I am working on a new book of lyrical essays, inspired by my creative non-fiction workshop, run by the terrific Amy (McDaniel) Robinson. Highly recommended. “My hair should have nothing to do with it, and yet it does, this thick coarse hair, often unruly, I prefer to tame it. My hippy phases were Jesus phases,Continue reading “Spectacles”
I am taking an online creative non-fiction workshop, with some terrific folks from Atlanta and the U.K. Taught by Amy (McDaniel) Robinson. It is part of The Art of Everyone and Studio Friend. Composing the Self and the World. I am remembering the importance of community. No one an island. Etc. Readings and prompts andContinue reading “Chimps and Bonobos”
From North Las Vegas to a dentist in Turkey, to the house of 100 beers in Northern Poland, there are many travels. Dear Mercury, patron saint of thieves, these are my multi-faced identities. Dear readers & listeners & fellow travellers, here are some journeys:
“A new Polish reality show will feature
opposite-sex couples only
a family means a man and a woman
a man and a woman!”
” I take the train to Barcelona. The train enters a tunnel. A baby coughs very lightly, an older man clears his throat. The tunnel, that’s where we all go, light or no light no one is to know. My amphibian throat gurgles, will the language spill out of me, it is a great accomplishment.Continue reading “The Art of Everyone”
Back in the day, when the days were longer, and then shorter, much like today but faster, I began to write poetry under cover of full moon during my Mormon mission. Bloating/unbloating. This was the beginning of my behind-the-scenes spirituality. Now part of my behind-the-scenes novel-in-progress, The Dreamlife of Honey. The second in my nomadic surrealist trilogy. Here is a reading.
After Turkey, and a stint of dog walking in Italy, he moves to London, falls in love, lands a gig as an adjunct professor at an American style university in London. He feels a sense of community with the avant garde poetry community iand starts to write a novel from his experiences living in various countries. Feels the joy of NY school poetry. His brother, in Utah, dies suddenly from an overdose and he visits his family for the first time in over seven years.
Evolution Humans and animals. Hittites, wolves, Charles Manson, bipedalism. What are we really? There is no great plan. Some terrific poems by Grzegorz Wroblewski over at Partisan Hotel. Translated from the Polish by Piotr Gwiazda.
The novelist I pretend to be is a character invented, for the sole purpose of being obliterated, by the writer I am. The writer I am wants nothing to do with novelist. He suspects the novelist of wanting to restore to fiction the particular order of reality that suffocated him and drove him to writeContinue reading “Eric Chevillard”
I’ve baked the memories, stirred the sugar bombs, opened the hatch, de-wormed the cat, the best is yet to come.