked As We Came" from Our Endless Numbered Days. A big thank you to Alex Lemon for burning me copies of Iron & Wine's CDs. I mean buying me copies. Yeah...that's what he did...uh-huh. Support the arts!
Lisa's copies of her novel, A Girl Becomes a Comma Like That, arrived this past week. We celebrated, of course. Here's a photo of Lisa holding her book. Although you can't see it, I'm holding a glass of wine as well.
The Swink Launch Party on April 17th in L.A. was phenomenal. Great readings, great music (okay, I picked the tunes), sushi, quiche, all the wine and beer you can drink. It was a hoot to the tenth power. Here are some photos from the evening's festivities.
Here's a poem.
Previous Journal Entries
1/30/04 - 4/15/04
10/17/03 - 1/15/04
7/2/03 - 9/30/03
4/21/03 - 6/15/03
1/7/03 - 4/18/03
9/24/02 - 12/24/02
