ellen kennedy

yesterday i was talking to myself and i told myself that i was going to write a book and give it to you so i put paper in my bag and put a pen in my bag and rode my bike to the river bank and then sat on the ground and thought 'i will never write a book' and watched ducks swim away from me by ellen kennedy

i want to sleep
by ellen kennedy

don't touch me
by ellen kennedy

i have no ambitions
by ellen kennedy

my life is a typo
by ellen kennedy

i might work in a laundromat!
by ellen kennedy

today i bought a small pink flower
by ellen kennedy

there is blood on my flowers
by ellen kennedy

how the government ruins lives (a love poem)
by ellen kennedy

you didn't know why i was laughing
by ellen kennedy

choke me
by ellen kennedy

bear parade is designed and created by gene morgan

also by ellen kennedy with tao lin is the very retarded giant moth and hikikomori

if anyone knows ernest hemingway's email address please let me or gene morgan know; thank you

From: bear
To: Rebecca Wolff
Date: Apr 29, 2006 6:36 PM
Subject: Ernest Hemingway

Dear Rebecca Wolff:

Hello Rebecca, I am Tao Lin, an editor for Bear Parade. I read a book recently, THE SUN ALSO RISES, and was impressed. I looked at the author. It was Ernest Hemingway. I thought he'd be good for Bear Parade, so I Googled him to try to find his email. I couldn't find it.

Then I remembered that he was in FENCE. I'm pretty sure he was in FENCE a while ago. He had a story, something like FOR WHOM THE BELL IS TOLLING, or something, it was pretty good. I remember it because it was 400 pages long, which I think is rare for literary magazines.

Could you email Ernest Hemingway for us? (Or possibly give us his email address?) We are very excited about his work, and would very much like to invite him to submit a small book for consideration to be published by Bear Parade.

Thank you.

Tao Lin
Bear Parade

--
bearparade.com

i have stories in the spring fourteen hills, mississippi review, and other voices

fourteen hills

mississippi review

other voices

these are stories from bed

i have a PDF of the fourteen hills story that i will email to anyone who wants to read it

i don't know anymore

what is the purpose of spending money on literary magazines?

i think literary magazines create community

you can create community without money

i think literary magazines also sometimes further place attention on abstractions rather than conscious, alive things

which i think for most people is contradictory to their philsophy in life; if you were to ask them what their philosophy in life is

this is true for almost all (or all, probably; if you believe in anything, with sincerity, then your actions are contradictory to your philosophy, which is why i think 'bad faith,' by sartre, is itself 'bad faith,' and does not go far enough; the writer i have read who i think has gone the furthest, in not having preconceptions, is fernando pessoa) people, i think

for example

if you smoke cigarettes and have ever complained unselfmockingly about assholes, george w. bush, republicans, inconsiderateness, or anything

then your actions do not convey your philosophy

these are just some observations that are being made

'i' am not making them

a computer program would make the same observations

therefore these are not 'opinions'

these observations are not 'self-righteous'

they are made by a computer program

i can make myself think as if a computer program

from now on these observations are going to made here

i know what most everyone is thinking

you are thinking, 'you are a retarded little boy with autism'

because i am possibly sabotaging my own 'literary career'

i understand that point of view

for most people it is impossible to comprehend a human life without applying the words 'advancement,' 'progress,' 'success,' and 'happiness' to it

what is a human life without 'advancement,' 'progress,' 'success,' and 'happiness?'

i'm not sure

a few people whose writings i can understand have said that art is nice because it can move a human mind to the state of what buddhists call, i think, 'oneness,' when the illusion of 'self,' or 'identity,' goes away

yes, i think that is true; it has happened to me before

schopenhauer said that and other people have as well

(that there are two worlds; the one of phenomena and the one of 'oneness,' or 'nothingness,' and that art can move consciousness (or whatever you want to call it) momentarily into the one of 'oneness')

i described it in my story, 'insomnia for a better tomorrow,' which was in opium magazine, whose editor is todd zuniga, who wanted to edit out that part

i know todd zuniga and i are different

i send him stories and he tells me, 'what is this story about?'

i say, 'it is about meaninglessness'

and he rejects the story

i realize i have said things that will alienate me from editors and publishers; some of them the ones publishing my work

why shouldn't i?

most people like art that does not compromise; has not been influenced by societal pressures, myths, laws, etc.

it seems all the same to me

life, art

i also want to say that anyone who uses without irony (or without knowing and including the information that they have made assumptions, in the universe) the words 'best,' 'good,' 'bad,' or 'important' can think longer and with less preconception about what they are talking about and then maybe some day stop using the words 'best,' 'good,' 'bad,' and 'important'

it's not always possible to think longer and with less preconception about a thing

when your thoughts become paradoxical after asking 'why' repeatedly then that is the end of thinking, i think; you cannot create a non-contradictory thought out of a contradictory thought without first allowing in some preconceptions

but for people who use those words

you can still think

and want to, i think

(most people have gone around complaining that other people don't think or are stupid)

i'm talking about maybe 98% of writers, especially the ones with educations

the less education a person has, i've observed, the more they are able to view things concretely

picture books for sale

the very retarded giant moth
by ellen kennedy and tao lin

hikikomori
by ellen kennedy and tao lin

ezra kire
by tao lin

whale
by tao lin

hamster
by noah cicero and tao lin

literary agents email binky.tabby [AT] gmail.com

help us sell our books

link to this post

if we do not get five links to this post by april 29th ellen kennedy will behead me on ESPN's sports center, i will behead ellen kennedy on CNN, noah cicero will behead me on comedy central, i will behead noah cicero on access television, ellen kennedy will behead noah cicero on BET, and noah cicero will behead ellen kennedy on NBC nightly news

i'm almost finished with my novel

it's called novel by retarded ant

it's going to be 27,000 words and i probably wrote 300,000 words to get it here

here is the blog of johannes goransson who is one of two editors of action books which is the publisher of my poetry book

here is a post he made

in the comments section i typed something that i always type

but that is always ignored

or else is argued against by calling me 'stupid,' 'immature,' or 'cute'

i encourage everyone to go there in order to call me 'stupid,' 'immature,' and 'cute'

also to copy-edit my comment

thank you

karen ashburner (two stories, interview)

karen ashburner edits dicey brown; is the author of this, this, and these

Self Portrait

I will speak to you as if you are me and I am you and that we is never the two of us but only you, except when I say the real me or the real you, in which case I am really talking about me (you) and you (me) as real people and not as characters in the abstract. I will speak as if you (the real you and not a character in abstract) are interested in what I (the real me and not a character in abstract) have to say. Did I mention that I (you) am (are) considering a trip to the movies with some stranger I met on the Internet? Did I mention that I (you) saw a woman in a tight red shirt today and thought about going to the movies with her? Did I mention that when I say ‘to the movies’ I mean sex, but in a soda/popcorn kind of way. Did I mention that I (the real me and not a character in abstract) had a dream about us going to the movies (having sex but in a soda/popcorn kind of way)? Did I mention that when I say ‘us’ I mean me (alone) and not with you (the real you and not a character in abstract) because that would make things way less complicated than we (you) like them. We (you) like things complicated because you (I) might break your (the real you and not a character in abstract) heart.

"Hearts are meant to be broken," you (I) say. We (you) are meant to put on our (my) sad face every day, our (my) sad face that we (you) use to protest our (my) loneliness." I (you) say that I (you) would like to go to the movies (have sex but in a soda/popcorn kind of way). You (I) say that sounds like a really good idea. Did I mention that when I say ‘good idea’ I mean ‘bad idea but in a lonely, tormented kind of way’? I (you) say this sounds like a good idea (bad idea but in a lonely, tormented kind of way). We (you) agree to go to the movies (have sex but in a soda/popcorn kind of way) with me (the real me and not a character in abstract). I (you) say that sounds like a good idea (bad idea but in a lonely, tormented kind of way). I (the real me and not a character in abstract) say that going to the movies (having sex but in a soda/popcorn kind of way) with you (the real you and not a character in abstract) makes my heart beat a little faster. You (I) say to me (you), come to North Carolina and we (the real we and not characters in abstract) will go to the movies (have sex but in a soda/popcorn kind of way). Did I mention that when I say ‘North Carolina’ I mean ‘the bedroom’ and when I say ‘bad idea in a lonely, tormented way’ I mean ‘slow, and quite beautiful’?

The Fire

So this morning. I hear a knock on my door. No one ever knocks on my door without me knowing someone is on their way to knock on my door. I live on a busy country highway. Across from a cow farm and a mobile home. If I hear a knock on my door, I think it is someone disguised as the gas man coming to rape me or kill me or both.

So I lift the blinds. There is a man standing on my porch. A scruffy looking man. Could be a serial killer. Could be a rapist. Could be a farmer. Could be the gas man.

"What do you want?" I say in my best don't fuck with me voice.

"Uh, you might want to watch yr yard," he says. "The woods behind yr house is on fire."

I say, "The woods is on fire?!"

I open the door and look outside, still convinced that someone will soon hit me over the head with a bowling trophy and push me into the back of a '77 Oldsmobile with no muffler. But sure enough, the woods behind my house is definitely on fire.

He says, "Yeah, somebody from the trailer park is calling the landlord."

There is a trailer park behind the woods that are behind my house. It is gang territory. As a result, the outside and inside of my shed is spray painted with various tags, jokers, aces, black number 8 balls, and pictures of the female anatomy, the same things the children I teach routinely draw on their notebooks.

The scruffy looking man on my porch blinks at me. His mouth is open. He is trying to look over my
shoulder and into my refrigerator, which is standing open.

I say, "Has anyone called the fire department?"

He says, "No, don't think so."

I say, "I'll call 911.

I call. The phone rings.

The dispatcher says, "What is the address of your emergency?"

I say, "You want my address?" Because I'm thinking they already know that from some computer screen they are looking at and it seems more like he would be asking what is the "nature" of my emergency, not the "address" if he wanted to know what was wrong as opposed to where I lived.

He says, "Ma'am, you called 911. What's wrong?"

I say, "Oh, the woods is on fire."

About five minutes later the U.S. Forestry Service drives up in a pickup truck. A man in a yellow hard hat and green Dickies work pants gets out and unravels a garden hose connected to a tank full of water in the bed of the truck. He begins to spray the fire. The garden hose looks to have the water pressure equal to my bathroom sink faucet. The volunteer fire department shows up. They have a bigger hose. They begin to spray in what I consider kind of a taunting way, in kind of a "my hose is bigger than your hose" way. The official fire department comes. They bring the big truck and the really big hose. They put out the fire. As they do so they shout encouraging words to one another, the kind of things I've heard at fast pitch softball games and the gym.

As I'm watching them put out the fire it occurs to me that the 911 dispatcher might very well be some guy sitting in his mom's basement, or a ham operator just down the road from me and I think the next time I have a fire emergency I should skip the middle man and call the fire department directly. I make a mental note to look up that number and put it on the refrigerator since this is the second time in a year and a half of living here that I have had to call the fire department, and the second time I have heard, in an exasperated tone, "Ma'am, you called 911. What is your problem?" But I have to say, the first time wasn't an issue over semantics, but rather an attempt on my part to explain that the emergency wasn't necessarily of the life or death kind.

After about thirty minutes the fire is out and the ground has quit smoldering and spitting underneath the water and the firemen load up and leave. They laugh and talk as they do so and for a minute I wish more than anything I was one of them. I wave goodbye from my porch and they smile at me, waving back as they drive off.

Then the soldier I've been seeing calls and asks me to go out tomorrow. He says he will buy be a whiskey or a Budweiser and some tofu at the Chinese place in town and I say okay. After some chit-chat about the fire and the roach my mother's cat killed last night and left for me on the kitchen floor we hang up and I grab my mail and head to the post office where I stand in line and listen to a preacher talking to a woman about the problems of the nearby rival churches. The tone of his voice and his demeanor makes it sound like he's talking about football so while I'm waiting I mentally substitute the words "Pittsburgh Steelers" every time he says "the church in Sanford" and "Carolina Panthers" every time he mentions "the church in Bunn Level."

After several minutes the woman leaves and then the preacher digs down deep in the trash, pulling out the circulars that people have thrown away after checking their PO boxes. He looks up at the postal worker and smiles. "Got them all," he says. The postal worker stares at me and blinks. "What the fuck," he says and I say I have no idea, don't look at me, and I pay my two dollars and twenty five cents to send my package, which happens to be a book I was sending back to the man who broke up with me about two weeks ago because he "wasn't ready" for a relationship, even though he considered me a "diamond."

I walk back to my car. I think in an absent minded way about many things and nothing in particular. I think about the package and the fact that I didn't include a note with the book. Just a book in a yellow manila envelope sent to the firm where he works. Nothing personal, nothing identifying it as something special or noteworthy. For a moment I think maybe I should have included something. A letter. A card. A sticky note. Something. Just to let him know that I am okay, just to let him know that everything is good in spite of his absence, that everything in my life is fine and back to normal. Just as it should be.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You went to the MA program with Frederick Barthelme, Mary Robison. How was that?

The things I was writing, or starting to write, weren't really the kinds of things that went over well in a Rick Barthelme workshop. But I think nothing really goes over well in an RB workshop. To tell you the truth, I don't think he pays attention to any of it. I spent two years writing some really crappy stuff, and a few good things, trying to find where I fit in, if anywhere. Fiction workshop was like being punched in the stomach repeatedly, poetry workshop wasn't much better. Some of the people there were quite without talent and it was difficult to think of something good to say about some of the awful things they wrote. Then of course there were the ego-maniacs who were sure they were the next big literary thing. There was a lot of pretension. But Hattiesburg is where I met Lydia Copeland, my fiction editor at Dicey Brown. It's also where I met some other really cool people who encouraged me to keep writing. I think it was this small group of people I appreciated the most from my time there. I bought a house there, thinking I would stay and continue on, but I decided the environment was too artificial. I mean, why sit around talking about writing when you can be spending your time writing? I don't know. I did get better while I was there. Sometimes I wonder how much the program had to do with it, and how much of it was just my own determination.

Was this when Frederick Barthelme was losing his inheritance on blackjack?

No. His money was long gone by the time I got there.

Have you ever written a novel, do you want to, and why?

No. Never written a novel. Never had the desire to write a novel. Probably never will but I guess you never know. I don't read novels much. I'm trying to remember the last novel I read. I'm sure it was something I was forced to read at USM.

You teach kids.

I teach kids and adults.

In your writing there is confusion, hopelessness, detachment, depression, and other bad feelings.

Yes, quite.

You also have a daughter.

Yes.

Do you want to teach kids and your daughter to stay away from those feelings? To watch TV, read People Magazine, etc., to move into them completely and write, say, books you would enjoy; like Lorrie Moore, or whoever, or to not think about those feelings, but also not ignore them, but just think about planets, or something, to memorize facts about planets and what year Columbus did whatever and how many Indians died, etc. Explain how you are able to teach kids things. Thank you.

No. I do not try and teach my students or my daughter to stay away from these feelings. How is this possible? I think the kids who are taught to ignore "bad feelings" are the ones who eventually climb the clock tower and shoot the rest of us depressed morons. The kids I teach come from poverty. Not just situational poverty, like this month I'm broke because I spent too much on shoes, but generational poverty. Poverty that will probably stretch on to their kids and the kids of their kids. Confusion, detachment, and depression are just another part of life for them. Some deal with it better than others. As a group they are an emotional bunch. What matters most to them is family. They are not an easy group to motivate. The inane competitions my school has to encourage reading or what-not (whoever reads the most gets a pizza party) do not usually work on the kids I teach. I do not try and teach them by having them memorize facts. This would be a waste of my time. The kids I teach learned English as a second language. Memorization of facts is not possible for them. We read a lot of books in my classroom. I let them choose their own books. I try to instill a love of reading in them. Sometimes we play games. We listen to tapes and CDs. Sometimes I let them listen to the music on my computer, whatever is on there. They think my music is a little sad though. I guess maybe it is. I also have them write. Much writing. It is a long process and gains are small but measurable. Lately I am having them study poetry. I try to make things as fun as I can. If I'm bored, I know they are. Kids are cool, plus they will do anything for a Sponge-Bob Square-Pants sticker. Will one of them grow up to be a Lorrie Moore or a Lydia Davis? God, I really hope so.

I like your writing. So I want to read it. And I think I write what I want to read. But you reject me for Dicey Brown. Does this mean I'm not trying hard enough to write what I want to read? That you don't like what you write? That I don't really write what I want to read? Or that I only like aspects, really, of your writing?

About three years ago you sent me a story so good I couldn't believe you had sent it to me and my little magazine. Sometimes this happens. Sometimes people send me stuff that is absolutely amazing and I wish I could pay them for it and give them a bigger audience. But the only thing I can do is publish it and tell them thank you very much and send me something again in the future if you can. Sometimes the next thing they send me is total crap and I have to say no thanks. Sometimes what they send is good but just not right for the issue I'm working on. I can't speak for how hard you are "trying." You seem very concerned with making money on the things you write. Do you think this legitimizes the time spent on it? I don't know. I want things for my magazine that are really good, things I want to read. The competition out there for good stuff is really tough, so I don't get a lot of it. All I can tell you to do is try. I mean, we all get rejected. I got rejected today. I have no idea why. I like the story perfectly well, and maybe the next place I send it to will like it also. But this particular magazine did not like it so I try not to take it personally and I move on. Sometimes this is easier said than done. We are none of us perfect and most all of us want to be told we are good at something, no?

read noah cicero's essay, read michael earl craig's poetry, read ellen kennedy's poem

i have read noah cicero's essay

noah cicero's essay

read it

also read michael earl craig's poetry

michael earl craig's poetry

read ellen kennedy's poem

ellen kennedy's poem

read it

these are beautiful things

read them

i am a hamster

the wheel is cold and my heart feels cold

my face feels like glass mixed with fur

my tail is a moon’s arm hair

it feels like the moon is a hamster that was atomic-bombed

my head is my face

i feel funny because my body is my head

the natural color of a hamster is light blue

i want to rub my body slowly against the wheel

my face feels small and cold

my arms are really short

i live in a fish tank

i feel like my face

i feel like i really like the wheel

i like everything today which is thursday

this has been a very good week so far

Today the Sky is Blue and White with Bright Blue Spots and a Small Pale Moon and I Will Destroy Our Relationship Today

the chapbook, to be published by future tense, is almost finished

i think the next step is to get people to memorize the title

Today the Sky is Blue and White with Bright Blue Spots and a Small Pale Moon and I Will Destroy Our Relationship Today

Today the Sky is Blue and White with Bright Blue Spots and a Small Pale Moon and I Will Destroy Our Relationship Today

Today the Sky is Blue and White with Bright Blue Spots and a Small Pale Moon and I Will Destroy Our Relationship Today

Today the Sky is Blue and White with Bright Blue Spots and a Small Pale Moon and I Will Destroy Our Relationship Today

Today the Sky is Blue and White with Bright Blue Spots and a Small Pale Moon and I Will Destroy Our Relationship Today

Today the Sky is Blue and White with Bright Blue Spots and a Small Pale Moon and I Will Destroy Our Relationship Today

Today the Sky is Blue and White with Bright Blue Spots and a Small Pale Moon and I Will Destroy Our Relationship Today

Today the Sky is Blue and White with Bright Blue Spots and a Small Pale Moon and I Will Destroy Our Relationship Today

Today the Sky is Blue and White with Bright Blue Spots and a Small Pale Moon and I Will Destroy Our Relationship Today

Today the Sky is Blue and White with Bright Blue Spots and a Small Pale Moon and I Will Destroy Our Relationship Today

Today the Sky is Blue and White with Bright Blue Spots and a Small Pale Moon and I Will Destroy Our Relationship Today

it's also important, if i want to be successful, for people to know my name

Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin

Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin

Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin

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Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin

Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin

Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin

Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin

Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin

Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin

Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin

Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin

Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin

Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin

Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin

Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin

Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin

Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin

Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin Tao Lin

okay

now i sit here and wait for the cash

this has been very easy

oh, i forgot about 'respect'

there's cash, success, and 'respect'

okay

i need to be respected as a serious, literary writer

alright

let me think

okay

okay

let me create a sort of incomprehensible, except for when there's a cliched or idiomatic phrase, but structurally impressive sentence, to show the people that i can be as incomprehensible, except for when there's a cliched or idiomatic phrase, yet structurally impressive as pulitzer-prize-winner michael chabon, etc.

okay, wait, no, just let me copy and paste a paragraph written by michael chabon

i think that will work

somehow this will work

i don't know how it will work

i just know that it will work

We are accustomed to repeating the cliche, and to believing, that “our most precious resource is our children.” But we have plenty of children to go around, God knows, and as with Doritos, we can always make more. The true scarcity we face is of practicing adults, of people who know how marginal, how fragile, how finite their lives and their stories and their ambitions really are, but who find value in this knowledge, and even a sense of strange comfort, because they know their condition is universal, is shared. You bring your little story to the workshop, and sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn’t; and then you’re gone, and it’s time for somebody else to have the floor.

okay

cash, success, respect

okay

great

did i leave anything out?

i'm going by memory right now

the three things are cash, success, and respect

wait

i should also be known as a grateful person, i think

i should be grateful for all my cash, success, and respect

yeah

that's right

okay

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

now i will go murder a homeless man, shoot and eat a deer, kick a pigeon in it's face until it dies, laugh at sad people who have ruined their lives, like jean rhys and richard yates, and manipulate people to love me, respect me, and have sex with me

it will be easy to do those things since i now have cash, success, respect, and a reputation of being very grateful

pre-order my book

my poetry book, you are a little bit happier than i am, is now available for pre-order

paypal binky.tabby [at] gmail.com twelve dollars; thank you

here is a blurb gene morgan gave the book

I just watched Swordfish on TBS, and read the poem 'Friday,' by Tao Lin.

dear everyone who pre-ordered my book

you will not get the book; you will not get your money back

i am spending your money and keeping the books; this information is very simple and straightforward; please process it

i can't concentrate

someone commission me to write an article called 'i can't concentrate'

if michael chabon couldn't concentrate someone would commission him to write an article called 'i can't concentrate'

i am working on the last story to go into my chapbook

the story is called

I Clean the Person’s Apple By Licking My Apple Because I Am the Person. Then I Eat My Apple Because the Person’s Apple Is Clean.

i just used microsoft autosummary to summarize the story to one percent of the story and the computer said to me

The people very awake.

my chapbook has no blurbs

do i need blurbs?

who should i get blurbs from and how and when?

someone tell me what to do

no one ever tells me exactly what to do with step-by-step instructions that i agree with and that i like

i wanted to interview a hamster

a poem by tao lin

i made some submissions today

Dear Interns:

I've pasted below a story, "Should," for consideration for Mcsweeney's.

My story-collection, BED, is forthcoming from Melville House.

I am the winner of Action Books' December Prize, One Story's 2004
Short Story Contest, and a few other things.

Thank you, interns, for your time and consideration.

I hope your internship is fun so far, and looks good on your resume.

Tao Lin

a conversation between noah cicero and tao lin after we return from fighting in iraq; tao lin is noah’s literary agent and i am tao lin

we meet at the olive garden to discuss noah's new novel; here is the transcript

noah: are you there

me: yes

noah: what do you want to do
because we must do it

me: our plan
how though

noah: yes

me: lets start

noah: we are dinner or something right
set the scene

me: yes
we are at the olive garden
we just got back from iraq
i am your literary agent
you are telling me about your book
ok
go

noah: It is about the war; A lot of quotes from mark twain. it mentions how much I like Beckett. There are terroists, over 1200 pages long.

me: i am your literary agent
please put in some inter-racial relationships

noah: I think Random HOuse would love it.

me: does it have a happy ending?

noah: There are some hot Arab chicks in it. I think kate Beckinsale could play the Arab chicks

me: talk about the radical poodle rape scene

noah: Two black guys from Chicago have sex with two white guys from Texas.

me: and where it occurs

noah: While hot arab chicks poke them in the ass with brooksticks

me: i just ordered the ravioli with mushrooms
i wish i were in a tank
in iraq
i'm your literary agent
how did that happen

noah: A french poodle and a german soldier make love, they make lots of love, lots of sex that can go into the movie without being graphic, I studied the works of Tom Wolff to do the sex scenes
I ordered the alfredo pizza
you emailed me because I have such an awesome blog
I sent you my book, "Poodle Love and Brooksticks"
And you loved it

me: your books need politics
give me an angle
salman rushdie must be able to write about it in the new yorker
and john updike

noah: and you are friends with two of MFA teachers

me: tell me your plans to get blurbs from dave eggers

noah: Salmen Rushdie will love it and so will John Updike, it has arabs and terrorists

me: is it life-affirming
michiko kakutani must be able to use that word in her review
or you are fucked

noah: I'm going to join that lit political group just mentioned on bookslut. And become friends and also get an MFA at bennginton. I have four MFAs now.
Yes, at the end the Poodle gets off of crack and stops being a tranvestite lot lizard

me: what is your pen nae
name
i have six MFAs
that is why i am your literary agent

noah: W.S.VULCAN>Slimwheeler
Six, where did you get them?
or Wolf J. Flywheel, which is better?

me: Poodhump Gorbachop
that is your pen name
i am your agent
listen to me
the first four hundred pages must be a description of clouds

noah: that is good!
I will, I promise
you are my Pimp, and I'm your bitch

me: this will be an allegory
against george bush
george saunders will blurb you
he will say you are good

noah: They fluffy, white, and reminds me of my mother in the north of France. Good?

me: wait
wait
where were you born
the ghettos of where

noah: Who is George Sanders? That KFC guy?

me: yeah i think

noah: In Africa, beneath a tree.

me: how did your parents die
how did you go from africa to four MFAs

noah: The ghetto of Johansberg
That is spelled wrong. I haven't been there in a long time. I left before it was my snail mail address.
My parents were eaten by a lion.
They chewed my dad's head off right in front of me.
THen the lion raped my mommy.

me: no, use more abstractions
i'm training you right now
longer sentences
more foreboding words
your sentences msut be foreboding
if you talking about your past
fuck
you are screwing it up

noah: I got to america because I was put in a shoebox, shipped by snail mail to america and two white bastards bought me from a drug dealer

me: do you want a bidding war or not

noah: wait hold on

me: do you want a swimming pool?
talk about your past
again
this time

noah: I was born, under a dark sky. The moon hung low that night. Birds flew ugly and ominous. God did not name me. The devil did. The devil gave my mother a dark seed. And it was my life.

me: think about the bidding war
good, better

noah: My mother used to drink cheap wine and fart while she made the cabbage soup. my father was sniff coke and beat me with a coat hanger. my back would bleed. I would cry for a long time while listening to Over the Rainbow. The Judy Garlend version.

me: talk about the ghettos of africa

noah: When I was shipped over snail mail, I was in a NIke Box. I remember reading, "made in China"

me: condense your answer to one sentence
good
good detail
you need indian, an indian connection
and something to reach the jewish market

noah: I used to be thrown into a dark room. and large hairy men would come in the room, (He is crying, tears, so many tears) and do nasty things to me.

me: remember your jewish ancestors
good, the parenthetical is good

noah: My uncle was a jewish monk. He used to read me the Torah and Phillip Roth novels. When I was two he read me "I married a communist"

me: i want to run over a small iraqi boy with a tank

noah: I have many connections to World War Two. my uncle died in a field, he was eaten by a cheetah. my grandpa fought the Italians when they invaded Ethopia.
Should I put that in the book?
How much can I get?
I want money

me: i want to run over an iraqi playground with a 100 foot tall tank
i read a book

noah: which one, there are lots

me: it said pakistan is not controlled by the government but a secret agency that is aligned with al qaeda

noah: Al Qaeda, that is scary

me: what are we doing after olive garden
i'm bored

noah: I'm not up on current events, i'm too busy networking

me: do you know where saul bellow's cemetary is
we can get a blurb

noah: Lets go to The CrowBar

me: didn't salman rushdie blurb his tombstone/

noah: yes, in Conn.

me: ok lets go

noah: I think he fucked it

me: oh
i'm depressed

noah: He chipped a hole, and fucked it

me: do you want a different literary agent
i'm afrai
d
you'll get a different one

noah: No, you have six MFAs

me: thank you
did you read my blurb
from marilynne robinson
she blurbed my MFAs

noah: NO, I would never fire you
I believe that you are great
you have the connections to make me the cash needed to live in Paris and write articles about America

me: my bathtub is made of gold

noah: I want to be mentioned in TIME. Can you do that

me: just like jonathan safran foer
only if you are a jewish indian born in a ghetto

noah: yes, I want to be Jonathan Safran Foer. Someone told me at his readings, people laugh when he accidently hits the mike.
I am Jewish, Asian, Black, White, Indian, martian
and Latino

me: maybe you should be addicted to heroin too
i'm not sure
it depends
are you rich?

noah: I already was, that's my next book. it is called, "I was so fucked up off of herion my mom wouldnt talk to me, so I stopped doing herion, and got a job as a lawyer at my dad's firm."

me: no, you aren't learning

noah: I have millions, I live on an island in the west indies

me: please insert the word 'harrowing' into that sentence five times
do it
do it now

noah: It was harrowing being on harrowing herion, I had to suck harrowing dick in harrowing bathrooms in harrowing subways.

me: pretty good
you will make $1,000,000

noah: I'm 12 too.
I was born in 1994
In War Torn Bosnia
my was Muslim and my dad was Christian.

me: good
it is okay to contradict yourself by the way

noah: My mom was Mulsim and my brother was Wiccan.

me: you were born in the ghettos of africa
but also in the ghettos of taiwan
remember
never smile in public

noah: I believed in The Iraq War until the Michael Moore movie.

me: unless you hit the mike
by accident
then you should grin

noah: I never smile. I have black rimmed glasses and start crying when someone talks to me.
I start crying when chewing bubble gum.
bubble gum!
bubble gum!

me: the title of your book is

noah: "The Dark Orifice of Salmen Rushdie"

me: THE DARK GHETTO OF HEROIN AND BLACK DEATH
no, you cannot alienate salman rushdie

noah: Yours is better, i'm going with yours

me: i'm your agent
wait

noah: I know, i must be nice to people I've never met, in case they know somebody like Michako
Tell me what to do!
Hollow be thine name
Agent
bubble gum!

me: the title is THE DARK DESCENT OF BLACKNESS AND DEATH LIKE A VEIL ONTO MY HEROIN AND JAIL AND BOOK PARTY
wait
no

noah: I will be nice to everybody, I love all other writers. All other writers are great people
Yes, that's it.

me: wait

noah: You are a genius. You should edit my 3000 page book
How long do you think it will be when it is done?

me: i want to hit an iraqi boy with a rifle so that his head goes through a tank
5000 pages

noah: How will it increase?

me: the first 3000 can be a description of clouds
trust me
trust me
add the word 'harrowing'

noah: Where will the other three thousand come from, will I be writing them?
What about the word, "Beckoning"?

me: you will advertise for interns
at the local MFA
copy and paste their stories into your book
as parentheticals
no
no

noah: Good idea. I love interns.

me: footnotes
as footnotes
later you will write blurbs for your interns

noah: What about an index?
Do you think we can get a movie made?

me: please have a give hundred page index

noah: Will it be 5500 pages then?

me: is there a black market near olive garden
i need a box of grenades

noah: What about the national book award and the booker?

me: i don't care
shit
your book has to be christian
shit

noah: Yes, the people who sold me to he white bastards live on Houston street.

me: it has to be jewish, christian, muslim, and still talk about the mystery of the universe, can you do that?

noah: yes, christian, Jesus. Eye for an Eye and stick my toe in a light socket
what about Buddhism? We could get some beatnik fans with some high class Richard Gear Buddhism.
What is the mystery of the universe?

me: to drive tanks

noah: To drive tanks? Into people?

me: into bubble gum machines

noah: bubble gum

me: bowling

noah: bubble gum
Bowling is the mystery of the universe?

me: i feel bad

noah: My wife is a writer too. She wants to write books about having silly romantic relationships. She is really into the question, 'What does it mean that women and men have relationships and stuff?"
Can you get her published?
Also all my books take place in NYC.

me: i just mailed her $1,000,000

noah: In Manhatten
On Houston street, pronunced, "HOW-STIN"

me: there should be flashbacks to the ghettos of africa, taiwan, and south america

noah: I once ate beans out of a rain gutter.
And sold crack to school kids
and blew my dad's brains out

me: i sold crack to a dirty hamster
the hamster had a wet head

noah: and stole a U.S. Tank and ran over a small village.
How many pages should i devote to hamsters?

me: not too many
maybe 400

noah: I actually haven't written the book. How much time do i have to write. I need chisel it out. If you chisel it out, you win awards.

me: what is your writing ritual?
do you rub your ass before every sentence
something like that
maybe you finger your yarmulke

noah: I eat a box of Turkey
And write one word.
hold I have to fix something

me: i want you to behead me on television

noah: You there
what was the last thing you wrote

me: i want you to behead me on television

noah: Good idea, I will cut your head right off with a ninja sword.

me: i will read your 5500 page novel

noah: I want to haikari on television, on the show LOST
I haven't written it
I'm on page 6
Fluffy horrowing clouds.

me: put 5000 'harrowing' btween each noun

noah: Can you just tell me what to write

me: put pictures

noah: Good idea, I have a picture of my mom
And of my dick
And I will write the word, "Goofysandwich" over and over and over and over again
I'm on page 534 now

me: invoke the spirits
did you have an abortion

noah: I'm on page 9225 now

me: 600 pages about your abortion
a description of the scalpel

noah: The abortion was lame

me: at wal mart

noah: They got a vacuum cleaner, bent the bitch over and sucked that little fucker right out
It took a week

me: you killed a baby
remember that
remember the bidding war

noah: yes, like several hundred. I put sticks of TNT in their mouths, lit the wick, and kaboom Jonathan Safran Foer
How much are you telling Random, Haper, and Simon?

me: farrar strauss giroux
knopf

noah: Random house owns Knopf doesn't it
I think Random, Harper, and Simon own all the books

me: soft skull

noah: I don't want to be published at some shitty no good indy press
POD is Not FOR ME

me: you can sell the abortion part to soft skull

noah: That was a poem
You should edit it
I want several million dollars in my account by next thursday, what can you do about that?
I want the book to be published at Random, Harper, and Simon all at once

me: expand the description of the scalpel to 1400 pages to show how the abortion was harrowing

noah: There is no scalpal, just a vacuum cleaner

me: okay, describe the cleaner

noah: taking a shit is harrowing
Plastic, blue and gold, windex and flavored onions
I'm telling you, they bent the bitch over and ploop onto the floor was my seed.

me: ok
noah
i think we have enough
i will post this
tomorrow

noah: It bounced like a basketball
I dribbled it and slammed dunked the fetus
Send it to me, I spelled words wrong.
Was it stupid?
Am I stupid?>

me: no
it's good
no, we leave typos
it is saved in your gmail
i will have to format it
tomorrow
this is good
who can gwe get to link
i will add a link to the condemned somehow

noah: Miss Snark
send it to Karl Wenclas, he will laugh.
He will link to it, says he likes it, and then call us assholes

me: you email him

noah: okay
I just reread it, it is beautiful. I think people will love it.

me: it's good
maud newton would link
if she didn't hate me

noah: I don't think people will think we are serious. if they do they are dumb

me: yeah
it's good
it's really good
bookslut will link

noah: it really doesn't make sense
Bookslut will link.

me: i will link randomly to the condemned
where else should i link

noah: To this http://www.city-data.com/city/Youngstown-Ohio.html

me: ok

noah: and to this http://www.gonzo-movies.net/htdocs2/ma/magic-WhiteMeatOnBlackStreet-GoldieCoxx-newhardcore/index.htm
and this http://www.brown.edu/Departments/Literary_Arts/

me: ok

noah: anything else

me: no

Noah: grump old bookman
I have to lay down, i think i want to cr
cry

me: i feel fucked
and sad
fuckedly sad
is that a good title

noah: yes
i can't get up
i'm going to take a bath and cry

me: im

noah: was this thing interrminable
im
what is that
im

me: no it was good
while happening
now i feel interminable

noah: is that spanish for we are fucked

me: that was funny, i laughed

noah: you made me laugh in the interview

me: good
lets get marreid

noah: i think we will changr th world with this interview
publisher's market place

me: lets nominate it for the nobel prize

noah: will put into their magazine
Good idea
Call it, "Publisher's market Place
or is it Publishers and Writers
that really bad dumb magazine at stores
that make it to Ohio
fuck it is called, "Writers and Poets"
I can't remember
Shitters and Pissers

me: noah
as a team
we can
do things
we just need
a third person
to
encourage us
i dont know

noah: I can't do anything alone anymore.
I wait for the day to end
nothing good happens
and if something good happens, it is like, "Wow, I care."
I'm trying
seriously I am
that is what I have to say to the world
that is my novel.
It goes
"I'm trying"
The end

me: noah

noah: Tao
Notaah
No hat

me: i'm changing myb log name
get ready

noah: I'm ready
stick it in my ass
I'm going to lay down and some time after that take a bath

me: ok
we have done good toinght

pretentious shitface blueberry hamster-head-body-paste fuckhead

is the name of my next collection of poetry

here are a list of my books in the order they'll come out or are out

this emotion was a little e-book

I Clean My Apple By Licking My Apple. Then I Eat My Apple Because My Apple Is Clean.

you are a little bit happier than i am

Bed

pretentious shitface blueberry hamster-head-body-paste fuckhead

i guess action books will publish 'pretentious shitface blueberry hamster-head-body-paste fuckhead' if they like it

if they don't like it i'll have to write cover letters

in cover letters you always put the book title in all caps

so it will be like

Attached is my second collection of poetry, PRETENTIOUS SHITFACE BLUEBERRY HAMSTER-HEAD-BODY-PASTE FUCKHEAD, for your consideration.

this is a really stupid title

it's not the real title

there's a kind of writer that does not 'stand the test of time' (i have to use the cliche so that many of you can understand me) and so does not 'enter the canon'

this is pretty much the only kind of writer i am interested in reading right now

therefore i only read very contemporary writing

this kind of writer is the kind who realizes certain illusions, who writes about them, and thinks about them, and so realizes and understands them even more, and then finally doesn't care anymore about anything

some of these illusions are

the idea that success can get you things

the idea of 'good' in a meaningless universe (or, the same, a universe where everything is not known)

the same with 'bad,' 'important,' etc.

the idea that one can define the word 'meaning' without first defining the 'meaning' of some other things

the idea that you are your art, and therefore you can survive past death

the idea that people can actually say things and that those things can be somehow 'true'

once the writer realizes these things there is little motivation to 'succeed,' to 'convince others that they are good (there is no 'good'),' to 'write reviews of other people's art,' to 'talk about other people's art in a way that can be responded to without the response being very influenced by the above list,' and other things

other things that you need to do to be reviewed by important people, to be reviewed and known by the mainstream (and most of the independent, also) media, and to 'get your name out there'

that's one reason why this kind of writer will not 'stand the test of time'

another is that the people in power, the people who decide the canon, do not believe that the universe is stupid, meaninglessness, and a terrible place

they do not believe that their actions are stupid, pointless, and insignificant

they use words like 'good' 'bad' 'important' 'life-affirming,' etc.

their worldview is the opposite of the kind of writer i am describing

a person who has been reviewing books for thirty years, gradually 'moving up' and getting promotions and whatever, winning awards, etc., at an 'important' newspaper or magazine or university (especially university, where they'll teach 'the canon') will not read and love or understand or agree-with a book about how reviewing books, getting promotions, 'getting ahead,' and winning awards is stupid, meaningless, and (a diluted version of the kind of writer i'm taling about, for the rest of this sentence) 'not at all the most efficient, compassionate, or effective way to achieve happiness for you and/or others'

an example is jean rhys

her books were out of print after good morning, midnight for like forty years and people thought she had committed suicide; no one cared about her

until she won some award for a novel told from the perspective of a black person; her only novel not told from her own, very autobiographical point-of-view

another example is fernando pessoa

his book was not published in america until like sixty years after he died

and then not because of his philosophy (critics, essays, and introductions, and even back-covers of the books never talk about his philosophy, which is one that realizes all the illusions i listed above, and more) but because of his use of homonyms, based on what i've read about him from 'the establishment's' point-of-view

'the establishment' exists because of organization, the belief that life has value, or, among other things, that success and moreness (anything involving numbers) is 'the way to go'

but when i say 'the establishment' i don't really mean that

i mean everyone

almost all independent presses and 'cult writers,' 'cult people,' etc., anyone who wants to succeed, anyone who actually cares about life, who cares what happens to them beyond 'avoid pain and get pleasure' (though the kind of writer i'm describing will, after a while, come to not know these things (pain, pleasure), but just feel a sort of vague and bemused detachment or else bitter and hateful detachment (probably depending on if they had a happy childhood, among other things)

these are two examples of this kind of writer; jean rhys and fernando pessoa

i'm sure there are thousands of writers like these two whose work has not 'survived'

so the only way i can read them is to read them now, as they are being published

the kind of writer i'm talking about will often be extremely detached, wry, ironic, sarcastic, or meaningless; will write meaningless, pointless, unresolved stories in a 'cold' way, a sort of 'cold,' 'detached' voice

i haven't ever read, for example, the kind of tone and voice in say, matthew rohrer's poems, some of them, or in, say, lorrie moore's 'you're ugly, too,' or in the first few stories in ann beattie's distortions, in any book published before jean rhys' good morning, midnight in 1936

probably not because that tone and voice did not exist before 1936

i think there must be people in like 200 a.d. going around being sarcastic, depressed, and pointless; and writing about it

their writing just didn't 'stand the test of time'

for the reasons i listed above

okay

this has been fun

thank you for reading my essay about why this kind of writer will only ever be able to read by their contemporaries unless this kind of writer later in life writes from a different perspective or else has some 'academic' value, like pessoa, with his 'homonyms'

i didn't edit this thing

i usually do

i usually leave something like this for a few days and work on it a few days

but i've typed this same kind of argument elsewhere before

and people just called me stupid and immature

(which is probably why i will not 'stand the test of time')

so i didn't edit it this time

(and after a while i won't type these things anymore)

i didn't mean to type this essay

look at the beginning of this post; it's about those books i have

also, replace 'homonym' with 'heteronym' in this post

someone emailed me to correct that

a story by mallory coppenrath

this is a story by mallory coppenrath

A hamster moves his paw methodically at an espresso machine.
He’s making a latte.
When wiping the machine down, he burns himself. Screams “FUCK” loudly.
A lot of people look at him. A tall woman in large sunglasses snorts.
His small eyes move downward.
He puts the rag on top of a puddle of milk on the counter.
Two hours later his boss calls him into the back room.
Tells him he must know why he’s been called into the back room.
The hamster nods.
He isn’t sure if he should’ve nodded.
His boss tells him, he says, “You can’t scream FUCK when you’re working. In fact, you cannot scream FUCK even if you come in here on your free time.”
Every time his boss says the word “fuck” he makes sure to say it loudly.
The hamster feels as though he’s being threatened, but he’s not sure why.
His paw is throbbing when he closes the door behind him.
He works at Starbucks, with several other hamsters.
One day, he puts skim milk in somebody’s drink instead of soy.

bear parade

bear parade

bear parade

bear parade

bear parade

bear parade

bear parade

the next bear parade book will be by michael earl craig

that was an announcement

which means you have to link to it and talk about it on your blog

before you click the first link that is in the sentence below this one you must paypal binky.tabby [AT] gmail.com at least $50

a gmail chat poem with a person that will have a bear parade book in the future

if you don't follow the instructions that are in the title of this post i will kill you

the MFA in hamsters

a bear

i am writing a novel online

the novel is called ezra kire

i will not talk about myself

the novel will not be autobiographical at all

this is amazing

because the novel involves drugs, poverty, homelessness, and an interesting and political sub-culture, i might win the pulitzer prize, the national book award, and the other award

matthew simmons pre-ordered two copies of my book and his envelope made me laugh

here are people who will be in the first poetry update for 3 a.m. magazine after the site relaunches:

rosie sharp
mallory coppenrath
matthew simmons
mike young
richard grayson
ellen kennedy

all these people should become friends with one another, start a plan to move to alaska, a small house in alaska, a two-story house, and then move there, and write poetry together, in a tent, nearby a frozen tree, with a polar bear on a glacier

i am reading thirty poems on sunday

i have a reading

Sunday, March 19 ~ 6 PM
Cannibal Release Party
Jim Behrle, Anthony Hawley, & Tao Lin

The Fall Cafe
307 Smith Street
Between Union & Pacific
Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn
F/G to Carroll Street

the person says i can read for twenty minutes

my goal with this reading is to read as many poems as possible until something happens

i have around a hundred poems

i don't care

i can go over twenty minutes

the email says it is a party

i have twenty minutes to read over one hundred poems

this is my goal

i also want someone to bring me cake after i read

this is a party

there should be vegan ice cream cake

it should be iced coffee cake with blueberries

many poets sound like melodramatic gods when they read

it is strange for a god to be melodramatic

i have interviewed karen ashburner and that will be here soon

the thing i just linked to also links to a novel called hamster that noah cicero and i wrote

this is a novel that no one cares about

the only poet i have ever enjoyed hearing is matthew rohrer

i am tired of poets writing poems that i don't enjoy

more poets need to write poems that i will enjoy

i enjoy noah cicero's poems

noah, email me a poem so i can post it on this site

i am typing to noah right now

everyone else go away

pre-order my book

noah, pre-order my book

just kidding

you get one for free

you gave me your books

thank you

every post on this site from now on will tell the reader to pre-order my book

this is my job

seventy people need to pre-order my book for me to pay rent each month

blurb my e-book

you can now blurb my e-book

this is a good feature

thank you, gene morgan

i feel sarcastic

i want to call everyone a motherfucker, everyone who is reading right now

motherfucker

i feel strange

i forgot how to blog

i am doomed financially as a writer

i can only write poems now

i am writing a poem about singing hamsters

what is wrong with me?

email me and tell me what is wrong with me: tao.tao.tao.tao.tao [AT] gmail.com

i have great news

i figured out how to email myself places

this is real

cnn can link to me now

i'm smart

also, i am going to interview michael earl craig

he has agreed

he said if he freaks out we can just slit his throat

i agreed

i am also going to interview richard grayson in the future

if anyone reading this wants to pay me money to write things for them please email me

i am a writer

i have books coming out

i can make my face look like it's concentrating

this is important


*photo copyright rosie sharp

please give me writing jobs

i am serious

i think it's called 'commissioning'

please commission me for things

also, lorraine graham, you said you pre-ordered my book

but you did not pre-order my book

i have none of your cash

what's going on

something terrible has happened to this blog

i feel afraid

i don't know what is happening

please tell me what is happening in the comments section

something terrible has happened to this blog

i am going to blog then eat some peanut butter

i am going to blog

here is what it is to blog

okay

i am ready to blog

here i am

i will blog

okay

my rooommate nick antosca has started a blog

now i will comment on what i just linked to

alright

nick's blog looks like how i feel

nick's blogging voice also sounds like how i feel, on the inside, and i like that

okay

matthew simmons has interviewed brian beatty

i went there and made a comment and no one cared

matthew simmons is in the warren wilson MFA-type program

i am 3 a.m. magazine's new poetry editor

i am soliciting the following poems, and these are the only poems i will accept, and you should email them to tao.tao.tao.tao.tao [AT] gmail.com

That A Public Space, the Famous Magazine, Exists Causes More Pain and Suffering in The World Than if A Public Space, the Famous Magazine, Did Not Exist

this one should be all facts; each line will be a fact; after enough facts, the title will be proven; that's the poem

Salman Rushdie Likes Baseball More Than Writing

this one should have quotes from salman rushdie of him talking about baseball; they can be real quotes from interviews or ones you make up, using your imagination

Scott F. Fitzgerald Got Sad Sometimes And He Liked Hunting

this one should talk about the phenomenon of people who are melancholic, and sort of whiny about it, yet are able to go hunting and kill animals and do other stupid things, acting like assholes to people all the time, thereby proving, despite their emo-y type feelings, their masculinity, bravery, superiority, real existential anguish, etc.

noah cicero blurbed my poetry book, which i want you to pre-order

his blurb is a poem and it's ten blurbs

here is my blurb for noah's blurb-poem

Noah's blurbs made me want to email myself into the world of his blurbs.In the world of Noah's blurbs no one is an asshole. Everyone is sad and they go around talking shit about assholes, saying things that don't make sense but are funny, and kicking things on the sidewalk and kicking like buildings, cars, and talking shit about SUVs and jumping over plants and things like that.

noah is the author of three published books, which is more published books than anyone reading this site right now

burning babies, the condemned, and the human war

here is noah's blurb-poem for my book of poems, YOU ARE A LITTLE BIT HAPPIER THAN I AM, which i wrote

I enjoyed it

I like that there soft lines juxtaposed next to terse ugly lines involving vacuums

He is like if Lorrie Moore and Charles Bukowski had sweet but dirty sex and had a little Tao baby

This book is like some things, but this blurb is not saying hi to me, and I'm going somewhere and someone has emailed and it a long email and this blurb is not saying hi to me so please leave me alone

There are no boat and sea poems in it. Which makes it better than 99.9 percent of poetry books that have come out since the Beatniks all died

You can tell he went to college but he doesn't know why

I am positive now that I will never have kids after reading his poetry book

The only critique I have of this poetry book is that Tao Lin is from Florida and there is no mention of Disney World

there's more

blogging is not done yet

bear parade

go to bear parade

here is what i think bear parade is about

bear parade is about elimating bullshit

what is bullshit?

bullshit is abstractions, circuitousness, arbitrariness, societal pressures, the idea that art can be criticized unselfconsciously and that that is 'good,' the idea that there are such things as 'good' or 'bad' in art without first knowing the meaning of life, the ideas that books are 'artifacts,' that you need to 'hold it,' and that 'it's just, uh, better if you can hold it'

yeah

i am also a kind of an editor, or something, now, for bear parade, i think, gene said, sort of, in an email, so i can say these things about bear parade

we are trying to get michael earl craig to submit things for bear parade

literary magazines are stupid, by the way, and everyone should self-publish, on the internet

if you are financially secure and don't self-publish on the internet then you are in love with abstractions; you exist inside an abstraction and the abstraction rubs your head and makes you do things

abstractions are words like 'respect,' 'legitimate,' 'pulitzer,' 'prize,' 'unseemly,' 'ewww'

wait, i think i got that definition wrong

yeah, i really don't even know the definition of the word 'abstract'

it doesn't matter

gene morgan is writing an open letter to rick moody that will be posted on the bear parade blog soon i think

blogging is done

i am done

i have blogged

now i will eat peanut butter

eating peanut butter is not a reward for blogging

i'm just going to do it

go read my e-book for free

i talk about eating peanut butter in there

all most anyone cares about is the last poem

the thing about abstractions is that you are leaving the real world for the dream world

which is fine

that is great

but most people who leave the real world actually do not want to leave the real world

they say things like 'life-affirming,' 'george bush is a liar,' and 'stories matter'

which contradicts their supposed 'dream world' worldview

which is great, i guess

the universe itself is a contradiction

consciousness is like a contradiction

there is no rhetoric in this post

just facts

i think

besides that one part