New post on the Artifice blog, here.
New work forthcoming in the February issue of The Collagist.
From my office I can see the Sears Tower through a tiny, slit-like window between two masses of concrete.
My first book of fiction, The Map of the System of Human Knowledge, is now up for pre-order, here.
I am in a department store in London, my aunt and uncle and grandmother are around me, I am on my back and screaming, I scream three times
before this, in the dream, I witnessed my friend Carlos get into a fight, someone approached him in the street while we were talking and began threatening him, Carlos in self-defense or out of fear stabbed the man in the neck, blood suddenly everywhere, on my clothes even though I wasn’t directly involved in the fight
the police arrive, but I don’t remember what happened then.
I have work forthcoming in Redivider and > kill author. I also have a short, journalistic-style essay in the most recent issue of American Book Review.
In the coffeeshop I am in right now there are pictures signed “Thomas Kinkade” but I do not think that they are by Thomas Kinkade.
At dinner Robert and Viola’s uncle discuss the secret law. “I’m in favor of it,” Viola’s uncle says. “These are drastic times.”
“Is it about to come back up for a vote?” Robert asks.
“It’s unclear whether the secret law requires a vote or not, constitutionally. At least that’s what they’ve been saying. Though I figured you’d know more about that than me…”
“I don’t work in the secret law,” Robert says. “I do corporate litigation. Regular kind.”
“We bought all these baby toys,” Viola’s uncle tells Robert, later on that night. “We were pretty sure this time, you know? Like we had this feeling. She seemed to be doing so well. And then when we heard from Vivi that this one wasn’t going to make it either, we had to take all those toys and things back. They have this one toy you can get now—” Viola’s uncle gestures, trying to explain the toy. “I would’ve killed for something like that, when I was a kid,” he says.
I am working on a “Best of Everything” year end list for my friend Keith at Frontier Psychiatrist. Current contenders: Lentil soup, blue lights, a variety of books that were not published in 2011 but that I am just getting around to reading now (Journey to the End of the Night, JR, Mason & Dixon), the dying FYE store downtown that only weird old men seem to go to, ginger.
I have just received my copy of Mid-American Review in the mail. I’m excited to be in an issue with Brandi Wells and Lindsey Drager, both of whose work I really like.
The title of this post is a line stolen from one of the essays from Brian Oliu’s book So You Know It’s Me.
The Si Fan, or Murder Group, has been described by some social theorists as a program to teach sociopathy. Its methods are based originally on Neuro-Linguistic Programming (the effectiveness of which is itself quite controversial), though much of the modern terminology of the Si Fan seems to have been influenced by “business speak”: “compliance tests,” “influence paradigm,” “alpha/beta responses.” “Detoxing” is a recognized and common (some say necessary) phenomenon among them, particularly among the newer members. Human beings, at least those outside the so-called sociopathy continuum, can only look at other human beings as meat for so long before it affects them. Typical responses for members circa three to four months include paranoia, trouble sleeping, racing thoughts, difficulty breathing, a feeling that one might faint or “snap.” An unbearable tension. Tolerance for the Murder-Group worldview increases in time, the new member is able to go longer and longer periods without the need to “detox.”
you girls have been there: you finish a nice first date with a hot dude, you want to keep hanging with him but don’t want to go to another bar. you don’t want to go back to your place, because you aren’t sure whether or not this motherfucker is CRAY and can be trusted with your address. he offers drinks at his place, and since you have your taser you give it some thought.
<3 irby + ian
Recently, 2 of my stories have been adapted into short videos.
This one, by Garett Holden, from a story that’s coming out in Curbside Splendor #2
And this one, by Meghan Lamb at Red Lightbulbs
One of these videos inspired the following YouTube comment:
what in actual fuck is this shit???????? can this even be on youtube??
Guess which one.
Talk:Secret Journal Magazine
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Robert and Viola visit the new grocery store that has just opened. It is a wonderful grocery store. There is an entire aisle devoted to different varieties of kale. “It’s a little far to come regularly,” Robert says. There are beers in the cold beer aisle that Robert has read about on blogs about craft brewing: ninety-minute IPAs, one-hundred-and-twenty-minute IPAs. Next to the refrigeration unit is a table set up for a beer tasting. A tall black man with a long face hands Robert a small plastic cup of beer. “It’s infused with basil. I think it actually tastes quite remarkable.”
Viola and Robert sit on well-designed bar stools at the wine and coffee bar at the front of the store, drinking coffee and flipping through the free weekly. There’s a small arts festival at Eagle Creek Park. “Those are always horrible,” Viola says. “I mean, they’re really kitschy. Like a live band with a name like ‘The Governor’s Men’ playing covers of Steppenwolf songs and a bunch of booths selling paintings of trees,” she says. “I don’t mean it wouldn’t be fun,” she says. “It might be fun. We can go, if you want.”
