July 12, 2015

When A Heart Comes To Save You

When a heart comes to save you, splay yourself as if dead.  Relax your body like the edges of a wound.  Look into its eyes.  See what saving looks like.

Look until you are sure you will never forget.

Then look some more.

When the heart lowers its rope, don’t be nervous.  It’s not a noose. The noose is already around your neck, long familiar, like a middle-school tattoo.  This is a saving rope. It’s here to take its place.

Put the rope round you, like the heart asks.  Coil its length around yourself, all the parts worth saving, which—as the heart says—is every bit of you.  Even the ugly.  Even the gross.  Wrap it round you until it’s become your skin.  Until breaths come barely and difficult.

When the heart begins its lift, trust.  You will fight at first, and this is expected.  The heart knows this and holds strong against your squirm.  Even as days pass. Even as months.  The heart lets you beat your head against the stones because it knows this is what you need to do before the saving can come.  The heart knows you will tire.


It knows you will remember what saving looks like.


It knows that when you remember, your body will go limp with trust, become weightless.  Only then will it pull you up.  Raise you from the darkness, into its waiting arms, blood-spent and ridiculous.

Go into those arms. Give the heart its reward.  Take some for yourself.  It was hard for you too.

After you are done, step from the uncoiled rope, turn, and look down.  Note the depths it pulled you from.  Remember that distance as you remember the saving.  

Remember it all.


never forget.

June 27, 2015

Two NEW things you can read:

The Show I Want To Watch (DFW)

The Street of Despicable Behavior  (Fanzine)

that is all

June 11, 2015

Wigleaf Top 50

Really thrilled to see my story, "Today I Am A Summer Field" on the Wigleaf Top 50 and my untitled story from Dogzplot on the Longlist.

"I still got it!"


im stupid.

May 10, 2015

And, We're Back!

I haven’t written here for a while. 

Hi Blog.

Blogs are “passé” now, right?  (looks up “passé” on dictionary dot com. Reads. Feels satisfied)  People have Tumblrs and Instagrams and Snapchats, not blogs.  Well, I’ve had this blog since 2002 when I was young and pretty and troubled and sad and I am still having this blog now that I’m old and not so pretty and troubled and sad. 

This blog is one of my closest friends.

This blog made me a writer.

I love this blog.

Thank you blog.  You may be passé but you’ll always be my bloggiest blog to have ever blogged. 

Today and every day for the last year I’ve had lots of things on my mind.  So many things it’s a wonder I have enough mind for them to all be on.  I imagine my mind a child’s crayoned island. One green half-dome with a lone palm tree and scalloped, pointed blue waves curve-spiking out to either end of the paper.  On top of that island, catacombs of things, piled and clustered, rising up and beyond the lip of the paper, Tower of Babel style, toward the heavens.  That poor island!  Hang in there island! (mind)

Today I won’t talk to you about those many things.  Instead I want to talk to you about birds.

I have a corner office at work.  This isn’t a brag.  I share the office with two other people.  My office has a spectacular view of Los Angeles.  I can see for miles.  It’s a birds-eye view.  When storms have come I can see lightning stretch from sky to treetop.  I can see all the planes and blimps and helicopters. It’s an amazing desk to sit at and I’m so lucky.

Now that we have established that I sit at a desk that looks out of a window at an amazing view, I will further explain that there is a patio outside of my window.  When you sit on the patio, you also have this amazing view.  I can watch people having lunch outside every day.  Chew. Chew. Chew.

There is a metal “overhang” outside of my window and for the past month a pair of Finches have set up a little nest in the little “nook” where some beams meet.  The nest eventually grew eggs which grew into baby Finches.  The parents fly in and out all day long.  In the quiet morning before my office mates arrive I would hear their “peep peep peeps” and it was lovely. 

It was right outside my window.  All day. Three feet from my eyes.

My office mates and I would remark on the nest and the babies and the parents from time to time, especially last week when the babies were now louder and sticking their little heads out from out of the nest.  Cute cute baby birds! Nature!

But, on Wednesday.

Wednesday we were in our office and it was morning and a crow came.

There are a pair of crows that frequent our patio.  They fly down and sit on the railings.  They are huge and scary.  One of them walks on the railing to a place where he can see his reflection in the window and then repeatedly attacks his reflection, bashing himself against the window over and over again. It makes a huge racket and everyone always stops to watch because OMG A CROW IS BASHING HIMSELF REPEATEDLY AGAINST THE WINDOW OF OUR OFFICES!

The crow came.  And, as we often do, we remarked about it.  He is magnificent in his scariness.  He is sort of like Beyonce in that, you HAVE to look at him.  His presence commands it.  He is tremendous.

As we were watching, he flies down below the nest.  He is on the ground right outside my window.  I stand up.

We all stand up.

We all get a dreadful feeling right then.  We say later we didn’t know what was going to happen but we all knew what was going to happen.  We will say later we didn’t know crows eat small birds, but we all knew somewhere, deep down, that they eat small birds.

AS WE WATCH he flies up to the rafters and pecks through the metal into the nest.  He gets one of the baby birds in his beak and takes him down to the patio floor.  The other baby bird falls out of the nest. In fright? Suicide?  I don’t know, but he falls.

We scream.  We are horrified. It happened so fast.

The crow pecks at the little brown-gray ball of fluff as we are horrified.  Then it hops over to the fallen baby bird and picks it up in his beak, hops back to the ‘pecked’ baby bird, picks it up in his beak and flies off with both of them in his glossy, black beak.

It was horrible.

It was funny too because “nature”.  Nature is rough and messed up and not gentle.  Like Honeybadger, Nature don’t give a fuck.  We just witnessed the no fucks right outside our office window.  Three feet away.

But it bothered us all day.  We couldn’t stop talking about it. 

Then the parents came back. 

We Googled “Do birds grieve?”

We Googled “What do crows eat?”

We learned a lot about birds that day.

Do I tell you that the crow came back an hour later and HE SWOOPED IN AND ATE AN ADULT FINCH WHILE I WAS WATCHING?!?!?!  OMG it happened and he did.  Swooped in, got him in his beak and flew off!!  It was insane! 

We screamed some more.

We called it “Birder” (rhymes with “murder”)

We’d never seen such things. Let alone within hours on the same day.

It was upsetting.  But cool as fuck. I’m not gonna lie.  It was nuts.

It bothered us all week.  All week I was nervous for the little Finches.  “It’s not safe here!” I would say to the glass whenever the little guys came around.  But they can’t hear me and they don’t know my language so it was for naught.

I don’t know why I’m telling you this or why I chose this to blog about after all of these weeks. I guess it really bothered me.  If I’m still carrying it and taking this Sunday morning to write it down, it must be still bothering me.  Or, maybe it was the feeling of being privy to something special.  Of nature at its purest or something.  Like that moment in Stand By Me when Gordie LaChance is sitting alone on the railroad tracks in the still of morning and the deer comes out of the brush and they look at each other for a quiet moment and then it runs away and Gordie decides not to tell the other boys because he felt it was just a special moment between him and that deer and telling them would ruin it or something.

I love that scene.  How sometimes tremendous, important, special things happen to us AND YOU WANT TO TELL EVERYONE BECAUSE OMG DID YOU SEE DO YOU KNOW WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!?!!? But then, you don’t.  And somehow, keeping that amazing thing sacred makes it even more so.  And carrying THAT around is and always will be forever yours.  Unspoiled and secret.  And maybe that is more important that telling. 

I dunno.  But, watch out for crows, man…

March 29, 2015

Catching Up

A flurry of things:

Dennis Cooper spotlighted me.  Sidebar: Man, I love Dennis.  I fell in love with his writing and when I met him, I fell in love with him.  Such a nice person.  His voice. His gentle demeanor.  He’s one of the best people, you guys.  He keeps unfolding and I follow.

I was interviewed for NERVE and for THE SPARK an Alternating Current Press Blog. Two separate interviews.  I am a ‘goddess’ and I am ‘mysterious’ and “irreverent”.  I know I am at least one of those things.

I “wrote” a thing about Porn videos over at Dark Fucking Wizard.

My new book, “Today I Am A Book” got a nice review at theSmall Press Book Review.  Thank you sweet Mel and Taylor.

I'm also part of a "feministh anthology" called "Choose Wisely: 35 Women Up to No Good" and it has Joyce Carol Oates, Aimee Bender, Amelia Gray, Linsdey Hunter and a bunch of other awesomes.

Life has been uninteresting as much as it has been interesting.  I am in a space between mirrors, but BEHIND them.  It’s a corridor.  There’s filth.  On the other side everyone is going about their lives, looking at themselves in the mirrors.  I can’t see through the mirrors.  But I know they are mirrors and I know people are looking into them.  I’m just in a weird corridor.  In a place where nobody can see me.  It smells old and musty and secret.  It goes on forever.  No. It doesn’t.  But it seems like it.  It’s really warm here, too.  I’m walking and sweating.  Anyway.  I’m just living my life in this weird hallway thing.  You guys keep on doing whatever you do in the mirrors.

AWP is coming up and I’m too fat for it. Oh well. I’m also not looking forward to social anxiety.  I’m doing a couple of readings I won’t advertise on my blog.  I don’t want anyone to go to them.  You know how I am.

My novel is in suspended animation.  Hopefully it will be unsuspended shortly.

I haven’t talked to my dad in a few months.  I think he might be in Lake Havesu. However you spell it.  Well, not IN the lake, but at the lake. I don’t know. Hey dad, WHERE ARE YOU?! 

My mom is future me.  She’s going to be crippled soon, fyi. She will need an operation and a wheelchair.  She’s convinced and she tells me all about it.  I try not to wince and cry.  She is down at the bottom of the mountain I have begun rolling down.

I have been into stairs lately.  A couple of different sets of ‘intense’ stairs.  I like walking up and down them while I listen to a “workout” playlist and sweat.  It feels pure. 

My ass is gigantic.  How can one ass be so gigantic?

If I meet you at AWP please pretend im not horrifying. Pretend I look normal and of normal body proportions.  Try not to recoil.  Buy me a drink so I feel better about our interaction.  Try to kiss me. Or tell me about the fantasies you had about me before you met me right now and are suddenly sick to your stomach and flaccid.  Lie to me about how much you liked my books.  Or just hug me and whisper, There, there. It will all be okay.  Your ass is average-sized, really.  Shhh….

March 02, 2015

Today I Am A Book

Hello Everyone!

Today is the official release date of my book, "Today I Am A Book" which is a collection of pieces that will do many different things to you.  

If you buy it, I will like you. 

If you buy it and I already like you, I will like you MORE.

To be liked, go over here and clickety-click to purchase!


February 15, 2015

A Collection of Needy Things

I was asked to submit a weird story for this collection and so I did. It's all about a gunt:

Thumbnail 6

I have a lot of shit things in my purse detailed here:

The Baginas

I wrote a poem. It felt really good to write this poem.

Dark Fucking Wizard

I was interviewed:

Nerve Magazine

January 14, 2015

Dear Mom,

Hi. How are you question mark.  I know that $75 check wasn’t enough. My plan is to write you 5 more checks for $100 each every other week.  With this method I will pay you back.  How are your hips?  Have you electrocuted yourself again?  You know, the more I think about it, I think it’s bullshit.  You’re Life Alert shouldn’t have malfunctioned and stopped your heart.  I know you were going to talk to your doctor about it so I guess just let me know what he/she says.  I mean, I’m pretty sure your heart had that problem because of when your only sibling died last year but if you REALLY think your Life Alert electrocuted you, well, you go ahead and stick with that story.  I love you.  Check’s in the mail.

The Artist Is Present.

I want to go to a circular bar that rotates and has a view while it circulates.

Sheldon Lee Compton asked me some questions for Enclave. They are Chaos Questions. It’s all over HERE.

I am not eating sugar. I am eating vodka and vegetables.  And meats that start with the letter C. JK.

The word, “bush”.

We are in the smallest circle.  I swallow into your black t-shirts and freckles.  How there is a tightening.  A bringing together of US. (capital letters).  Where is the right side up?  I can’t smell you in my sleep.  The backs of black Ubers and the royalty of two feet apart.  Can you see the three feet before my dreams?  You would like it.

I don’t know how to right click save as with a MacBook Air.