Tag Archives: DOGZPLOT

Awful Interview: J Bradley

22 Mar

If you are unlucky, J Bradley may tear you a part with a revenge poem. If you are lucky (and by luck I also mean ‘if-you-buy-his-new-chapbook‘) he will uplift you with one. J. Bradley is powerful that way. He is a force to be reckoned with.

His work has appeared in Metazen, Kill Author, decomP, Dogzplot, as well as many other places. He’s the Interviews Editor at PANK, the Falconer of Fiction at NAP, and a contributing writer to Specter MagazineHe hosts the reading series There Will Be Words in Orlando where he lives.

After meeting J. Bradley in person at AWP, but before having him come down and read at the next Vouched Atlanta Reading, J Bradley and I decided to get better acquainted via an Awful Interview. Things got wonderful and things got awkward. See for yourself!

You have a chapbook, We Will Celebrate Our Failures, out and about in the world right now. It says on your blog that you will write a poem for anyone who sends you proof that she bought the chapbook. How many poems have you written for that so far? How many would you like to? Will they be haiku?

I’ve written one so far. I’d love to write 124 more. Haiku is a bit weak though. I want to reward people who are nice/brave enough to buy this chapbook. Every poem I write will be a poem you (hopefully) are willing to share with someone or read to someone you hate. I can do some interesting things with three words (and while I’ve still got my clothes on).

Read to someone you hate, that’s interesting. Are you implying that bad poetry can be used as a form of torture?

It’s easy to torture people with bad poetry. It takes skill to tear someone apart with a well written poem. If you can make your enemy laugh as you shred their soul, it makes that spiritual ass kicking sweeter. Here’s such an example of kind of revenge poetry I speak of.

Well played Mr. Bradley! How cutting! You are the Count of Monte Cristo of poets. Do you have a giant chest of Spanish doubloons hidden somewhere? Where do you hide your treasure?

Sadly no doubloons here unless I want to name my cock ‘giant chest of Spanish doubloons’ this week then I can answer the second question with ‘in my pants’.

Are you implying that you give it a new name every week?

I try and keep the names relevant to what is going on in the world. One week, it was named the Academy because of the way it fucked Drive over for the Oscar nominations. Around Easter, I call it Jesus except it doesn’t take three days for it to come back to life.

Okay, I’m stumped. I cannot think of a witty rebuttal to your response. What do you think I should ask you next?

Perhaps one of the following:

who am I wearing?
where in the world is Carmen Sandiego?
what will you do if this latest relationship fails?
who are you gay for in a sexy way?
who have you always wanted to interview?
what fictional bear would you bare knuckle box against?
how will you read something at this reading that isn’t sad bastardesque?

I’m an interview machine due to my stint at PANK. I’ll refrain from any Lionel Ritchie references for now.

So many wonderful choices! I’m going to do a mashup question of two that you have offered here: What fictional bear are you gay for in a sexy way?

One could offer the easy choice of Yogi as he is a provider or Pooh because he always knows where to find the honey but life is never about easy choices. I would have to say I would be gay for Ignatius J. Reilly. Sadly, our love would never work because he would refer to me constantly as a sodomite even though I’m more Gomorrahian.

Ignatius was quite the bear. Wait, what? …soo uhhh… anyway. Tell me about how excited you are to come to Atlanta on Friday, April 6th and read for us. What’s going to be the best part of the reading? Why do you think people should attend?

I am tremendously excited to read as part of this literary wrecking crew. It is incredibly rare outside of AWP to get such a talented, diverse lineup. It’s a one-in-a-lifetime line up (until AWP comes through Atlanta again). You’ll get drunk on the words and the beer and more of the words. Bring a date. I promise I won’t mack on them.

That Time of the Month Again

17 Oct

No, not that time of the month (though maybe it is, and if so, I’m terribly sorry; my empathy for the fairer gender runs deep). The time I’m referring to is when I open my Google Reader and see new feeds from The Collagist, PANK, DOGZPLOT, and Word Riot.

The Collagist is out of the gate with excerpts from Blake Butler’s new memoir, Nothing: a Portrait of Insomnia, and Nick Antosca’s Fires. Work by Lincoln Michel, Kate Lorenz, Luke Geddes, Gregory Sherl, and Joseph Scapellato caught my breath.

PANK is pounding it out with some great words from Lauren Schmidt, Sarah Faulkner, Mather Schneider, Tessa Fontaine, and many others.

DOGZPLOT delivered with a lack of animal evidence by Peter Schwartz and a stinging serpent by Nicola Belte.

And Word Riot you’ll just have to check back for later, because their feed posts before their page updates, so I’m probably a jerk for telling you how good it is now. If you’re really curious, just subscribe to their feed. You won’t be disappointed, month after month, you won’t be.

Orabona Writes About the Things We Will Never Do

19 Sep

I’ve a long while been wanting to write a something that captures those awful, impulsive thoughts that slam into our minds in times of sudden or creeping crisis: thoughts of running away, of suicide, plotting to murder, of hating someone else’s skin. They are those thoughts that come uninvited, and you quickly (hopefully) dismiss as absurd. They are quick fantasies that help us, in their own strange way, to keep moving forward.

Michelle Orabona writes about exactly that in her piece, “Figi,” up at this month’s DOGZPLOT.

She thinks about suicide the way you think about foreign lands you know you’ll never visit. When everything builds up in screams inside you, you think; I’ll run away to Figi. I’ll live in a hut on the beach and eat coconuts for breakfast and disappear my feet into the sand. I’ll disappear my life into the ocean and at night there will be so many stars. And you’ll fall asleep out there, the ocean kissing you with its heart beat as you count the stars and create your own constellations. Everything will be okay in Figi.

Read the rest at DOGZPLOT.

We Had a Party: Vouched Presents Recap

22 Jul

It seems almost pointless at this point to post a recap of last Monday’s Vouched Presents DOGZPLOT Literature Party, since Barry posted a rad top 10 of the evening at the DOGZPLOT tour blog, and Sean Lovelace posted all glow and beaming at his blog, and contributor and table extraordinaire Tyler Gobble had kind and awesome things to say at his.

At the height of the evening I counted 85 shining faces, which was rad to see so many out, rad to see such a crowd at a silly little reading, despite the heat wave which made quick work of the Service Center’s aging A/C and went to work on the crowd and readers, and poor Matt Mullins, drenched in sweat and only at the mic a few minutes, and how the heat and the sweat became a part of everything, how it reminded me of basement shows, the ceiling dripping, people shouting with the lyrics, sweat skin and anthems, man.

And thanks to Flat 12 with their blond ale on hand, and Scratch Truck with their Scratch Burger, that piece of wonder meat, bacon marmalade and gorgonzola, majesty belly with scratch-made banana pudding, “Oh, there’s bananas at the bottom,” Ashley said, “There’s bananas. At the bottom,” she said.

And Barry says Indy buys books, and hell yeah, Indy loves books. People come to Indy and they see everyone consuming books, and always such surprise, always such wonder. Indy loves books, look at Indy swarming the table, look at Tyler looking pretty behind the Vouched table, and thanks so much to him because without him, I’d be dead, I’d not have survived the reading keeping everything running, going smooth, and having to mind the table, too, oh hell nah, but Tyler, man, Tyler’s the man, man. Thank you, Tyler.

And all the readers were such bright bodies, such bright words. I was glad they way their words floated out into the shine and the shimmer of the sun through the windows, and the heat, sweat, swelter, but they all shined on, their words wonderful, thanks to all the readers who read, I can’t show all your faces, but you can see them at the Big Car Flickr set where all these pictures are from.

Everyone made this event what I wanted and hoped for, thanks be to the readers, the awesome sponsors: Yelp!, Scratch Truck, Big Car, Writer’s Center of Indiana, NUVO, The Lit Pub, Flat 12, sunnyoutside press:, thanks to the audience with resolve, with summer drenched bodies, thank you for coming out for laughing for enduring the summer for buying books for supporting words for helping me believe in my city in what I’m trying to accomplish with Vouched in what things can be.

Did I mention how many of you there were? There were so many of you. Look at all of you believers.

Thank you. Goodbye.

Life Without Television by Riley Parker

16 Jul

My television was stolen from my house a few weeks ago, and the past few weeks have seen the most productive days I’ve known in…ever? I’ve built 6 rather large raised beds in my back yard. Planned and promoted the Vouched Presents DOGZPLOT Literature Party. Replaced the entirety of the fence in my backyard. Started a novel. Submitted some poems to a couple journals. &c&c&. It’s been kind of glorious.

That’s not a rant against TV. I love TV. I’m just saying it’s been a really awesome few weeks without one, getting all this work done. I feel almost manic.

That’s not at all what goes on in Riley Parker’s “Life Without Television” up at DOGZPLOT. Yes, the same DOGZPLOT rolling through town next Monday, the same DOGZPLOT that we’re throwing a huge shindig for. They recently had their July issue drop, so I thought it fitting that I would select a couple of my favorites from this month’s issue to vouch here at the blog to share these stories and simultaneously plug the reading party.

So, read what Parker’s life would be like without television, and turn yours off Monday and come out to Big Car’s Service Center to eat great food, drink great beer, and hear great words.

Mother starts transcribing our shared meals, writing down everything we say in shorthand, then going back and shaping these conversations into one act plays. She does this for weeks on end, meal after meal, urging us to be clever and dramatic, to give her work merit.

Read the rest at DOGZPLOT.

Awful Interview: Laura Adamczyk

12 Jul

Photo by Chad Simpson

Laura Adamczyk has a handle on where to smash bottles. She has a handle on Abe Lincoln’s beard. She has a handle on keeping the jukebox warm and the dance floor shuffling. She has a handle on reading at the Vouched Presents DOGZPLOT Reading Party next Monday, where you should be as well.

Tell us a little about yourself. Where are you from? What’s your day job?

I grew up in a small town about 60 miles southwest of Chicago. Right now I’m entering the second year of my MFA at University of Illinois, so I’m just kind of working my way around the state—Wilmington, Galesburg, Chicago, Champaign. Really into zip codes that start with 6.

When school’s in session I teach, but this summer and next year I’ve got a gig working for Dalkey Archive Press, doing layout and proofreading and such. Sometimes I send out books to reviewers and I get to walk down the big long room of shelves filled with all the Dalkey titles. I often think about how many I could shove into my purse.

I’m always intrigued by creative minds, how they do what they do. Where do you get your ideas? Do you have a Muse?

I get my ideas from life. And movies.

What do you think about the word “soul”?

Soul? I’ve got it. And I’m super bad.

Do you like rap music? Why/why not?

Sure, some, though I don’t really pay much attention to it in general. However, I do like that my Wu-Tang name is Inebriated Assistant—I will both help you get drunk or try to help you while I’m drunk.

Why do you write? Is it to express yourself? To gaze lovingly at your navel? To incite a riot?

I write to gaze lovingly at other people’s expressive, riotous navels.

Writers are supposed to know things and be political and stuff, right? What do you think about the war in Middle East?

Is that still going on? I thought we declared victory like five times already.

Man, I love birds in art and literature. Do you love birds? Stars? The moon?

No, those things sound kind of lame.

Have you ever been to Indianapolis? What’s your impression of Indy, whether you’ve been here or not?

Despite knowing a handful of people who live or have lived there, I’ve never been. My impression is that like birds and moons and stuff, it’s pretty lame. Ft. Wayne is where it’s at!

What would you like to say to people about coming to see you read at the Vouched Presents: DOGZPLOT Literature Party?

I would like to say that regardless of talent, writers, not unlike mediocre street musicians, sometimes deserve a little bit of your pocket change.

Awful Interview: Jesus Angel Garcia

11 Jul

Jesus Garcia is a force never ending. He and I stem from the same roots it seems in music and intent, and he is one of the few people I know who seems to tap into that boundless energy that sends him everywhere. He’s out right now touring for his new book, badbadbad, and he’s borrowing the road from the DOGZPLOT crew for a few stops along their Summer Reading Tour, stopping in Indy next Monday for the Vouched Presents DOGZPLOT Literature Party!

Tell us a little about yourself. Where are you from? What’s your day job?

Baltimore originally, San Francisco Bay Area for almost 20 years. Day job: traversing lonesome highways. Night job: freak-preaching badbadbad.

I’m always intrigued by creative minds, how they do what they do. Where do you get your ideas? Do you have a Muse?

My ideas tend to come from personal experience and cultural immersion. Right now, I’m fascinated by our desperate and courageous attempts to communicate and connect with each other.

What do you think about the word “soul”?

Do you like rap music? Why/why not?

Not my primary drug of choice, but I am polyamorous, and I do like the hot stuff; I know it when I hear it. Common sounded pretty good the other night here in New Orleans.

Why do you write? Is it to express yourself? To gaze lovingly at your navel? To incite a riot?

Provocation. Subversion. R-I-O-T.

Writers are supposed to know things and be political and stuff, right? What do you think about the war in Middle East?

As I understand it, the United States has been involved in wars around the world for 99 out of the last 100 years. “War Without End” is how we roll, apparently. I’m convinced there are many other ways to nurture national interests and interact with other countries as responsible global citizens.

Man, I love birds in art and literature. Do you love birds? Stars? The moon?

I just heard some amazing birdsong in Austin and saw these beautiful vultures tearing into a carcass on the side of a desert highway. I had a green parakeet as a kid until my brother accidentally smashed it up against a wall. Birds are sweet. So is fried chicken. So is this:

I pray to the stars. I howl at the moon. I really do. Well, not the praying part, but…

Have you ever been to Indianapolis? What’s your impression of Indy, whether you’ve been here or not?

Never been, but a Bay Area friend from there says it’s a happening hipster scene. I plan on wearing my stick-on tattoos.

What would you like to say to people about coming to see you read at the Vouched Presents: DOGZPLOT Literature Party?

I’ll just say what the Cornbread Girl says in “Bed o’ Cornbread Crumbs”: Come come come…

Vouched Presents: DOGZPLOT Literature Party – July 18th!

14 Jun

We’re still ironing out the details for this event, but I can assure you, it’s going to be fashioned out of giant marble pillars of kick ass.

Barry Graham and his DOGZPLOT crew are going to be in town as part of their Summer Reading Tour, and we’re throwing them a party. As always, it’s free, but there will be beer and food on hand and proceeds from the event go to benefit Second Story Indy.

We’re having it at the Big Car Service Center for Contemporary Culture + Community (NOT THE GALLERY!) at 3914 Lafayette Road, Indianapolis. Readings will start around 6:30pm, but you’re encouraged to show up early to drink beer and stuff face!

Jim from Big Car is working his magic to get a local microbrew to have some brew on hand. I’m contacting some local food trucks to get some food for your lovely faces. My amazingly talented friend Jeremy Albert is on deck to design some posters for us. We’re even getting a barbaric Yelp from the local Yelp community coordinator to help spread the word!

We have the readers lined up already, so while we’re waiting for all the other pieces to fall into place, I thought I’d at least share with you those who will be sharing their words with us!

Barry Graham
Sean Lovelace
Roxane Gay
Matt Mullins
Steve Himmer
Micah Ling
Laura Adamczyk
Jim Walker
John Clark
Jesus Angel Garcia
Jessica Dyer
Kevin McKelvey
Layne Ransom
Bryan Furuness

I hope to see you there! You’ve only yourself to blame if you miss out on this.

SSM: “Invisible Girlfriend” by Chad Redden

29 May

It seems I’m enamored with these stories of relationships maintained through the use of notes, of relationships in different dimensions, of relationships. For awhile, Britt and I left post-it notes around the house for each other, reminding each other why we like the other. I keep a few of hers above my desk where I don’t really write anymore. I don’t really write at my desk anymore. Our office is cluttered space. I can’t concentrate.

This morning, Britt made the best chocolate chip pancakes I’ve ever had in my life. I ate them. I swallowed them down. I put on shorts and gloves and shoes and went outside. I pulled weeds for hours. I mowed the lawn. I sprayed weed killer on weeds growing up through cracks in our driveway. It’s amazing how resilient weeds can be. It’s amazing how resilient we can be.

She’s turned invisible and leaves a trail of post it notes telling me that she is in the room with me. OVER HERE. Maybe she is not invisible. Maybe she is five minutes ahead of me.PICK UP MORE CAT FOOD. Or maybe I am five minutes behind her. She wrote a note in kitchen above the sink. It read HERE I AM. I spread out my hands and tried to find her, but the air was empty.

Read the full story at DOGZPLOT.

Ominous shadows.

15 Nov

Marnie Shure’s story X over at DOGZPLOT. It’ll only take you a minute to read, but if you know what’s good for you, it’ll take you 10. That’s right. Read it 10 times. Love it. Feel it grow on your bones like a flourish.

The shadow on the x-ray is actually almost lovely, my sister told me: a flourish on something as static as bone. I wasn’t prepared to believe her but when she took the square cardstock envelope from off her bed and turned off the lights and pressed the contents against the apartment window to push the sun right through I saw just what she meant.