Shooting the breeze with an AK47! Yep, that's what we're doing in the new Sept issue of Beat the Dust. After hanging around the literary underworld on both sides of the pond, ducking 'n' diving, wheeling and a-dealing we've found some serious hardwear that might just blow you away. Anyway, less of this metaphorical tosh, have a see for yourself below.
AS: Which one writer first inspired you to start writing? HJ: I've always wanted to write, was fascinated by language. I remember being four and standing under the kitchen table listening to my Nan and Aunts talking about deeply personal things and having the realization that there were so many ways to use magical words.... I come from a very unliterary family; we had few books, though I was always desperate to read more. My mother would moan that my nose was always in a book.... I learnt to read early and couldn't stop.... I started stealing penguin classics from WH Smiths (I figured they must be the right thing to read) when I was 10 and fell in love with Joyce.... Didn't understand it, but knew it was extraordinary....
AS: Is it true you were kicked out of GCSE English? Did that affect your desire to become a writer? HJ: Yes, the bastards.... Wouldn't let me submit my poetry so I lacked enough course work. The teacher concerned took great pleasure in denying me entry.... Bitter old cow....
AS: Who was your teenage pin-up? HJ: Lou Reed.... Boys in eye liner....
AS: What would be your Death Row meal? HJ: Venison in red currant sauce, a bottle of Amarone.... good cheeses, Italian ice cream.... Sounds good....
Submission Date:
02 Sep 2008
Category:
Novel extract
In Podcast and Chap-book
Title:
wounding
Excerpt:
There is no gratitude in mercy and in medicine Gertrude Stein, Tender Buttons
She is reminded of an early love. Her feet are tucked behind the legs of her chair. She leans forward on to a small round table, just big enough for two, child-like, her elbows eith...
Q: How did the collaboration with Hollowblue come about and what’s it like working together? A: I met Hollowblue through the singer Anthony Reynolds (of Jack fame). We do concert tours where I read two poems and they play two songs. It's a lot of fun.
Q: For those who haven't yet read 'Kissed by a Fat Waitress', what can they expect from your latest collection of poems? A: Readers can expect honesty. And intensity, I suppose. I'm always told that my stuff is intense. They're recent collected poems, so, in terms of where I'm at, they're pretty current.
[Ed’s note: Dan’s opening poem in ‘Kissed by a Fat Waitress’ (which you can buy here) mom at eighty-nine, featured in the first issue of Beat the Dust in October 2007.]
Q: Obama versus McCain - which way do you feel the American people will vote in the Autumn and why? A: Ralph Nader said if the Democrats don't win the election by a landslide then they should change the name of their party. I agree.
Q: What poem, novel, play and song do you wish you'd written? A: ‘Long Day’s Journey Into Night’ by Eugene O'Neill. Damn brilliant play. ‘Last Exit to Brooklyn’ by Hubert Selby Jr is the novel that changed my life. Brilliant. Lucille by Little Richard was an amazing rocket from Mars to me when I was twelve. Richard was sooo out there. So extreme in 1956. He rocked my world. Poetically I like Hank Bukowski as the best contemporary poet. But there's a line from W.B. Yeats that kills me: It goes like this:
...and bending down beside the glowing bars murmur a little sadly how love fled and paced upon the mountains overhead and hid his face amid a crowd of stars
Q: Tell us something about the poem we’re featuring in this issue of Beat the Dust. A: It was written a week ago [beginning of Aug 08] in my grandpa's home town in Italy, Torricella Peligna.
Submission Date:
02 Sep 2008
Category:
Poetry
In Podcast and Chap-book
Title:
august 2008
Excerpt:
Up here in Torricella Peligna a thousand years from Rome where you ca...
DAD: I don't like the title of this novel. What's so fucking obvious about it? BG: They were all eating cream of wheat, get it, cream of wheat.
DAD: Your mother's not dead. Why are you pretending your mother is dead? You know that shit's gonna make her cry. She's always crying. Is that what you're trying to do, make your mother cry? BG: I know she's not, but you remember that one day don't you, the train tracks, the macaroni and cheese? All the ants surrounding our picnic table.
DAD: What did I tell you about picking your goddamn nose and writing stories about it? BG: You told me it was ok to use my brother's hamster as a basketball and shoot him into your old shoeboxes we set up all over the living room floor. We stopped when its little eye popped and bled on the carpet and mom was boiling water for tea.
DAD: I just told you to stop talking about your mother, and her tits, why are you mentioning her tits in this novel? BG: You never said no to me. Not even when she potty trained me. I shit my pants until I was 10.
DAD: At least you had pants. Who bought you your fucking pants? BG: Mom.
Submission Date:
02 Sep 2008
Category:
Novel extract
In Podcast and Chap-book
Title:
a summation of all things obvious (atlantic city blues)
Excerpt:
I was picking my nose and rolling the boogers into little balls and listening to whatever stupid shit was on the radio. I usually roll the window down and stick my hand out and let the wind blow them off the tips of my fingers but it was raining. I tried to flick one on the passenger side floor but ...
Jack Henry, Poet Laureate of Toad Suck, California, population 23, literate population, 2 is interviewed by Arden Moore
AM: What’s your favorite color? JH: Black AM: Isn’t that a shade, not a color? JH: It’s subjective. AM: Are you always so argumentative JH: Yes. AM: Are you really this boring? JH: Yes. AM: When was the last time you had adult relations? JH: Thirteen years.
Submission Date:
02 Sep 2008
Category:
Poetry
In Podcast and Chap-book
Title:
book of henry, 1:2-5
Excerpt:
2
i saw christ carrying the Olympic torch in Ecuador
Heidi James is interviewed by Adelle Stripe (continued)
AS: Do you still practice ballet, even in private? HJ: Not often enough. I'm horribly unsupple and lazy.... I do love it still….
AS: What is the greatest film ever made? HJ: Hmmmm difficult.... Herzog's ‘Stroszek’.... but I love ‘Sante Sangre’ by Jodorowsky.... I'm a sick catholic after all....
AS: What book do you wish you had written? HJ: ‘The Aenid’, ‘Ulysses’, ‘The Hour of The Star’.... more besides.... So many.
AS: Do you ever return to Chatham? HJ: Occasionally, to see family.... I hate it, yet it haunts me.... In running away so vehemently, of course, I run head long back to it.
AS: What book is on your bedside table? HJ: Stuff to review.... Research for PhD and for pleasure, ‘On Ugliness’ by Eco....
AS: Can we buy any of your B-movies on DVD or are they confined to the vaults of VHS? HJ: I don't know! I think one or two are on DVD.... I still get royalties (2 quid here and there) for TV stuff.... such a load of crap it makes me chuckle. I was such a plank!
Submission Date:
02 Sep 2008
Category:
Short story
In Podcast and Chap-book
Title:
the pool
Excerpt:
The children lay in front of the television. The breakfast things were washed up. The sun shone blue outside. Though cold, it was a pleasant day. The children were on the thuggish weave of the rug; the weave so thick it felt like lying on interlocking fist...
Craig: You look well. Been on holiday? God: Yeah, two weeks in Jerusalem. Craig: Why Jerusalem? God: I heard they produce a fine cheese. Craig: Do they even have cows in Jerusalem? God: They must because I brought you some cheeses back. Craig: You brought me back cheeses from Jerusalem? God: Well, I say Jerusalem, really it was Nazareth. Craig: You brought me back the cheeses of Nazareth?!
Submission Date:
02 Sep 2008
Category:
Short story
In Podcast and Chap-book
Title:
a neck that’s not thick
Excerpt:
[Ed’s note: This story is written using the “burnt tongue” writing style, which basically involves playing with the phrasing to make the reader slow down and ponder the true meaning of the story. Think literary speed bump.]
this juggler won the lottery and reached out for counterculture gravitas he told the world he wanted peace with the bombs of the ira imagined no possessions from his temperature controlled furarium called right on revolution from his luxury apartment the whole world gaped and he couldnt stop feeding performance protest sex drugs art he fucked a pig in a wimple in the butchers shop window went from geek to speke via radical cheek fooled the brown rice and super noodles worlds but he didnt fool god or holden caulfield lord no hieronymo he had a good run but the karmas virtually instant
LM: Yes or No? LM: No. LM: Oh. No? LM: Yes. LM: Oh! Yes? LM: NO! NO, NO, NO! LM: Oh. No. LM: Yes. LM: Oh.
Submission Date:
02 Sep 2008
Category:
Short story
In Podcast and Chap-book
Title:
blood on the tracks
Excerpt:
The wind was hot, but it wasn’t the wind's fault. The boy coughed and this irritated me for a reason I couldn’t understand. Even still, I had to stop myself from clipping him one, blocking out the imagined satisfaction of the back of my hand connecting with his lip, with memories of his first birthd...
Contact me