Maybe I should be stoned for posting this online……

I feel like I’m breaking sacred trust by republishing this online without asking… but I cannot help myself! May I be stoned for it! But this poem is everything to me at the moment and I sometimes wonder if I’m actually just an internet meme so in case that is what I am, here it is… I love you Dodie Bellamy! This may be the most perfect poem ever, unless I accidentally added in a typo-or-two… You can get a copy from Les Figues Press and really, it’s what everyone should be reading this Fall! I’m headed upstate for a last bout of summer, gonna jump into a lake and some shit!! Byeeee!!

Cunt Creeley
by Dodie Bellamy
Go fuck yourself. Now answer me—where is your body as your mind is jerked around on dried goose turd? I still love you—yes, you in that bed surrounded by books. It’s fitting that you so quickly come when I fuck you silly in a bed full of books. You’re so tough, the way you smack me down with your rebuff. I love it. I love it when you suck me, I love all the bloody things you’ve done. Oh wife, oh wife, you’re blowing my drowsiness all to hell. There never will be another woman in my thoughts, not when you send me your panties everyday, saying they’re for me, not for other men. You shoot shivers up my spine and into my nose. I will wear your panties, will wear whatever dresses your cunt. If flies were the sign of love, I’d adorn my prick with maggots the size of seals. My cock, my darling, loving your mercy, comes like King Kong up your cunt. We fuck forever in the spring, which makes my own worn self to sing. If I touch you ‘til the skin on your neck gets emergency shivers, morning or evening or afternoon, oh my lovely, I fuck you like I’m wringing all the oceans. Most lovely lady, whether you’re dressed or undressed is a sexual experience—a collaboration whether we’re going at it in bed or sitting only. Oh loveliest you are here and I fuck you silly between your lips, and, yes, you fuck me back, yes, my lady, whether you are just or unjust, you are fucking sexy, such a romantic. You can eat me, my lady, you can do whatever—I love seeing you hanging there with my balls. You are the best of ladies—in rain, in shine, in any weather. When my cock slides into you, we rhyme, like in those stories where the hero is beyond help. I’m here with you now, it’s magic, we’re fucking like Hercules or Aeneas going into death. I blur into you I’m moving so fast. We don’t need Virgil’s plan, not with you singing those torch songs of hoc opus, hic labor. This is the now, this kind of love just is—Virgil has been dead for two thousand understandings. I love your industrious wisdom, how you live in a way that hasn’t yet ripped your lips off. Let the heroes stay dead so I can propose to you with my dirty mind. You have me. You hold my weight. You must understand—there are chunks of cement everywhere. If you know what, say it. Don’t pretend. Like electric shock therapy, you know me in a prayer. Before you I’m helpless, helpless in an unreal situation. No woman ever was wiser than you, so my cock hangs above your face and what you take in your hand grows.

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The Next Big Thing!

Welcome to minorprogression’s installment of The Next Big Thing, a self-interview game of blog-tag. I was tagged by Amanda Davidson, who was tagged by Deb Poe the wonderful poet, novella-ist, editor, teacher, and champion of the hybrid form. Other links to check out are Susana Gardner, Claire Donato, Matt Runkle, Jackie Clark, Ren Evans and Jenn McCreary and more will be added every Wednesday.

The idea of the project is that tagged people answer this set of questions on their blog. The questions are geared toward an in-the-works book, but Amanda suggested everyone take the liberty of broadening the criteria to include more amorphous entities or small projects people are currently working on and even went so far to suggest everyone change the questions… I’m suggesting anyone interested should tag themselves and become part of The Next Big Thing! If you do so, link your self in the comments section!

QUESTIONS:

What is the title of the book or project you want to talk about?

Parasite.

Where did the idea come from for the book?

After I read and hated JT Leroy’s The Heart Is Deceitful Above All Things I knew a book for us and by us needed to be created. I know Parasite isn’t the first of this kind, but hopefully it’ll provide some justice in comparison to all the bullshit Sarah Albert created. Amazing writers like Dennis Cooper, Bruce Benderson, Dodie Bellamy and Kevin Killian got involved with Albert, thinking Albert was the real deal truck stop hooker she claimed to be and as Stephen Beachy later uncovered Albert was a fraud, the whole show ended up being the wrong kind of explosion, and hopefully Parasite will offer a more enjoyable-truthful-loving experience, with the hooker still the star. Not a heart of gold hooker, mind you, but you know, a hooker with some heart.

What genre does your book fall under?

It’s intended to be a genre buster! A little sci-fi, a little bit memoir, a little bit appropriated, ad a dash of glitter and heartbreak and maybe some methamphetamine?!

What actors would you choose to play the part of your characters in a movie rendition?

Ezra Miller would be the perfect Joshua Boyer!

What is the one sentence synopsis of your book?

“Queer is just a word for people too busy talking…”

How long did it take you to write the first draft of the manuscript?

It was a continual process of layering and took me seven years to complete.

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

Life. Numerous writing workshops. And all of my favorite writers – Kathy Acker.

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

There’s a lot of sex.

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

Publication Studios published it. It’s available here.

NOW! TAG! YOU’RE IT! PLEASE SEND ME YOUR LINKS TO YOUR PROJECTS!

In Memorium of Stacy Doris: The Cake Part

Recently the poetry community lost Stacy Doris. Last night at Lee Ann Brown’s home, a bunch of people gathered to remember Stacy. People read from her work and shared personal stories about the love and grace she brought into the world. It was a stunningly emotional night.

Stacy was born in Bridgeport, Connecticut. She received her AB in literature and society from Brown University and an MFA in English and creative writing from the University of Iowa.

Her books include Knot (University of Georgia Press, 2006), Cheerleader’s Guide to the World: Council Book (Roof Books, 2006), Conference (Potes & Poets, 2001), Une Année à New York avec Chester (P.O.L., 2000), Paramour (Krupskaya, 2000), La vie de Chester Steven Wiener ecrite par sa femme (P.O.L., 1998), Kildare (Segue Foundation, 1994).

A translator from French and Spanish, she has co-edited anthologies of French writing in translation including Twenty One New (to North America) French Writers (1997) and Violence of the White Page (1991). She is also the translator of Dominique Fourcade’s Everything Happens (2000).

Doris has also published two short books written in collaboration with visual artists: Mop Factory Incident (with Melissa Smedley; Women’s Studio Workshop, 1996), and Implements (for Use) (with Anne Slacik).

She taught at several colleges and universities including the University of Iowa and Hunter College.

Stacy Doris died on February 1, 2012.

Before she passed, Stacy Doris sent many of her friends translations of French Pornographic works she uncovered from the French Revolution. She sent the texts to many of her friends with instructions to make a video. This project is called The Cake Part. After people read and shared Stacy Doris’s work at last nights event, a bunch of videos from The Cake Part were screened.

And here they are for your enjoyment:

Continue reading

Spotlight on Masha Tupitsyn and her new book Laconia

Last night while I was prancing around as Dodie Bellamy at Heather’s celebrating the release of the buddhist, I encountered one of the most obnoxious examples of New York gentrification fascism I have ever dealt with and as if it couldn’t be more dire, it was from the mouth/hands of a “queer” person, a person I want to consider apart of my community, not an enemy… The experience reminded me of a section in the buddist wherein Dodie explains that if she lived next door to one of her friends, they definitely wouldn’t be friends. But Dodie explains the universe has allowed them to meet on grounds accommodating for parties, so they are able to see the good in one another and have a friendship “who, in a slightly different situation, I would hate… Lacan said, that all relationships are about finding the right distance….” I guess the following is a confession of my inability to find the right distance…

I stepped outside for a cigarette break with my girlfriend when outta nowhere a scowling little girl came barging up to us, demanding we relocate to the corner to continue with our cigarette. She was the barback for Heather’s and she cried that the bar’s neighbors would close Heather’s down if we didn’t immediately move up the block… For those unfamiliar with the bar, Heather’s, it’s located on the middle of a block in the bustling Lower East Side area, an area known for its eclectic mix of citizenry and for starting movements like punk rock and heroin chic. It’s a colorful neighborhood that has always welcomed in the weirdo’s that have escaped suburban nihilism. Anyway, I think last night was the first time I have ever been told not to smoke or that I’ve been too loud while standing in the Lower East Side.

The power trippin’ wanna-be trendsetting egomaniacal dyke that attacked me came careening at me with her eyes bulging from her sockets after having just finished harassing a guy for standing in the doorway with a glass of beer. At first I thought she must be best friend’s with the guy she assaulted for having a beer in the doorway because I thought her ferocity had to be sarcastic. But to my dismay I watched her come at me with the same level of anger. I knew I was dealing with a megabitch as soon as she opened her mouth because there was no level of concern in her demand, she simply wanted to be in power and tell me exactly what to do. My girlfriend is not one to backdown so when “megabitch” came at us and demanded we relocate up the street, my girlfriend yelled back. As they argued I cowered up the block, eager to avoid confrontation. I went three buildings up the street thinking that suffice distance to be removed from the bar but was I wrong! Not a moment after I puffed a puff, the little “megabitch-fascist-power-trippin’-wanna-be-trendsetting-egomaniacal-dyke ” reared her fugly little face, this time instead of just insisting I go to the corner she started name calling and threatening that I should be kicked off the block… I tried briefly to insist that being 4 buildings away was enough and besides, it was only 7pm, hardly late enough for neighbors to complain…

But it wasn’t enough… the little bitch just had to keep attacking so I demanded she recognize that everyone she was harassing was at Heather’s for an event that was giving her and her coworkers significantly more business than they otherwise would be receiving. Had we not all been there, Heather’s surely would have been dead and the tip jar empty. The little bitch needed her ego popped but it didn’t work… I asked her for her name, “Melissa Plaut” she yelled, “and you should google it because you obviously have no idea who you’re dealing with! You’re really gonna feel like a dooshbag after you google my name… Lemme spell it out for you, M.E.L.I.S.S.A. P.L.A.U.T. now go home and google it…” Then she dashed away… A few moments later the bartender approached me and asked what happened, told me she was there to “reprimand me” on behalf of the barback, we both laughed, acknowledged the absurdity of the situation, then went our merry ways…

Around this time, the fellow party attendees approached me and asked for my experience with the “fucking fascist” (name we gave her…). We all swapped stories and at some point I relayed my story to Masha Tupitsyn… Masha told me Melissa Plaut had just demanded she stop talking on her cellphone. Despite the fact that Heather’s was blaring music, Melissa Plaut thought it was inappropriate for Masha to talk on her cellphone on the sidewalk. After we finished bonding over our recent abuse we introduced ourselves to each other… I had seen Masha read a year or so ago at the RedCat in Los Angeles but never met her. She’s responsible for one of my favorite collections of writing on film, “Life As We Show It.” Once I realized I was sharing abuse stories with Masha, the incident evolved into a positive experience. Thanks Melissa Plaut for providing sucha awkward experience that I was forced to meet someone whose work I’ve admired for quite awhile! And soon I’ll be receiving a copy of her new book Laconia in the mail! Once I devour it, I’ll post a review with an interview with the author!

:::an aside for Melissa Plaut::: in the future I suggest you change your tone and how you approach people, had you been polite and nice and explained why you needed us to move up the street and stay off our cellphones I’m sure we would have been sympathetic to your request, there is no reason to attack paying customers! No reason whatsoever! Nor is there any reason for you to gloat about the things that come up when you google your name… so you made yourself a wiki page to promote your book, no one is impressed because you’re a total hack:::

Masha Tupitsyn
is a writer and cultural critic who lives in New York City. She is the author of LACONIA: 1,200 Tweets on Film (ZerO Books, 2011) Beauty Talk & Monsters, a collection of film-based stories (Semiotext(e) Press, 2007), and co-editor of the anthology Life As We Show It: Writing on Film (City Lights, 2009), which was voted one of the best film books of 2009 by Dennis Cooper, January Magazine, Shelf Awareness, and Chicago’s New City. She is currently working on a new book of essays on film and the star system, Screen to Screen and Star Notes, a book about John Cusack and the politics of acting. Her fiction and criticism has appeared in the anthologies Wreckage of Reason: XXperimental Women Writers Writing in the 21st Century (2008) and the Encyclopedia Project Volume II, F-K (2010) and BOMB, Keyframe, Puerto del Sol, 2nd Floor Projects, Vertebrae Journal, TINA, Venus Magazine, The Rumpus, Animal Shelter, Fanzine, Make/Shift, NYFA Current, Bookforum, Fence, Five Fingers Review, and San Francisco’s KQED’s The Writer’s Block. She regularly contributes video essays on film and culture to Ryeberg Curated Video, which features writers like Mary Gaitskill and Sheila Heti. She teaches writing and is a PhD student at The European Graduate School.

Here’s two reviews for Laconia:

Review
There’s something about the way Masha Tupitsyn’s mind works when she addresses gender and film. It’s different from how pretty much all other contemporary feminist theorists do it. Amid so much detached deconstruction, Tupitsyn’s criticism is refreshingly full of life. Laconia, a document of Tupitsyn’s public thoughts on film, is a stream of intimate, immediate, and specific reflections on movies, as well as a broad and sustained interrogation of things like whether we can any longer truly see corporatized cities like LA and NY other than in old movies, how to understand David Lynch’s women, and whether there is any real possibility for connection in social media, or for that matter, in watching films. (Jessica Hoffman, writer and co editor, Make/Shift Magazine)

The 1200 tweets that constitute Masha Tupitsyn’s LACONIA are, each one, an aphorism in a bottle set adrift into the midst of all the other crisscrossing messages that movies and the media universe have spawned and continually and more or less blindly emit. Everything is happening in real time – not recollected in tranquility but intercepted in passing – even when the messages emanate from the deep past or (perhaps) a future around the next bend. It’s a collage of the present moment, a continuous and unyielding dialogue, open-ended and alert to the barrage of signals that has become our home. (Geoffrey O’Brien, author of The Fall of the House of Walworth: A Tale of Madness and Murder in Gilded Age America, Hardboiled America: Lurid Paperbacks And The Masters Of Noir, The Phantom Empire: Movies in the Mind of the 20th Century.)

My Name Is Dodie Bellamy

I’m really excited to announce that the many intense surgeries, the agonizing hours of treatment, and the various new age seminars needed to transform me into a Super-Star-Female-Experimental-New Narrative-Writer have been completed and I am now Dodie Bellamy. Come celebrate with me and the release of my new book the buddist tonight at Heather’s in NYC. My latest book is all about this guy I was fucking – horribly I might add – while I was in transition… the story of my transformation has yet to be told, but it may… For now, I’m more concerned with trying to find a good homeopath in NYC… Any suggestions????

Here’s the party details:

Publication Studio — maker and destroyer of books — will be in New York on Thursday evening, April 28, for a free public event, announcing our Spring Line 2011. You should come.

You might know one of us (Matthew Stadler, Patricia No, and David Knowles) or you might know one of our authors and artists (Matt Keegan, Christine Shan Shan Hou, Lawrence Rinder, Colter Jacobsen, Ruby Sky Stiler, Dodie Bellamy, Carl Skoggard, Carter, Ari Marcopoulos, John Motley, Stacy Doris, Luisa Valenzuela, Joseph Redwood-Martinez, Collassus). If not, come meet us. The evening will be festive, the books robust and lovely, and the drinks delicious.
We meet at Heathers, 506 East 13th Street, New York, NY, between 7 and 9 pm. Authors (or their surrogates) walk the Spring Line runway at 7:30 pm. Music by DJDK. Beautiful books galore available for sale throughout. Bring your friends.
More information about Publication Studio is available online. Our Tumblr is also a good introduction.

Shampoo Poetry #38 the Tenth Anniversary Issue!!!!!!

The past ten years many great poets reached out to SHAMPOO proving just how squeaky clean even the dirtiest poem can be. I’m pleased to announce Shampoo recently released the 10th Anniversary Issue, and the issue contains a couple of my poems from my chapbook GHOSTS put out by BENTBOYBOOKS. It’s the biggest best SHAMPOO ever, with fantastic stuff by Tim Yu, Stephanie Young, Grzegorz Wróblewski (translated by Malcolm Sinclair), Tim Wright, Valerie Witte, Elizabeth Witte, Alli Warren, Dana Ward, Tim Vander Meulen, Joseph Torra, Halie Theoharides, Benmina Taquito, Dawn Sueoka, Louisa Storer, Suzanne Stein, Tim Shaner, Chad Scheel, RussWade, Meg Ronan, Kit Robinson, Mg Roberts, Beni Ransom, Kris Raido, Michael Pontacoloni, Ron Palmer, Billy X. O’Brien, Debrah Morkun, Trey Moody, Scott Metz, Catherine Meng, m.g. martin, Blake Lynch, Emily Liebowitz, D.W. Lichtenberg, Cassie Lewis, Rodney Koeneke, Jack Kimball, Kevin Killian, Larry Kearney, Alexander Jorgensen, Jill Jones, Matthew Johnstone, Becca Jensen, Paolo Javier, Chinedu Jonathan Ichu, Paul Hostovsky, Yuri Hospodar, Kallima Hamilton, Jaimie Gusman, Carolyn Gregory, Robert Glück, Leora Fridman, Andy Fitch & Jon Cotner, Rachel Finkelstein, Thomas Fink, Dion Farquhar, Adam Fagin, Elaine Equi, Melissa Eleftherion, Susie DeFord & Dennis Riley, P. Edward Cunningham, Brent Cunningham, Alex Crowley, Bruce Covey, William Corbett, Sean Cole, Bryan Coffelt, Justin Chin, Joseph Chapman, Otto Chan, Sabrina Calle, Craig Cady, Brandon Brown, Taylor Brady, Stephen Boyer, Bill Berkson, Melissa Benham, Dodie Bellamy, Jim Behrle, Rae Armantrout, and Shane Allison, along with SHAMPOOArt by Beni Ransom and Otto Chan, and a special documentary by Essential Films.

And remember, SHAMPOO is always accepting submissions.

ARIANA REINES INTERVIEW

Dodie Bellamy first turned me on to Ariana Reines two and a half years ago after she took me to see Rape of the Sabine Woman. I don’t remember exactly why Ariana was brought up while we drove through the rain and excitedly discussed the show we had just watched and became part of, but I am very thankful the name was dropped. When I got home I did some googling and found excerpts of “The Cow” posted online. I read the excerpts and immediately a fascination developed. Flash forward a few years and after much online stalking and book buying, I finally got to meet her after the staging of the second act of her play TELEPHONE which took place at the Guggenheim museum last fall.

This past year Ariana Reines has been segueing into music and more performative acts. Recently this manifested with her opening for one of my all time favorite bands and biggest crushes Psychic TV. When I found out Ariana was opening up for Psychic TV, I approached her and asked her to do an interview on the subject. Two days before the show, she read poems at The Red Horse Cafe as part of the P.O.D. reading series. As she opened up her reading, she gushed, “it’s really weird that I’m opening for Psychic TV and I’ve had the shits for the past 3 days so if I have to suddenly run off stage at any moment that’s what’s happening.” Later that night my life went up in flames, my long term girlfriend suffered a minor injury during her fire performance and we broke up. I too was suddenly in the shits… two days later Psychic TV cleansed my soul. By the time we got to a diner with Ariana, about four days later, my life had completely come undone. Dodie Bellamy posted the story I wrote about it all here.

When we first met up with Ariana for the interview, I was extremely nauseaus and unsure how I could function fully enough to work out a descent interview. But Ariana and JT were great. She annointed me with sandalwood oil and JT fed me lamb. Originally we set out to focus the interview on what it’s like to share the bill with Psychic TV but Ariana is such a major person, working on so many varied projects and giving so much of her energy to the world that it proved impossible to keep the interview tied to just one inspired subject. It brings J.T. and I immense pleasure to bring to you all an interview with the fabulous Ariana Reines.

MP: We finally get to interview you! How did you get in contact with Psychic Tv? What is your relationship with them like?

AR: It’s such an honor because I love you both. I first met Eddy their drummer two and a half years ago by chance. I had gone to see them before Lady Jaye died at the Bowery Ballroom. It was one of a few concerts I went to in my life alone. Because no one I was friends with was interested at the time, I don’t really know why. It’s funny I was talking to Eddy about this the other night. I’m in between a lot of things in my life and there are a lot of little worlds that don’t seem to spill over into each other even though I think they should and Psychic TV for me and Genesis Breyer P-Orridge is one, I don’t know, four or five years ago when I realized that Genesis Breyer P-Orridge existed, I happened to have the money and found out about the show and was able to go to the show all in time which usually doesn’t happen for me since I usually find out about things after they happen. Two years later I made friends with Eddy, we have the same birthday.

MP: Cool.

AR: A year ago Genesis and Eddy and Bryin were going to do a performance at the Issue Project Room but Genesis had to go into the hospital that day, and it was sort of a strange semi-cursed day in many ways. I hadn’t met Genesis and then she had this sudden lung inflammation, so Mal-O-Mar nite turned out to be the writers and Holy Shit but no Thee Majesty and Holy Shit was amazing, though of course we missed Thee Majesty. It was just sorta this tacit thing, I guess Eddy gave her some of my books.

MP: And Genesis must have loved them.

AR: I don’t know. We never discussed it. And then I was on the bill. I don’t really know what went on on their end of things. Is that an answer?

MP: Yes! Earlier we were talking about how people pay to go and see things, people spend time and plan to get tickets ahead of time, schedule the night off to give themselves to something, to take part in an experience but you get there and it seems so many people are just there to act like they’re hanging out at their local bar…

AR: Can I interject?

MP: Yeah, of course…

AR: Well a friend and I were talking the other night, she was the person I went to see Marina Abramovic’s “Seven Easy Pieces” with. I don’t know if you two know about this, but in 2005 Marina did I think seven nights of performances at the Guggenheim. Many of the performances were extremely violent and very difficult. But for me the most violent and difficult thing to bear about the performances was that people were talking throughout the performances. People talked like they were at any other sort of gathering where sophisticated people talk, like they were at the races, or if you have ever read Edith Wahrton she describes how high society people talked through the Opera. It’s like this is how a sophisticated acculturated place functions.

For me what was interesting and devastating about the Five Easy Pieces performances was that I felt she was providing an example of a kind of concentration that is lost to the world. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen her perform but she has an extraordinary amount of energy which she can communicate to those people who are really there, really there. Of course many people have a very powerful experience of her performances, and the internet has helped to document this; perhaps it has become more popular to offer oneself to her as her fame has grown? I don’t know. But I remember in 2005, it was a very peculiar situation. The Guggenheim was totally crowded, and it was this combination of a chic meet-and-greet and a space of radical emotional and psychical upheaval. It is not just that what she did or simply how she was made people cry.

My first time being in the New York Times happened then, by the way, not that this matters and they didn’t know who I was, but I yelled, “You don’t have to do this again” in a very wrung moment that bizarrely made it into the review of the show. She was cutting her stomach open and from one of the high coils of the Guggenheim a man yelled back “yes you do” and I started sobbing uncontrollably and ran out of the building, having definitively experienced the most overpowering trauma and elecrification ever inflicted on me by art. It was the most powerful experience I had ever had from a live art experience.

I turned my life upside down for a year forcing myself into what had made that experience so enormous for me. And not just for me. It seemed to me that her concentration and her generosity were a colossal triumph, because in many ways she in these performances was also merely a kind of centerpiece for high culture to rotate around like a carousel of painted ponies bobbing up and down. Like at a fine dinner there may be a centerpiece with plums and candles or whatever. Or a giant Thanksgiving turkey. And that was her. Or a maypole that people circulate around. And that is often what art is for people. And that’s also what ritual is. So it functions on both a low social level and on a very high level. And most of the people, or lets say half, are there to participate in it socially. But there are other people there that want to participate on another level or who cannot help it, who are hungry, whose souls are hungry.

I mean, opening for Psychic TV was weird…. Continue reading