Monday, August 27, 2012

poemz up & mama in luv


oh yes.

mama hearts them truly, yo. & mama's in love with the world or at least a lamppost or some alfalfa or gins or something...

Friday, August 24, 2012

mama's manifesto

mama always giggles & hiccups & ends up with cava up her nose.

cava's like champagne but cheaper, kiddies, for those of you who don't know....

here is mama's new manifesto (p.s. subject to change alwaysalways):

this is mama's shortcomings potpie

this is your misgivings cigar, & mama's arms
all meaty again & the dough ain't flakey
no more, yo. there's a rifle somewhere behind
the apron. mama's teeth've gone all bucky
& she spits out retainers like bullets. she spits
out children like Hi-C; she spits & don't swallow; she
spits & she's eighty & rocking a heroin haze, says,
come here, grandchilluns. that's the future you see
when you flick your zippo, after you cut the tip
off. mama's all about tips & heads & phalli;
she knows what they're for & it's no fairy
tale oven push. she takes it all in. she reads
the newspapers sometimes. she still bakes &
there's ash all over & a wolf & a big cheesy grin.


Monday, July 23, 2012

no more virginal audio mama

Anomalous Press was kind enough to print some of mama's poems & Anomalous Press does the audio poem thing so you can listen to mama read some of her poems after drinking the moonshines after sitting on the porch with her shotgun; her calloused feet soaking in a moonshine bath. you can't hear mama call for her eldest Dewey Dell to bring mama more moonshines & you can't hear the dogs snarling at the postman.

here is i hope you get ugly and die

here is i am hopscotch with hop

here is it is after all only a folding

& one of these titles is true true true...

yours all warm & tingly,

Sunday, July 22, 2012

mama's book trailer sucks

mama needs yr help!

this is mama's book trailer:

it is too quirky. it is not dark enough. it doesn't capture the essence of Homegirl! the only good things are cousin allen's cameo (yes!) & his cinematography...

here is a good book trailer (for an awesome book you all should read soonsoon):

here is another good book trailer:

mama doesn't know if she's allowed to do this... mama doesn't know if this is a cop-out, but mama was thinking that maybe she could crowdsource her book trailer (& look at mama using the fancy techno-geek lingo, yo, all from her porch under the alabama sun; mama wipes that sun glare off her laptop with moonshines, yo)...


if you feel like it, send mama your interpretations
send scenes, send a whole fucking trailer if you want...
mama'll watch them all/mama might them mash up
you will have mama's undying luvs
you will win 1 milli-second of fame as mama'll list your name in the credits

send your Homegirl! video clips to
be sure to include your postal address (real one cos a certain combat-boot wearing poet's sent mama a fake address 2 xs now) so mama can send you good stuffs

if mama uses your clip, mama'll send you a signed copy of her book & a personalized gift (maybe one of mama's boot flasks, maybe the stencil for her tattoo, maybe her heart in a box, who knows what mama'll do...)

big loves,

Thursday, July 12, 2012

mama's dating tips #1

mama's thinking about going on the okcupids... would it be weird if mama's handle was bigbertha? & if you don't know that's a reference from Rhys' Wide Sargasso Sea get off your computer & go read some real books, son!

(mama is all about the self-deprecations but not the self-defecations, yo.)

mama has been thinking about this dating thing recently. i've been re-examinings the interactions between the peeps who wants to get it on, especially vis a vis mama & the peeps she's done. i've been wondering why it's so hard to find someone you want to fuck three xs a day for a longlong time?

if you have the same question, perhaps mama's tips can help you... perhaps you should read mama's tips & then do the exact opposite of all of them


1. if you are thinking about doing the kissykiss liplocked tonguey wormcave biteybite thing with someone be sure to ask him or her or them if they have ever touched, fondled, petted, kissed, tongued, or eaten an ARMADILLO. this is not a euphemism to find out if they are a virgin (who the fuck cares about that besides whiteboys who don't like vaginas cos they are actually repressing homoerotic desires). the armadillo is never an euphemism, yo. 20% of armadillos in the US carry leprosy. you, as a human being who thinks you are so fucking great cos you can walk upright & know the ironic difference between Pabst & Hamm's, can contract motherfucking leprosy from touching or eating an armadillo. you can then spread your leprosy through your saliva.

that's right kiddies, through the salivas. that wet shit that gets exchanged through the face to face thing unless you are sweet unicornrepressedhipster butterfly kissing.

#1 question to ask now after lastcall, for reals...

yours in luv,

hold yer hands in hallelujah/ mama's gonna give it to ya...

Monday, July 9, 2012

mama's rules for fucking writers

cos even mama's got some rules...

& if you want to do the dirty with a writer here are some things you should know:

1. if you are a writer, never sleep with another writer who hasn't read your work

2. if you are a writer, do not sleep with someone whose work you don't admire. if you have to work hard to admire something about their writings, you should probably not do the sexings

3. if you are a woman writer, you may imagine your thing to be like Donald Hall/Jane Kenyon; it will probably be more like Hemingway + Gellhorn & guess which one of you's Papa (see #1)

4. do not bother waxing, the writer won't notice

5. if you don't bother waxing, the writer will notice

6. the writer may fixate on some peculiar part of your anatomy & wax poetic about it. a knob of your spine, the buckle of your knee, the saddle of your bag... the writer has practiced this soliloquy many times. don't buy it.

7. if both of you are writers, there will be miscommunication upon miscommunication cos words are slippery slippery things & both of you know how to twist words like soft baby eels until they go squish

8. the miscommunications will be fun at first for peeps who play with language. if you are a realist, not so much...

9. the writer will write about it in one way or another at some point in his/her life. this is what writers do. we are a dirty dirty bunch who steal & lie & pretend to feel. all the while we're just storing experience in our fucked-up heads to replay & revise at some remove.

10. we are also always critiquing & analyzing. it's how we roll... for example, right now, mama's critiquing her own list: #4 and 5's a-ight but the rest delves in stereotypes & generalizations & mama might be called to the rug for that (and what does it mean to be called to the rug & is there a kink that calls peeps to the rug & could mama call peeps to the rug & maybe mama should start a dominatrix-to-go van here in the south. it could be undercover but not quite; called something like 3 French Maids but there will be no hotties in French maid outfits getting off that van only mama wrapped in leather - your choice of black or blacker - & cracking a whip...)

11. there will be tangents upon tangents upon whorls upon whirls upon licks upon thrusts upon kisses upon tangents upon humps...

Saturday, July 7, 2012

mama'll bring you the moonshines

since you haven't come to mama, mama'll come to you

& mama knows that's a cliche & mama knows it bothers some established writers (whatever that means) when one acknowledges you are using a cliche (& also SWITCHING POV!), but sometimes a cliche is all you gots & sometimes you are using the cliche to comment upon it & sometimes the cliche clings to your thigh like a used condom your lover left in your bed after he left without kissing you good-bye...

you woulda turned your head away, anyway

mama won't turn her head away & mama'll bring you the moonshines just like in the pic

but mama'll punch your face if you ever make her feel inhibited

if you make mama ever say sorry in bed you are done for

done for in more than a nasty sweaty whips & chains & hairshirts way

this is an excerpt from Homegirl!

this excerpt explains nothing about mama & her moonshines:

& Homegirls called Homegirl cos shes always and forever looking for that home and always and forever resisting that urge to find home. She thinks love can be a home. She runs from the love that can be a home straight to the guys who want to knock that home on its ass, that want to raze every wall and kick in every door and break every tooth in that home. Guys like Richboy.
Shes a modern day fucking Dorothy from Oz and instead of ruby slippers, bitch has a gun. & instead of the lion, the woodsman, and the scarecrow, shes gots her brains, her looks, and her cunt.

Sunday, June 3, 2012

love is a frog & catting thing: Homegirl! excerpt, yo

mama's eds at Honest are the good eds & they are busybusy with the new goodstuffs. Paul Kavanaugh's Iceberg and Willie Smith's nothing doing & they gots this epic fantasy coming out called The Vorrh by B. Catling.

mama's not trying to be the pretentious by talking about her eds but mama gets a little tickled that this alabama girl's gots eds. it makes her giggle a little as she sweats on her sunbleached porch & gets too hot to even lift the moonshine jug up to her mouth. that's when she calls for one of the chilluns & if they're smart they're already gone playing in the swamp out back...

mama's eds want you to check out their good books. mama wants you to check out their good books. mama wants you. mama wants you to check out her book there, too. Homegirl! is mama's only child she don't make fan her or bring her highballs... Homegirl! is the only child mama don't shush when her stories are on & the only child she don't chase through the house with a switch for eating up all her marshmallow fluffs.

this is TWELVE:

For Richboy, love is a beating thing; love is a frog. Love is a tadpole you scoop out of pond scum and hold wiggling in your palm and you hold it there and watch it squirm and it squirms its small moist life against you and you feel something and you can let that thing grow and it will grow into a frog and it will have those long strong back legs and it will jumpkick its ass out of your hand at its first chance, you know, but you hope against hope the frog will stay there contented in your hand or you can start to feel something  in the small moist thing and you know what comes next, what the frogll do cos its happened before and you cant take this feeling, beating, kicking, wettish thing so you close your hand quickly and squish the little squirmer before it can even get its fucking legs.
For Punkboy, love is a cat that creeps up slowly on soft padded paws and you dont hear or see or smell or even feel this creeping stalking thing and then its there in your lap and its purring and rubbing and biting and clawing and catnippy and then its jumping free and chasing and being chased and catnippy again and there is the wailing and the barbed penis and the being stuck together and its  scary and crazy and youre afraid of the pulling out and you are oh so high.
We know what it is for Homegirl; or what Homegirl thinks it is.

much & big loves,

this is mama's angsty post

this is where mama gets angstier than the whiteboys. this is where mama shows the whiteboys that mama's got the angsts, too

there are bitches & they don't like mama

there are bitches & they are uni-sex & they don't like mama

this post is not about the bitches

this post is about how mama's found the answer to all unhappiness & her secret is so much better than The Secret & she has been all busybusy writing the book that will release all of mama's friends & foes from the existential crises, from samsara, from the earthys

this is bullshit, if you know mama... mama is still all existentialy mama wonders why she brought the chilluns into the world to deal with morality, too but mama's oldest knows how to make a mean manhattan & that just might be enough

at this point in her life

at this point in my life

mama's been listening to james blake which always reminds her of the one she would've settled with & given up the moonshine stills for but not the plans to be a drug-addled meemaw. mama's been listening to the james blake cos mama wants to turn hairshirt into mohair cardigan into cashmere into negligee into nothing...

mama is old but not old enough but too old & her sunglasses are crooked & she's done that paperclip thing with one of the arms & that trick is so 1980s punk rock or hughes movie or maybe it is a safety pin

teenmama used safety pins to slowly scrawl words into her arms. it was like cutting but not as dramatic or painful. it was a tedious pain & a tedious task. it was like life.

it was a lot like life.

oh, & in the long while since mama's been on the bloggy (not like being on the rag at all; all right, sometimes it is..): mama's collaborated on a book of poems called I HOPE YOU GET UGLY & DIE  

this poem is part of the collab

mama's now working on a book of poems written to a famous someonesomeone

she's also working on her hater novel. her main character's not a hater but everyone thinks she is.

it's a lot like life.

Monday, April 9, 2012

it has been so long yo

oh blog, it's me & not you. for reals. mama has been busybusy. i promise to post on you longtime tomorrows... & update all your links & take you to the Olive Gardens for dinner not lunch & after we can walk down to the ice cream shoppe & you can get two scoops, baby.

TWO motherfucking SCOOPS.

with some motherfucking SPRINKLES even.

then when we gets home, mama'll pour you a glass of fine cava & not that cheap Cook's shit & we'll drink out of jelly jars & sit on the concrete slab i calls a patio & laugh at the neighborchildren being chased by our mean dog...

then we'll listen to the lovesongs of frogs.

Friday, February 24, 2012

if you go a awp-ing, yo

there should be a song, yo. awping, yawping.

mama will be at awp in chitown. mama would love to drink the whiskeys with you. mama would love to feel the soft down on your knuckles graze her fingers as our hands clasp in what is known as a handshake. yes, mama shakes hands occasionally.  occasionally mama does those live-living things.

mama will be hanging at the Imaginary Friends Press table (416, yo) and also at the Kestrel table...

if you bring mama bourbons she will dance. if you bring mama books she will jump into your arms. if you bring mama snark she will bounce, yo. if you bring mama words, she will make pinatas & candy will fall into your mouths.


Saturday, February 18, 2012

motherfucking sonnet

yo. check it out.

i can never spell deity

& that has nothing to do with you cos
you are no Rama, no Jesus, no Zeus, or
even Gilgamesh. you snore & i snore; you
drool; i drool. we are imperfect things &
so we both look for perfection elsewhere:
you in your Ford Probe turning doughnuts in
pure whiteness & me opening jewelry box
after jewelry box left on my doorstep.
the woodsman never fails me just
like driving gloves coddle your nicotine
fingers. really, there’s no comparison
there. you are spinning in blizzards & i am
picking deer hearts off velvet lining &
always a mirror waits to say something.

mama doesn't know why the sonnet. she doesn't know how the sonnet. she doesn't breathe the sonnet. she doesn't eat the sonnet. she doesn't even drink the sonnet. 



Sunday, February 5, 2012

like a child or somethings

mama's also working on her new novel, The hater's winter, & it is so different & so minimal & so alien from Homegirl! it's like mama burned through words with Homegirl! & now she's left with carbon & the carbon's been pressed so tighttighttight each word cuts & each word blooddiamonds.

mama's not bragging; mama's trying to account for her feelings.

mama's been left bleeding, yo.

mama loved the writing of Homegirl! mama was in love. mama thought about Homegirl every day. about what Homegirl was doing & how Homegirl was gonna get out of the shit & how Homegirl & Punkboy were gonna make it & then...

then mama finished writing her novel & it was like she'd just lost her closestest friend.

mama was happy to see Homegirl! go out in the world. mama was happysohappy to get her novel published; don't get mama wrong. mama may be angsty at times but she doesn't just write for herself & when she's feeling angsty she's got the moonshines & the porch & the shotgun & the alabamaz skies...

maybe this is how the parents that are so close to their childrens feel when they leave for college. you can't protect them anymore. you can't think about what they are doing at all times cos they may be doing things you don't approve of like sucking up to teachers and being on time for all their classes & studying on the weekends & attending the churches & protesting puppies or they may be doing things you approve of like smoking the gangas in a cemetery or making friends with that hot guy cos they wanna bone him or skipping class cos they wanna experience a rave or even a Party Barn...

or maybe they wanna do things you've never thought of like sucking the nipples of amphibian-men or getting vaginal tatts or dorm-orgying or becoming a baker or a coppersmith or a rattler-handler or...

mama doesn't know if you've ever felt the same way. mama doesn't know if you've ever finished a book or a project or had a kid & then started another or had another & just didn't feel the same way...

sorry, kid, if your mama don't love you the same.

but, that's how the humans roll. there are different kinds of love. maybe the love mama has for this novel is different but maybe it'll be just as strong.

mama's hoping, yo.


mama's working on a top secret

project, yo

& it involves poetry & it is collab & here is a piece (it is not a piece of tail but you could print it out & fuck on it if you wanted to):

is it bad

that i wish on you
an incurable disease that makes
your skin slough off where you have
tattoos. in the shower, on your bed sheets,
on your fixie on the streets of somewhere; your sloughing
skin a streamer behind you a rainbow of sprinkles
like cupcake frosting. you could never get
her name fixed on you then. good-bye punk good bye
love. she’d ask you for
proof & you’d go to the parlor & the needle
would bite your skin again & again & again & then
rainbow streamer sloughedoff streets fixie mother fucker,
yeah you. 

another piece from this super-secret project is finna be published at Unshod Quills, yo. it is called, "Sharks infest these waters & no one believes" & it reminds mama back in the day when she hung out at the home of the beautiful dive bar & they would play Morphine & peeps would sneak down to the basement & do lines of blow off aging strippers & now mama's feeling all warm & nostalgics...

Saturday, January 7, 2012

Mama's gonna get real for a sec

Yo peoples.

mama has been doing the thinkings about the art & the body & shame & identity & sex & pseudonyms & ethics & ...

in the indie liternets small world there has been a huge controversy about Marie Calloway & how she outed a guy with a girlfriend as a cheater & how wrong she was cos she used his real name (at first) & what about his girlfriend, did she even think about her humiliation (& if I were his girlfriend I would a) want to know, b) resist the shaming/humiliation - it's not her fault the dude's a creepy creeper, and c) revel in the public opinion that my now ex-boyfriend is a dick), etc, etc. & yeah, she shouldn't have used his real name & yeah I know I've said, why are people even talking about this but the attitudes that mama perceives surrounding the subject have been eating away at mama... these attitudes reveal, to mama, that a lot of writers in the American "indie" lit scene value very gendered and very safe art. Safe especially when it comes to women.

& you all are like, Oh no mama, why'd you have to go there?

& you all are like, well, except for a couple of you who have the vaginas (but not all of you with the vaginas & mama just actually wanted to say "the vaginas") and/or have overcome society's gendering to think about gender, are all like, that's it, mama, we out.

that's cool, yo. mama'll get back to the deep penetratings & away from the deep thoughts soonsoon... come back tomorrow or the next day.

it seems to me that women can write about sex in the indie lit world if they are self-depreciating, if they feel shame about their bodies and their wants, if, when they desire they also feel bad about themselves, if when they break social norms, they are aware of this and self-flagellate with words & hairshirts. yeah, calloway does this in her story, but she accompanied her "story" with a picture of her face covered in dude's cum... which could be read as self-depreciating but mama sees it as celebratory: look, i just fucked dude and look, i've got proof... plus, it definitely breaks a social norm. sperm's not usually put on display, yo (but maybe it should be, maybe that'd help demystify the whole sex/phallus thing for a lot of peeps).

mama's not here to be a champion of  calloway's story or her blog or her "indiscretion" or whatever, tho. mama's here to investigate the reaction to her and her story and women's sexuality in general in the indie lit world. there have been the blog posts and the circling of the wagons. mama feels a new puritanism & is waiting for a burn witch burn.

part of the reason the reaction to calloway has been so visceral from women writers may be cos she embodies & even reveals their deepest fears: that many of the American indie men writers do not take them seriously & only like their writing cos they are hot, or that they will never win the hearts of the indie lit scene because they are not hot and/or not young. it reveals to them how much the indie lit scene is just a microcosm of America itself (and this realization, to many intelligent talented women, can feel like a betrayal). as a woman, if you are not young & beautiful, you have no value, still, in this enlightened age (unless you are old & still somehow hot but mama doesn't want to tread in milf/cougar waters right now). you could be the wisest, kindest, most talented person ever but if a man does not wanna stick his dick in you, you still have no worth in a patriarchal society. word. (& mama does not mean to be a downer or heteronormative, yo.) this can result in unconscious jealousy or anger in some women, and mama's been there, so who can blame them? mama has felt this jealousy & mama has also experienced this unconscious jealousy that manifests itself as professional condescension; it's the same as other grad students spreading the rumor you're getting good grades cos you're hot & not cos you worked your ass off (& not on a pole or on the prof's desk or anything like that, my little pervs).

other things i have been thinking in conjunction with this controversy is the use of pseudonyms... yes, mama uses a pseudonym and, believe it or not, mama herself is a persona (really, mama, really?). mama uses a pseudonym not to hide or cos she's afraid she'll hurt anyone she knows with her art or cos she's ashamed of writing about the body/sex/the raunch/the blue/the cunt/the cock, but cos when she first started writing, there was another writer with her name already writing & mama didn't want to compete. plus, mama wanted a gender neutral name to get her over those transoms initially. those transoms are high & narrow & hard to get through, yo. mama's family knows her writing & mama's not ashamed that they know. if they cannot deal with the body & the sex of mama's writing, then how have they had the childrens? why do they have the childrens? there are all sorts of love and all sorts of sexuality & all sorts of identity & to narrow love & sex & identity down into one or two categories inhibits people to really know themselves & to really find love & happiness. mama thinks the taboo body needs to be celebrated; that the sacred and the profane are actually the same. mama thinks about the writers with pseudonyms who have the fake names cos they don't want to offend their family or friends: why are you writing then if you are worried that you are going to offend someone with your ideas? why are you writing about sex if you are afraid you are going to offend someone with your writings about sex? what is art if it's safe and doesn't make anyone uncomfortable, or at least think and question?

so, what mama's trying to say is mama hates the censorship, especially when it comes to identity & sexuality (and by sexuality, mama means whatever gets you off as long as it's with your own consent - masturbation, or another adult's or other adults' consents, yo), & especially when it's girl on girl censorship. get over your initial reaction to "Adrien Brody," and think about why you are feeling so pissed off at calloway & not at dude whatever his name is... but, if you're over that already (that was so, like, 2 weeks ago), think about how censoring yourself in the name of propriety is another way of creating safe art. think about how women's sexuality is being represented in the indie lit community. think about how women police each other's behavior/writing and why. think about what art means to you. think about it all & if you have any questions, mama's gonna make an afterschool special & maybe include a money shot, yo.


Monday, January 2, 2012

Goodwill for all & secondhand your new year, yo

so mama's gonna keep to her traditions, yo. mama's gonna follow some kind of convention & tell you all what she learned in this year of our not sucklord (asswipe your own tp, yo) aught-elevens...


2. Some eds are better than others:
For reals. The editors at Honest Publishing Press are, like mama's told manymany folks, the bestest. They are beyond niceynice. Where other presses think it's all the writers job to market market (& mama could tell you a story about a press who almost dropped one of their writers due to marketing concerns, but mama ain't gonna kickstart up no old controversies), these awesomest blokes have been doing the brainstorming & the buzzbuilding for their writers. Big shout out & luvs!

Honest Publishing | Independent Publisher 

Mama's next novel has the bigbig titties; they are all like Tantalus's grapes yo, hanging heavy and low, you can look but you can't touch. Just like dominatema says. Mama also says, pee or I'll beat you...

4. You can't teach an old trucker how to sit on one of those rings or how not to eat the fried foods or how to listen to Nina Simone or how not to try to invite mama back into his cab when all he's got to offer is turkey jerky, Goldshlager, toe suckings, & no cock.

5. Count mama in as one of the peeps who wants real change. 

6. There is sex and there is art. There is art in sex. There is sex in art. Mama likes sex & art. A lot. Sexy artings. Arty sexings. Millions and millions xs a million mama likes.

7. Mama's gonna bring back the term "blue" for things peeps might find offensive. In this interview, Horror Sleaze and Trash asked mama if she thought "worry, fret, and irritation" were purposeless emotions. Mama said no, but mama should've added she thinks shock and outrage about sex between consenting adults or about dirty words is purposeless. 

8. All you all feeling the shocks & outrages over the blue literatures, get over yourselves & get laid, yo.