Category Archives: publication news

Only Over My Dead Body

I love working on poems tied to a single, linking concept. One of those was my Kama Sutra series where each poem was the Kama Sutra of a person, a place, or a thing (here’s some of my favorites). Lately, my poem cycles have involved documenting things leading up to a relationship, the aftermath of a relationship, the disintegration of a relationship (with the exception of the Porn for the Blind series) but never the inner workings of how a relationship failed.

As of tomorrow, it will be five weeks since I broke up with my most recent girlfriend. The cycle I’m writing now helped me realize what I was willing to tolerate in said relationship, what I shouldn’t be willing to tolerate. After two more (it’s based on the Doomsday Clock), I’m done with that series.

I retreat back to fiction when I’m happy. I have nothing to document in that state, having the emotional clarity to create something new. All this introspection causes the poems to come out.

I wish sometimes that the emotional clarity in the poems would come out in the non-poetry moments that matter, the arguments, the serious discussions. I also wish that I wasn’t such a chameleon in a relationship, adaptable to the point where it can be harmful to my own ego and self-worth.

As of Monday, I’ll be in Memphis on business for 13 days, 12 nights. It will be isolating. Hopefully the acute void will help with some other writing projects that I’m working on.

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I’m guilty of starting concepts I never finish with. One was this concept (I lost the anger and the emotional velocity. You can purchase some of the best of parts of this concept here) and the other was a collection of flash fiction pieces where each story ends with a Mexican standoff. This piece, published by The Holler Box, is from that failed idea. Enjoy. Bonus points if you know where the title came from.

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I normally don’t drink before I read. However, I did at the latest Mr. Pierre’s Hump Day show because I was doing work I’ve done before and I had a hard day. I performed this with a band backing me and it was a blast.

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Backstroking

Last May, James Tadd Adcox talked of putting together an anthology about angels with many terrible heads and etiquette after our Cinco de Awesome reading at Quimby’s. I was surprised when he came to me to contribute to it. I was surprised to see my boss over at NAP put it together. I saw it last night, and it is the most gorgeous e-book I ever seen. Click on the cover to get to it and check out the insane brilliance.

I went to Williamsburg for 24 hours to see The Afghan Whigs this past weekend and while it didn’t provide the catharsis The Cure provided last year, the trip gave me quite the recharge, feeling fall weather for the first time this year, seeing a concert for the first time since The Cure last year.

I’m liveblogging my restructuring and reevaluation and I am making progress in admitting some hard truths to myself. I recognize that I cannot casually just share my life with someone. I am a busy guy and I want someone who will contribute to it positively, not become a weight. I also recognize that I have a problem speaking up when I need to, allowing my politeness to be my downfall at times. I’m working on it, I swear.

Next Wednesday, I will read smut at The Peacock Room. Show starts around 9. Let me turn you on. Or out. Or off.

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Speak My Language

My work has been officially translated into a different language and this is a really cool honor. P. Jonas Bekker liked my chapbook, A Patchwork of Rooms Furnished by Mistakes so much, he asked to translate them into Dutch. I wasn’t expecting them to be published and it was a nice surprise when he told me Blue Turns Grey took them. It’s interesting to see the Google translate turn them from Dutch to English, how much is changed or lost. You can check out the Dutch version of the chapbook here.

Justin Sirois and I read together for the first time this past Tuesday and I read a Jesus Christ, Boy Detective story and the chapbook and I recalled the emotions when I wrote those poems and they weren’t painful at all to read aloud (unlike a certain other book). Also, Justin is a pretty awesome guy and a terrific writer. I just finished his novel Falcons on the Floor and enjoyed it a lot.

It’s interesting how movies like Red Dawn celebrate Americans when they are essentially insurgents but yet Iraqis doing the same thing in Fallujah (and overall in Iraq during the second Iraq war) are looked down upon. I would be interested in seeing a Red Dawnesque movie from that perspective.

Go see Looper and Robot & Frank if you can. Both are great science fiction movies that bend traditional sci-fi tropes (time travel, robots).

Due to a business trip that came up, I had to reschedule my talk at Orlando’s Pecha Kucha night. I am incredibly saddened by this and hope I don’t have to reschedule this again. However, I will be appearing at the next Hump Day show at The Peacock Room on October 17. This is was a lot of fun last time and I’m looking forward to doing it again.

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I Get To Dress Up And Play The Assassin Again

Break ups are always a time of great introspection for me. After each one, I isolate myself a little to figure out what went wrong and how do I do things better next time.

I’m 0 for 3 with relationships since the divorce. This doesn’t mean that I’m not better off with my ex-wife but I haven’t stumbled onto someone where I’m not thinking of an exit strategy. I understand everything ends and that understanding has skewed my perception to where I am always prepared to walk from a relationship if I need to, even passive-aggressively making it happen because I lack the courage to just say it. I also understand this survival strategy may cause me to be always alone because I’m not willing to put myself all in as I have experienced the consequences for doing so. This also could mean I need to make better choices, to not fall/fuck quickly.

I have documented my life online in some shape or form since 2002 and reading my old LiveJournal entries made realize where I’ve been, how far I’m coming. I’m not sure where I’m going though with love. I have direction and purpose with writing and work but not with love. I don’t need love or someone. It’s a want. I also realize that I’m more honest with strangers online than I am with the people in my life because there’s no risk for doing so. It’s something I have to pull into the real world in order to be a better partner, a more honest partner.

I wrote about my waning faith in the concept of forever here and I wrote it there because I don’t want to clog this site with the personal unless I have to.

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I am reading with Justin Sirois this Tuesday at Sip. This will be his first time reading in Orlando, despite being from here. I’ll read a couple of my Jesus Christ, Boy Detective stories. We got a nice shout out in the Orlando Sentinel here.

Bodies Made of Smoke is close to making it to the printers and it is gorgeous. We worked really hard on this one and I am so proud of what we’re putting out. More to come as it gets closer to release time.

Speaking of Jesus Christ, Boy Detective, I am on a break from the series right now and it’s the right time to take a break. In this transitional state, I return to poetry because that’s where I can channel a lot of what I feel into it in a constructive manner (that and creative flash non-fiction).

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Got A Fighter Jet I Can’t Fly

I work in the private sector and it’s because I work in the private sector, I take a very common sense approach to everything so when I get things in the mail like a flyer for the Palm Beach Poetry Festival next year and see how much they are charging for workshops ($725 if you qualify to participate, $350 just to hang out and listen in said workshop), I am staggered by the economics of this. While the workshop facilitators are quite qualified and are big names in the poetry game, I’m not sure paying that kind of money for a 16 hour workshop is good economics. Yet, the demand is there to where they can charge that amount and fill those slots, like when Elton John or Madonna charges hundreds of dollars for concert tickets because of their legacy.

It’s not just festivals like this that bother me. AWP charges everyone, even panelists (albeit a smaller amount) to come in and play to sit in on lectures and buy books. The National Poetry Slam provided competitors SWAG, gave access to all shows, and tickets to finals, well worth the $400-$500 for a team (which equates to about $100 per person for about five days of programming – a bargain). The only non-poetry slam related conference that seems to make any sense in terms of pricing and value is Conversations and Connections, which I’ll most likely attend in lieu of AWP next year. It seems incredibly practical.

Note: private industry has it’s share of strange economics as well. My field (corporate training) has a professional organization, the American Society of Training & Development (ASTD). I went to one of their mini-conferences six years ago and wasn’t convinced on how useful they would be to me. Their memberships fees and their conference fees ($1,100 to attend a conference if you are a member, $199 for a yearly membership) make AWP and the Palm Beach Poetry Festival look like bargains.

I’d like to facilitate a workshop and I would be pretty reasonable about my rates. If you want to hit me up for one, e-mail me and we’ll hash it out.

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I have copies of my latest chapbook, We’re Not In Kansas Anymore and I’m making an offer you shouldn’t refuse. To learn more about it, click here. If you are on Tumblr, let’s be Tumblr friends.

My latest installment of I Am Trying To Break Your Sex Laws is up. You should read it here and then submit a question.

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I Got One Bullet Left In My Nine

I read my LiveJournal earlier to help with writing a non-fiction flash piece and as I read my entries, I asked myself:

  • Why was I such an emofucktard?
  • How did any woman fuck me despite this glaring disability?

Since first grade, I’ve chased after women, after the concept of love and soulmates, written terrible poems, made poor life choices because I thought this person I was supposed to be with was the ‘one’. I ignored red flags like pathological lying and emotional abuse with this belief that love conquers all; not really. My own fickle nature didn’t help in most of these relationships. The divorce made me better. Therapy gave me clarity.

I will cop to some moments of emotional cowardice. I haven’t handled my exits well, allowing others to make that decision because I’m too timid, too scared to say ‘it’s time for you to leave’, to say ‘y’know, I really don’t want children’. I’ve also been guilty of placing unrealistic expectations on relationships. Recognizing all of these things, I stopped doing them and helped in my current relationship, which has gone pretty well. It’s a shame it’s taken me about 17 years of dating to finally get something right.

I finished my Jesus Christ, Boy Detective novelette/novella and revised the hell out of it last night. I am letting it sit for a little before I go back and do a little more revising before unleashing it without remorse upon the world.

Speaking of Jesus Christ, Boy Detective, my JCBD story “The Early Bird Gets The Shaft” is in the latest issue of Whole Beast Rag. The issue is a murderer’s row of brilliance. Check it out for free right here.

Three of my Porn for the Blind poems are live on the latest issue of Linden Avenue. Check them out here.

Finally, I am delivering a talk on how to get published in literary journals at the next Pecha Kucha night in Orlando. Click here for more details about the show.

Finally, make sure you follow me on my Tumblr.

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Here On Front Street

I’ve been feeling drag ass about life lately, infected with a consistent, low grade misery that hasn’t made a whole lot enjoyable. The last live concert I saw was at a wedding (and they was a very good cover band). I haven’t been genuinely inspired by art/lit since my reading with Vouched Atlanta in April. I need something to shake the doldrums out of me but I’m not sure what will do it.

It’s moments like this where writing keeps me sane. I just wrapped up the first draft of a Jesus Christ, Boy Detective novella/nephew, wrote another Jesus Christ, Boy Detective adventure of an alt lit cityscapes anthology, and some Porn For The Blind poems, along with my regular responsibilities with MonkeybicycleNAP, and my outgoing duties with PANK. I’m shopping around another poetry MS to some publishers here and there. However, the constant writing and working can’t be good, I know. Any suggestions y’all have on a recharge would be awesome.

I have a new chapbook out through Deadly Chaps, a new Jesus Christ, Boy Detective adventure called We’re Not In Kansas Anymore. It was a lot of fun to write and hopefully it’s a lot of fun for you to read. You can read it for free here and order a copy if you enjoyed what you read.

My first installment of I Am Trying To Break Your Sex Laws 2.0 is now up monthly at Heavy Feather Review, which you should read here.

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The Weight Is Off

In 2009, I answered an ad on PANK‘s blog looking for a copyeditor, a way to get a foothold into something outside of poetry slam, and they accepted my application. One of the perks of copyediting was also writing interview questions for the contributors to the online portion (which in my then slam world, was a nice crossover when Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz became the first person I interviewed for the magazine). I proved to be a shitty copyeditor with the work stress, the marriage stress, the first book tour/promotion stress, the drinking to cope with that stress. However, people really liked the interviews. For the first time I think ever, people liked me. It was strange. PANK also recognized my interview skills and granted me the post of Interviews Editor on March of 2010; I finally felt like a cool kid.

PANK has been a lot of things to me. It was a gateway to a whole other universe of literature I wasn’t aware of being so focused on running a poetry slam. It allowed me to meet incredible writers and find out their human side through their willingness to answer my interview questions (and y’all have been good sports). It kicked open new doors, eventually leading me to posts with NAP and now Monkeybicycle.

The June online issue will be my last as Interviews Editor of PANK. I walk away from this happily and freely, proud that I had the honor and the privilege to contribute to the PANKverse for nearly three years. I wish those who will be eventually taking up the mantle great success, and that PANK continue kicking ass and taking names.

I also decided I will now be participating in grad school after all. My work schedule is too busy and the class syllabus places 3/5 of the class grade on group work. I work in groups where I am paid to work in groups, where there are clear financial consequences if you don’t play well with others. My experience with group work in school on the other hand has been miserable at best. Instead, I will be buying a new computer and subscribing to some software to hone my technical skills (thinking Mac).

These past few days, Monkeybicycle has published my first couple of selections as their new Web Editor. You should read them here and here.

I have a flash piece in the latest issue of A-Minor Magazine, which you should read here.

I have taken over filming There Will Be Words, which you should check out here (and we are always looking for submissions here).

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The City Is Dead Since You’ve Been Gone

The last five days, I went to New York City (Bushwick to be exact) for a friend’s wedding. This was the first time I have gone to New York without a significant other or stayed with a friend/family.

Thursday – I landed early, got to where I was staying and was rattled when I saw the neighborhood I was staying in. Learners in my training class shuddered when I mentioned I was staying in Bushwick and I understood why. The apartment itself was incredibly lovely and my host was very nice. I placed my stuff down and made the two hour journey to see my grandparents for the first time in two years. I made my way back, showered, changed, and headed out to Greenpoint where I hung out with a lot of people I haven’t seen in years. My best friend/groom and I had a chance to have one last drink together before we parted and I told him the most important lesson I learned from my failed marriage: don’t let the legal status of marriage change their relationship as it is today. In the cab going home, I noticed the guy didn’t turn on his meter at all and was navigating him back to my place. When he asked me for cash, I told him I didn’t have any and he turned on his meter while we were parked in front of where I was staying. Despite the bullshit move, I tipped him $5 since I saved about $10-$12 getting home. However, I did not notice until the next morning I lost my iPod Touch, making this the second Apple product I’ve lost in New York in the span of two years.

Friday – I have to redact most of the details of this night as it is written in man law when it comes to bachelor parties. What I’m allowed to show you is this USA vs. Soviet Union hockey game I played. I haven’t seen one of these things in a long time.

Also, I had my first, and last taste, of the Chicago chemical known as Malort. While it is easy going in, it leaves the taste of rimming Swamp Thing on your tongue for a long time.

Saturday – I haven’t seen a live Yankee game in over twenty years. My plan to drink as little as possible the night before to ensure I would make the early game and it worked. I was also glad that I had grandstand seats.

What I was not happy about was the Yankees hitting like shit that day. I left at the top of the eighth inning, knowing the Mariners pitching broke them that day. The final score: 1-0.

I got back to the apartment, changed, and headed out to the rehearsal dinner in Park Slope, where The Squid And The Whale was filmed. We had some amazing Italian food before the party broke down. We headed to the Wyeth hotel for drinks. The price of the cocktails were staggering, but the view was gorgeous.

Sunday – I picked up my suit from the cleaners, hung around the apartment for most of the day, then made my way to the wedding venue.

The groom, is a music journalist. The bride, went to school for music, and recently became an academic adviser for Julliard. They love music and the venue so it made sense for them to choose The Bellhouse to get married in. They got married on stage.

After, we had cocktails, dinner, and danced to a kick ass live band with a very specific playlist, including The National’s “Slow Show”, They Might Be Giants, “Birdhouse In Your Soul”, The Dismemberment Plan’s “The City”.

I had one sad bastard moment at the wedding, I’ll admit. Despite being five or six drinks in, when they played the original version of The Postal Service’s “Such Great Heights”, I lost it a little as the Iron & Wine cover was my second wedding dance song. Other than that moment, I enjoyed myself tremendously.

Monday – I awoke on the couch at 6:45 am, still fully dressed. I had no idea how I got home. I checked my wallet, my pockets, and nothing was lost. I looked at the door and saw it was locked, my set of keys hanging next to the door, my jacket hanging in the bedroom. I was frantic though, worried that I did something stupid at the tail end of the reception, but found out that I just walked out without saying goodbye, the nine bourbon/ginger beer cocktails and one glass of champagne putting my body on autopilot and getting me back from Williamsburg to Bushwick intact. Again, I am amazed the my blackout autopilot is that competent. It took me the entire day to recover. I will not be drinking for a bit because of that marathon.

And the whole not drinking thing sucks because I’m performing in an erotica show at The Peacock Room tomorrow/today at 9:00 pm. I’ll be reading a new poem. There will be burlesque dancers. More details here.

I have a new poem in Commas & Colons here.

I wrote a Jesus Christ, Boy Detective mystery/adventure just for xTx’s Supermodel Summer, which you should read here.

Finally, I have a flash fiction piece in the latest issue of the Heavy Feather Review, which you should buy here.

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This Was The Gun I Used When I Was A Prostitute

One of my best friends is getting married in Brooklyn this weekend and I’m going (and not talk them out of it). I haven’t taken a trip for longer than a day that didn’t involve doing a reading/feature or working out of one of our offices in our many locations ever. I’ve been training my liver for this marathon of drinking it will endure from Friday night until the wedding this Sunday.

I haven’t been to a wedding or a wedding related event since my own in October 2008. I’m looking forward to this for a lot of reasons. The best part of going though isn’t the wedding itself or seeing old friends. I get to go to a Yankees game for the first time since 1991.

From ages 3 to 6, my mom and I lived in the Bronx. During that time, her then boyfriend, my eventual stepfather, took me to Yankees game. We sat in the bleachers while he got drunk and high. He let me try beer when I was 5 and didn’t have it again until I was 21. They won every time I was there. I’ve been hooked ever since.

People look at me weird when I explain that though I was born in Massachusetts, I am a Yankees fan (however, I love the Boston Celtics since the days of Larry Bird – I will always root for them) and people feel better when I tell them I’ve been a fan of the Yanks when they sucked in the 80s, not when they started winning again in the mid-90s and have been perennial playoff favorites since then. I still am a fan despite the fact they allowed the Red Sox to finally win a World Series in almost 100 years (I blame that all on A-Rod). The game is early Saturday afternoon, which will prevent me from entering into a alcohol coma or going to jail during the bachelor party the previous evening.

I got an override from UCF today to enroll in my first course for the Instructional Design for Simulations Certification program. I wasn’t expecting that one class to cost a hair short of $1,200. I don’t understand the economics of graduate school, where because it is learning beyond the four year degree, colleges can charge what would essentially be a down payment to a house or a nice used car for a semester. What justifies the mark up? Demand? The level of effort required to teach a class or several classes? I know I’ll get reimbursed for this eventually since this pertains to my job. However, I also see how people get into mountains of debt in seeking a graduate degree. At the end of this, I will invest over $6,000 in getting this certification. I hope it’s worth it.

I bought Shane Jones’ Daniel Fights A Hurricane on my Kindle earlier today. I absolutely loved his first novel, Light Boxes. I’m about 17% of the way in and it’s pretty interesting. I’m enjoying the narrative within the narrative he’s using so far. I’m a sucker for stories within stories, story A and B separated but eventually entwining.

I haven’t touched the novel in a couple of months. However, I’m almost 8,000 words into a Jesus Christ, Boy Detective story and I have a feeling it will need a few thousand more before it is finished in the first draft phase. I’m also working on a series of poems based off the non-profit site Porn For The Blind. You’ll start seeing those poems make an appearance here and there in the coming months.

I have a new poem in the latest issue of Northville Review, which you can check out here. I have three poems in the debut issue of Undertow Magazine, which you can read here for free (scroll until you see them).

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