Vigorously Lazy

with Christopher Heavener

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Friday, January 22nd

Rumpus One Year Later.

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Went to the Rumpus/HTMLgiant thing last night. It was at this kinda fancy place on the boarder of Chinatown and LES. I said hello to Stephen. I went to shake his hand and he offered me a hug. He said he linked us yesterday. I said he was correct and I thanked him. Then I said it was good to see him and I walked away. He started speaking and then asked everyone to sit on the floor.

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So we did.

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This is the lady who runs the NY end of things on the Rumpus. She was wearing an amazing dress but she was very uncomfortable in front of the microphone.

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This is Justin Taylor. It’s very strange seeing people, who are previously known to you only over the internet, in real life. This was an entire night of these encounters.

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Tao Lin. Same could be said for people whose books you’ve read. He quit halfway through cause his throat was bugging him.

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This girl sang Niko Case songs. I looked over and Tao Lin was asleep awake.

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This is a terrible shot of Deb Olin Unferth.

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This is a not-as-terrible-but-still-unsatisfactory shot of Deb Olin Unferth. Which is unfortunate, because I love Deb Olin Unferth.

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It was in a very strange bar/restaurant place where they decided to put the stage at the top of the stairs. Which meant if you wanted to go get a drink you were out of luck if the show started up when you tried to get back to your place, and you were forced to watch strange images projected onto the wall of the bar and imagine they were accompanying the stories being told.

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Tao Lin, Alina Simone and Stephen Elliot read a transcript of a facebook chat she had with a complete stranger.

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And then there was Jeff Lewis. Who I used to not like, but then respected him quite a bit more after seeing him live.

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He did an illustrated, A cappella song explaining the Cuban Missile Crisis. So… lifelong fan. He hit the nail on the head when he said he’d never played a gig where he’d acted as goalkeep by keeping people from getting their drinks at the bar.

Also, I met David Peak and Greg Gerke in real life. They are cool dudes.

Definitely worth the five bucks but it was a very strange night. I was expecting a more spirited celebration like the last Rumpus event I went to. It was at times a regular old reading, at times exciting and funny. Overall, I was more excited to see my internet friends in real life. Readings in New York should never, ever, be boring. There was one girl who sighed through her reading. If you are not excited about your work, what makes you think I will be?

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Thursday, January 21st

Get Dirty.

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Annalemma and HTMLgiant are hopping into the sack together for a contest. Taking yesterday’s When Author’s Get Hungry contest, we decided to throw When Author’s Get Off. Go over to the Giant and turn your favorite book title into something ribald, titillating or downright pornographic. Winner gets an Annalemma Bundle. Contest ends tomorrow afternoon. And better bring your A-game, I’m already laughing my ass off.

Also we will be putting out the call for submissions for a collaborative piece named after the winning title.

Thanks to Jimmy Chen for getting the ball rolling!

Thursday, January 21st

120 in 2010: Slumberland.

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Random thoughts:

Why don’t people talk about Paul Beatty? I’m sure they do. I’m sure they talk about him in hushed tones, looking over both shoulders before they mention his name at literary cocktail parties, as if he has the power to be everywhere at all times, so you’d better watch what you say about him. It’s like when racist white people say the words “black people.” They whisper it, as if the words had the power to invoke the wrath of Voldimort. Which, I guess, in their mind, the words do.

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People don’t talk about Paul Beatty in the same sentence as Jonathan Lethem, as Michael Chabon, as Junot Diaz. And why not? Beatty is just as talented (if not more so) than Lethem and Chabon, can hold his prose weight in the ring with Diaz any day. So why do you never hear about him? My theory: because he uses the n-word.

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I took a critical writing class in college called American Voices, which was vague liberal arts college speak for “non-white authors.” It was taught by a writer in residence, a lovely woman named Valerie with an amazing smile who wrote mystery novels for a living. She introduced me to Beatty and, subsequently, to the concept of talking about and thinking about race. We read an excerpt of White Boy Shuffle aloud in class and afterwards we were discussing it. Actually, we were forced to discuss it. We went around the room and everyone had to say something. I was one of three white people in the room, and I’d never talked about race in front of black people before and I was terrified that if I even spoke the words “black people” in front of the class that I’d get assaulted with an unanswerable line of questioning, “Black people?! What do you mean black people?” which would quickly devolve into “Let’s kill this racist motherfucker!” So instead I rambled about the style, the structure, something about maximalism. Basically sidestepping the race conversation as much as I could. For an entire semester. The funny thing was I never heard a mention of Beatty after that. Almost as if he was banished from the earth. I had to search for him. And I found him in Borders a couple weeks ago.

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A hallmark of Beatty is that he plays around with race and I think that’s what scares most people about him. People are so shook-up by the PC movement that they’re scared to even talk about race for fear of sounding racist. Beatty appears dangerous. Which is probably why you’ll never see him on the Oprah book club (btw, there’s a hilarious footnote in Slumberland wherein it mentions Oprah buying the movie rights to each and every black American in history, therein becoming the embodiment of the black experience in America).

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*taken from the Vice Guide to Everything.

Overly defensive Post-Script:

There’s arguments for using the word in a non-racist way* (which always sounded kind of ridiculous to me, as it seems like it would take a millennia for the word to be diluted of its cultural history and connotations, and even after all those years it would probably just take on a new form of negativity), arguments that say it’s just a word, and that everyone should be able to use it, that we should rob it of its power by using it ias a joke, that you’re a bit of a Politically Correct pussy if you’re too afraid to say it. And the reason I don’t is cause I have a lot of people I deeply care about who would be deeply upset if I used it, and not only with me, but with life in general. And isn’t that what personal politics really boil down to? Whether or not you want hurt the people around you? That, and maybe I just don’t have the comedic inflection for it.

Tuesday, January 19th

Issue #4 Sale!

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Like setting sandbags against the portals for an oncoming flood, we’re bracing ourselves for the deluge of work on our next print issue. Which means a few months from now a giant semi truck is going to arrive at our doorstep delivering ten or so heavy boxes full of books. Our storage space is bursting at the seems. To empty it a little bit we’re giving you the opportunity of a lifetime:

Annalemma Issue #4 is on sale for half price! That’s $5 for stories by Joe Meno, Nick Ostdick, Thomas Cooper and many more. What else does $5 get you? Illustrations by Spanish illustration sensation Raquel Aparicio, photos by Simi Valley photographic inspiration sensation Alex Martinez, and an essay by Sam Weller about Kiss.

What are you waiting for? Forget that five dollar foot-long, spend your money on something that will last!

Monday, January 18th

Ugh…just ugh.

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Our intern, Janelle Luce, has been helping me sift through the submissions box for a month or so now. I’ll forward her 10 or 15 submissions, she’ll read them, then send me notes, comments and her opinion as to whether or not we should publish something. One thing I didn’t know when I took her on was she had a knack for brutally honest comments and visceral reactions to the work. Here’s a few of my faves from the last few weeks:

– a hot mess. backwards town, like an episode of the friggin twilight zone

– ending is like, WTF? “This was a long time ago, when my journey was still beginning.” is there a sequel or something? I hope not…

-I do like that he gets his ass kicked in the end. I was happy about that, the snot.

-BLARGH! heavy-handed, wannabe Gabriel Garcia Marquez motherfucker, cool it down a bit

– OH GOD!! starts with a passage from the Bible

– ugh, just… ugh.

– I think this person was high or drunk when they wrote it, just look at the BS in the last paragraph, and the title? oh man.

– EWWW sexual encounter grossly graphic… come wiping and all.

– all surf jargon, which I wouldn’t mind if there were some context clues, brah.

– ugh. just trust me on this one.

Friday, January 15th

PANK blog / Haiti.

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If you love literature and have been looking to do something for Haiti then quickly get over to PANK where they’re donating the proceeds of all sales (from 1.13.10 to 2.13.10) to charity for Haiti.

Friday, January 15th

120 in 2010: Shoplifting from American Apparel.

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Random thoughts:

New York in the Winter time can be a very lonely place. It’s cold and nobody leaves the house cause they’re sick or they’re hold up with their significant other. Not the best time to be reading a depressing book. That’s not true, this book isn’t depressing as much as it is about depressed people.

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That doesn’t sound enticing, I know. But the thing about being depressed, is that it helps to know that someone is in your corner, maybe not trying to pull you out, or help you combat it (only person who can pull you out is yourself), but it can be invaluable just to know someone’s there, in your same boat.

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This book reaches through the darkness and grabs your hand. It might not save you, might not lead you anywhere warm or well lit, but it’ll sit with you for a while. And sometimes that’s all you need.

Two down, 120 to go.

Thursday, January 14th

HIC Update.

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Did you know that the deadline for Holiday in Cambodia is tomorrow?!? Holy shit, you better get your holiday story polished up right quick. Especially if you want to be included with the likes of Al Burian. That’s right, Al was good enough to submit a hum-dinger of an en essay that we’ll be posting an excerpt from in the coming weeks.

And in further goodness, Anne took some time out of her busy schedule to answer a few questions about her ongoing work in Cambodia.

(All photos courtesy of Anne’s blog)

Annalemma: How’d you first get involved with the young women in Phnom Penh?

Anne Elizabeth Moore: After Punk Planet shut down—partially due to new governmental policies that made it harder and harder to create your own media—I started investigating places that, like, accidentally allowed the government to have undue control over freedom of speech and yet were still considered democracies. Cambodia is seen as having the freest press in Southeast Asia, but still reporters are threatened, harmed, go into hiding, or are killed all the time. So I started reading about the country and came across this dormitory, the Harpswell Foundation Dormitory and Leadership Center for University Women. Of course, I’ve also always been a feminist because in America, in my opinion, as a woman you become a feminist or you decide to hate yourself, so when they invited me to come be a “leadership resident” I was like, of course! So I go to Cambodia, and was like, ok: no literacy, but a lot of photocopies. No respect for copyright law, but a desperate need to communicate. And a small window in this very traditionally gendered society that might allow us to self-publish without government retribution because, since we’re girls, we’re probably not seen as capable of real harm. (Anyway, I only do one thing in the world, right, which is pretty much make zines, so I figured I’d do it there.)

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A: Had any of them written about themselves/told their respective stories before?

AEM: Lord no, that is pretty much considered a massive waste of time in Cambodia culture. You gotta remember, though, 99% of the artists in the country—including Sinn Sinsomouk, the recording artist from whom Dengue Fever steals all their stuff—were killed under the Khmer Rouge. Also, the intellectuals, the engineers, former government employees, and anyone who spoke a different language or wore glasses. So, creativity, access to certain skills, all this stuff that might allow them the time and energy and even idea to create their own media is not accessible to them in any way. Also, partially because of the Khmer Rouge regime and also because this is just the traditional way of teaching, students are taught via rote memorization to repeat back what is told them—this is how writing is taught. As you can imagine, the critical capacity that it takes to decide to write your own story isn’t easy to come by.

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A: Has it been a positive experience for them?

AEM: I don’t know. They seem happy to see me, but I also know that their cultural teachings are very strong. I think at first they felt very self-indulgent, to be women and to demand space in culture to tell their own stories, much less to distribute them out around the city. I think they’re getting used to it though. After all, they’re aiming to become the first generation of women leaders in the history of the country, so they’re gonna have to start demanding space sooner or later.

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A: You’re there right now, how have things changed for the women since your first trip?

AEM: Enormously. I’m still getting my head around the changes to this city, much less to young college women in a rapidly developing country. For one thing, they’re no longer fresh from the countryside. They’re now women of the world, and some have even traveled outside of Cambodia (Although, still not very many of them, as visas are almost impossible to get for most Cambodians). For another, the KFC’s been completed, and so official Kentucky Fried Chicken signs adorn every fucking thing in town, which is eminently less charming than the hilarious and delightful old Khmer Fried Chicken stand-by. “Globalization,”one of the girls said the other night, and she’s right. So, they’re more comfortable out in the big bad world, which is great, but there are less exciting things for them to explore, which sucks. Now that they’ve been to the legendary Kentucky Fried Chicken, why go to America? I mean, I’m being cynical, for sure, but I think this culture’s taken a real hit lately. As if the secret bombing campaign in the 1970’s wasn’t enough! Now KFC too?

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A: What’s you’re overall goal with this ongoing project?

AEM: Well, I learned to establish a voice and presence through self-publishing with very few resrouces, and my original goal was to simply see if that translated. It did, but now I guess the question is, what do we want to say with that voice? Especially when fear of governmental or peer retribution runs so high? I think that’s what we’re struggling with now, as we talk about how to proceed with this work. Can we be both strong and safe? People who speak up–the amazing Mu Sochua is just one example–are getting in a lot of trouble right now. So, as the Cambodians say, we go step by step. Step by step. They say it in a much cuter accent than I do, however.

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A: You’ve remarked on your blog that there’s an inordinate amount of giggling that occurs between yourself and these women during the times you’ve encountered them. Please explain.

AEM: Well for one, I am hilarious, most particularly to myself, but also, when you don’t share a common comfortable language, you tend to do a lot of things to express yourself. I do a lot of practicing my Khmer on passing animals, for example. Most imnportantly, though, the thing about these young women–for they’re definitely women now and not girls anymore–is that they’re exactly like young adults anywhere else in the world. They talk about boys, try on makeup, want to be pop stars when they grow up, and giggle about anything. It’s just that they started out in rice fields, or houses on stilts in the countryside, and their parents are all genocide survivors. It gives a little bit of a different understanding to a makeup tip when, 35 years ago, makeup in this country was literally inconceivable.

Thanks Anne! As for the rest of you, send those submissions in soon! Also, thanks to Ryan Call for pumping this project up on HTMLgiant and to Matt Bell for doing the same.

Wednesday, January 13th

Mail Bag.

Some interesting articles have been arriving by post as of late. Let me tell you about them.

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The talented J.A. Tyler was kind enough to send me this beautiful bundle of chapbooks from Mudluscious Press. Mind you, I ordered and paid for them (as you should too), but I just thought it should be noted that Mr. Tyler is not a deadbeat who will abscond with your cash, should you order something from him. Not that anyone has said contrary. Goddamnit. See, this is what happens when I try to compliment someone.

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Got my first issue of PANK! Feel the need to always spell that with a exclamation point for some reason. Or clap hands together.

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Conan Tobias did a trade for his colorful Canadian journal  Taddle Creek (or should I say colourful.)

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Lastly, Sheba sent me a collapsible birdhouse. I love it.

Tuesday, January 12th

Lina Scheynius

lina_scheynius_diary_winter_2007_01These hazy little pockets of life captured by Lina Scheynius seem appropriate for winter. Her photos remind me of your eyes being a bit dried out from the heater, hair perpetually mussed up from wool hats and the static clicking of moving your arm across a bed sheet in the middle of the night, trying not to stir the one your with.