LUUUUUUDDDDDDAAAAAAA!!!!

I can't help it. I can't stop. I'm writing stories. They're still steeped in the Magical. I'm working on one about a Lighthouse and a kid who disappears. I'm revising it right now. I'm working on another one about a brother who's obsessed with Ludacrious and buys his cell phone number, then hangs out with him--shenanigans ensue. I'm fiddling with the idea of a kid who sets fires for money, but it seems to be just floating in the not-quite-working category, though I can't get the image of a kid burning down a high school out of my brain. I WON'T GIVE UP! Though, I probably should.

I do, however, need to gear up for some poetry, as Chas has sent me a few selections of his work for our project. It's dope, and I'm excited to tackle it. I got ideas. I'm sure Chas does too.

I also NEED to start organizing This is the Way to Rule. I think this might be my thesis at Columbia. Though, most of the work (i think/hope) will be structure and organization and form. My newest book, Bellingham Vs. Las Cruces, is looking pretty good. There's a couple poems that need tinkering, but the arc of the book is there--Cruces, Bellingham, Thinking about Cruces in the NW. Tinker. Tinker.

I've been submitting the shit out of my poems. Some are single subs, and some are simultaneous. I'm thinking that a few of the poems from Wolves rely too heavily on the narrative (and that's part of the resistance), so I may put them together and chapbook 'em (yes I used chapbook as a verb!! HA!). We'll see. I put all the letters from Wolves together, and submitted it as a story. Speaking of Wolves, I just got a story accepted about a pack of wolves in a city terrorizing a family already terrorized by the father. Black Heart Magazine. Boom.

Recent Publications (stories) - "Rainfall and a God Who Looks Like Bowie" (Bartleby Snopes); "The Forest in Our Home' (Ghost Ocean - I'll be featured as a printed sneak peek at AWP. So, swing by their table...IAN); "Wolves in the City" (Black Heart Magazine). I also just got a really nice rejection letter from the Collagist (one of my grails).

Here is a list of my grails:

Puerto del Sol

Bellingham Review

Hobart (Print)

Mudlucious

Ninth Letter

Columbia Poetry Review

McSweeney's

Tin House

Collagist

5x5 (Ian!)

Weave

Salt Hill

Flatmancrooked

TLR

I'm waiting for responses from about half of those. Mcsweeney's is almost 300 days. But I don't want to submit somewhere else and have them say yes...even though they're not gonna pick my story, even though it's the best story I've ever written (And it makes my Dad mad, 'cause it's about him as a kid, and he's pissed that his "friends" and "him" sound like my friends and me).

Maybe I'll submit to Tin House. That's fine journal. We'll see if I can bring myself to do it.

I'm amazed at how many people don't seem to know how to submit. Ian and I have been talking about this a bit here and there. I think when I land myself a cushy job at some college I'll teach a course about submitting to journals, publishers, agents, and programs (among other things). Assignments would be researching, submitting, and logging.

*

Teaching. It was rough draft day. 7 kids showed up. Hmfpt. I gave them extra credit. The kids that show up are really, really great. Smart too. Even the kid who's trouble. He's a great student and a smart kid.

I don't want to talk about other school things. I get frustrated with where I'm at.

*

I know I talk about Counting Crows a lot, but I just listened to some shit of their today and thought, "Fuck this guy is sincere." He's not being ironic or melodramatic (most the time). He's telling the audience how he feels privately and in public. I see so much insincerity or irony or tongue-jammed-into-cheek or fucking cool-points. I just want honesty and vulnerability, not contrived by the need to produce images or emotions. I just want something that doesn't feel like it's being over-produced. Does that make sense?

I can't stand reading shit like that, or hearing, or watching. It bugs me. OK. End little Rant.

But seriously, the Counting Crows.

*

Albums I've been bumping

Gaslight Anthem - 59 sound

The Hold Steady - Heaven is Whenever

Broken Social Scene - You Forgot in People

The Weakerthans - Reconstruction Site

Arcade Fire - The Suburbs

Boat - Setting the Paces

The Cure - Disintegration

David Bazan - Curse Your Branches

Lemuria - Get Better

Race Track - Go Ahead and Stay

Vampire Weekend - Contra

The Velvet Teen - Elysium

*

I've been slacking on my reading. Em's reading Never Let Me Go. I'm gonna snag than when she's done.

*

I hope this suffices, loyal readers.

*

I'm envious of tumblr. It's so neat looking. Mmmm.

*

Bye.

J.

.

A picture

This is a picture of the original COAT EXCHANGE. While this picture has a lot of folks (members of los ovidados, polar state, and our neighbors from the clisetta household), it doesn't have everyone--bill, my brothers, and many more. But I feel like this picture shows a part of my history that only these people (and a few others) know. We all started something in that place. Chad and I moved up and started the Braille Tapes. Many of those boys in there started jamming together, and would eventually move from So. Cal to B'ham to pursue music. And most of those girls would move on to other things. But we were a weird unit, and we all smoked like motherfuckers. I think I was at a pack a day then--look how skinny I was!--and drank a lot too. We also film a couple movies in that house--that back door/porch room made quite a few appearances on camera. We were supposed to move out that coming fall, but no one got their shit together--I didn't even want to move--and we ended up staying, bring Dave Woods into the mix, though he was regular fixture at the Coat Exchange. I remember listening to dishes rattle in his room, when the rats wanted to clean up his ketchup. I've written poems and stories and essay with this home being a center piece, or even just a passing image, but this is the Bellingham I remember most. The beginning of that town becoming my home, and many of these people becoming my true friends. I miss that place. I miss being that young and stupid. Though, I wasn't a very good writer then, and I thought our bands, films, books, lives would be huge. Boy, was I wrong. Though, I can't complain: I got a great wife and the cutest baby in the world, oh, and a little doggie.

So Soon?

Yes. Only because it's late and there's a Criminal Minds on that I've seen before, and I've submitted all the stuff that needs to be submitted, and I just finished revising a new story, and Emily is putting Elliot to bed, and Indie is passed out on the couch.

Emily and I are cleaning out our book collection. 25% is the goal. There are so many books I have that I don't need, will never read again, and will never need for a project. It's painful to put books in to the selling-to-half-price-books pile. There are some Vonnegut books, Coupland, Robbins, Lewis, Cunningham, and more. I'm tempted to give away all my Bret Easton Ellis, but I won't give up on his early work just cause his new one sucked so bad.

I'm still picking through Beasley's latest book. It's really good, but his poems demand a slow read, rather than just pushing through. Next up is Noah Eli Gordon and Ben Lerner. I'm looking forward to those.

I'm started to get Columbia College emails and reminders. It's a ways away but it's cool to start getting those. There are some cool possibilities for next year and I hope they work out...I know, I'm being vague. I'll share when I'm ready.

OK. Never seen Road House. Should I? I see commercials for it every day. Swayze is the shit, but Road House? Thoughts?

This is the most random blog ever. I'm just jumping from thought to thought. Example:

Finally finished a good draft of a review I've been working on since Elliot was born. It has sucked and sucked, but I think it might be OK now. Emily's gonna read it. Maybe I'll send to it others.

I'm bummed that I can't go to AWP this year, though next year it will be in Chicago, so hopefully ALL MY FRIENDS will come and hang out there with us. I don't know if we'll have floor space, but by then I'll know some people. I can't wait to fill my house with lit mags, then months later give them away.

I haven't written a poem in a while. It feels good to take a break. I'm letting my projects stew. I took a look at a couple manuscripts the other day and got some great ideas for the next revisions. Good times approach. Stoked to see what Chas does with our project.

I've been writing a lot of Magical Realism/Pseudo-Fantasy/Pseudo-Thriller stuff. It's been fun. I can't stop. I've got a bunch of little ideas. I write till they catch. I've had about five not catch and I've given up, but my latest (about a ghost who haunts this guy 'cause the ghost is stalking his ex, who is the main guy's girlfriend) started out as one page, just dialogue, and turned into a nice little short story. I'm working on one about a bank robbery where the bad guys start singing, the singing is infectious...but that sounds like it could be close to a Switchfoot video. We'll see if it catches. Any ideas? Throw me ideas. I'll try 'em out. God knows, I steal half my shit from Ian Denning anyway.

I'm excited to see Keep it Cinematic. I hope my brother takes my advice on structure. If not, I'll never forgive him...just kidding.

I've been putting off working on the second book of The Story Thief till I have time to really write out the first chapter, but I've got tons of notes and outlines. Maybe this summer. Maybe next summer. Maybe when I sell the first one. We'll see. But let me tell you, it gets fucking whack as shit (in a good way).

OK. Hopefully that whetted your Josh-blog appetite. Expect something soon. Oh, and I'll blog on the other blog before this one again. Probably about how Elliot likes to mumble and groan and speak gibberish when we sit and watch TV or play on the floor. It's adorable. Seriously adorable.

Winter Coats and Scarves,

J.

Sorry Loyal Readers

It's been too long, and too infrequent for a while. But don't worry I'm not going to promise anything. I will continue to try and post when I can. So, Chelsea, sorry I am not keeping this up for you. I will try harder. I promise.

I'm still reeling about how bad Imperial Bedrooms is. I hope Bret Easton Ellis never writes another novel. That said, everything else he's done is brilliant, but I think he's worn out his welcome. I'm just appalled. Yuck.

A while back many of you might remember me saying I couldn't write short stories anymore, and wouldn't try. Well, here I am, with my foot in my mouth. I've been writing a lot, and I'm slowly approaching enough material for a collection of Magical Realism stories. Right now, I have about 15 stories. Some are really really short (1-3 pages), some are medium (6-9 pages), and only a couple are longer. All of these, with the exception of maybe 3 have been scribed recently. I have a story about a boy and God (who looks like Bowie), I have a story about a forest that grows in someone's home, the hands story, about a man who turns into a dog and becomes a better husband, one about a live woman under the ice on a lake found by boys, one about wolves terrorizing a family, one about a dude who kidnaps a sitcom star and keeps her hostage in a curtain of living vines, a heist of sorts, a story thief except, and more. They're weird, but strangely easy to write. I just find myself wanting to steer from the real of a scene and go absurd and even ridiculous. And magazines seem to be interested, I've published mostly MR stories (only one realist story ever). So, here I am, still "into" short stories. I blame two people: Ian Denning and Robin Romm. Her book, The Mother Garden is still fresh in my mind, and I read it in May or June. And Ian has written so many fantastic stories with fantastic ideas that I either want to steal from him (and have) or try to find something just as cool...don't worry Ian you will be a main part of many of my acknowledgement pages.

In early January I met up with former profs from Las Cruces. It was great to see them. They briefly tried to convince me to go back. Truthfully, there are things I miss, especially the people. Though I know it isn't the right place for us. But it's great to know that that year we spent in Cruces gave me some friends that will be long lasting. Plus they visit Chi-town and Seattle every year.

I'm taking a Break from my poetry projects ( and letting Chas go to town on our project). I'm gonna go into trying to organize and revise This is the Way to Rule. Thanks to my friend Barry (who majored in Musical Composition at U of Idaho), I'm organizing the book as a symphony in four movements. I dropped this idea for a while, but after talking to him, I know I can do it and it will be the final book in my trilogy of performances-in-verse. I'm excited. It will no longer be prose poems, though there will be sections of those. I will be experimenting with form and structure of poems, which will be fun, and something I don't usually do.

Reading Beasely's The Corpse Flower. So Good.

Submitting like shit, Talking to Ian about it. I have so much stuff out it's ridiculous. Ian and I have been suggesting journals, talking about them and their editors, and reading them. It's nice to have a partner in crime. Thanks Ian.

So many films to see, so little time. Still haven't seen Potter 7 part 1. Ugh.

Expect another SOON!

Love,

J.

Yeah, it sucked!

It was horrible. Hands down the worst thing he's ever written. Imperial Bedrooms should've never been written. Gratuitous sex scene? Yes. And it's awful. People dying for no reason? Yes. And it's pathetically awful. Abstractions (the kind in bad mystery/thrillers were people won't just tell the other what's going on, either under the rouse that it's TOO DANGEROUS, or there's NOT ENOUGH TIME. But really, the writer realizes that the TWIST isn't cool enough to just be told, and builds a narrative on it, stacking abstractions and avoidances till the final thing is revealed). FLAT and FIZZLED-OUT.

Bret Easton Ellis. You should stop. You broke my writer/reader heart.

I'm reading poetry and about to start reading Boz.

Love,

Joshua

FUCK BRET EASTON ELLIS

I'm reading his latest novel, Imperial Bedrooms, which is the sequel to his 1980s novel (written at the age of 21) Less Than Zero. The later changed the way I wrote. That along with Raymond Carver pushed my early work towards a minimalist style. So, you may be saying, "Josh, maybe you're taste has changed, like how you're not that into Mineral anymore, or other emo-ish bands. But I say, "No, this new novel is a copy of a copy of a copy of Less Than Zero." The characters aren't the same people. They're pathetic versions of the author's perception of them, and HE'S WAY FUCKING OFF. It's like he doesn't even know his own work. Even the way in which these characters act feel contrived. There isn't a loose feeling, that roving cinema verite feeling of his first novel, is absent. BEE wants to do it, but he can't. He can't reach back into those characters, because fame and his ego has prevented him from doing so, because he THINKS he knows these characters and then tells us what happened to them how many years after LTZ. But the best part about ALL of his novels is the the writer doesn't seem to know his characters. They exist within that diegetic space of his books without any contrivance or plan. They only exist and react. But in Imperial Bedrooms, you can tell Ellis wants his novel to DO something. Which makes the book fail. OK. I'll stop. I've got 30 pages left. So, I should shut up and finish the book, but I've been struggling ten pages at a time. I read his Less Than Zero in one day, and this, I don't even want to continue. I don't even care what happens to these pathetic fucks. Who cares they're awful and there's nothing that keeps the reader in. At least with LTZ, you could hang onto the hope that there's decency in some of them, that some of them will leave LA. And people might say, "Yeah, all these things you're saying is what BEE's intentions were." Bullshit. He doesn't know his characters anymore. That's clear as shit.

*

Expect an update in 30 pages.

*

Elliot wore a Charlie Brown outfit today. Check it on facebook. Now he's dress in his T-Rex one-sie. My son is so cute!.

Later,

JJJJJJJJJJJJ