Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Curbside Splendor Issue 1 (read it in the grass)

Curbside Splendor Issue 1


Coming March 15, 2011, Curbside Splendor's first semi-annual print journal featuring short stories and poems by James Greer, Ben Tanzer, Yovani Flores, Brandon Jennings, Michael San Filippo, Lara Konesky, Ally Malinenko, Timothy Gager, Frankie Metro, and much more. A collection of work we've published online, and some new pieces never published before.

Currently available on a pre-order basis. Books will ship March 15.
ISSN 2159-9475

5.5" x 8.5", perfect-bound paperback, 125 pages long.

Designed by Karolina Faber.

Edited by Victor David Giron and Stephanie Waite Witherspoon.
Photography by Garett Holden, Michael San Filippo, Eirik Gumney, Karolina Faber, and Stephen Schwegler.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Three times the Metazen

The Soul Must Go On is a story about the afterlife and not wasting life's time which is a phrase I've used to  base my own actions on. To me it means to live life as if it's your last day and to try to make that        
 last day the best one possible.

Metazen has been good to me. They've previously published some of my more symbolic prose. You are right here in the universe now and in this moment. Care about what is important to you. Don't waste life's time.

If the characters in this story seem familiar to you they've appeared before in a story about child support published in Thieves Jargon and anthologized in Treating A Sick Animal: Micro and Flash Fictions

From today's story: The next morning Wolfboy and Snickens raked my remains in with the dirt. They tossed two bits of bone to Joe and Bangles but they only sniffed at them. 

When I analyzed this for this blog post it made me think how exactly I knew people's ashes had bone in them. Years ago a co-worker named Herb died and he wanted people to celebrate his life at his memorial service. The event was held at the Cyclorama in Boston, which was a huge art space. They poured his ashes out on the floor. I saw that the ashes weren't similar to the kind you'd find in an ashtray but they were chunky. There were white bits of bone in them about the size of a knuckle.

Then the music started. It was eighties electronic music and the leader of the festivities shouted that we should celebrate and dance in Herb's ashes. I remember dancing and the sound "crunch, crunch, crunch" under my shoes.

When driving home I realized that someone would have to sweep up the ashes. What do you do with ashes that have already been celebrated upon by a group dance? The sweeping up afterward seemed so odd. Did it go from the dustpan to the trash? I really felt I needed to know.

Monday, February 7, 2011

"Entertaining Just An Option" rides on Monkeybicycle

Founded in 2003 in Seattle, WA, Monkeybicycle has continued to publish the absolute highest quality in a wide range of literary categories. Twice, works we've published were selected for inclusion in the Best American Nonrequired Reading anthologies.

In 2007, Monkeybicycle became an imprint of Dzanc Books, a flourishing small press in Ann Arbor, MI.

My story of debauchery, Entertaining Just An Option documents the beginning of an end and the end of a beginning. Enjoy.