Tuesday, October 29, 2013

the gin bathtub sings

there be new news so mama heaves herself forth yo even tho there's mermaids in her gin claw-footed tub & they sing each to each & mama's pants'd be rolled if mama wore pants & mama dares to eat a peach:

1. mama done won this & mama wants to thank Heavy Feather Review & Amber Sparks & ohmygod mama now has to get a tattoo of a balaclavaed baby in a baobab-fingered palm on her neck...

2. mama's gonna see the great southwest writers she met last year - Frankie Met, Lindsey Thomas, Elly Finzer, & so many many more. this weekend! & mama & her boo'll do the not-breaking bad tour & won't think about meth amphetamines as they sleep in the hostel & will miss the bathtub gins &  mama's finger waved curls...

3. it'll be halloween soon...

4. mama could make a joke about weenies but mama likes weenies just like a FB friend posted today about how she loved men. mama loves the mens too. just ask them...

5. & mama's been thinking about gender & things & gendery things but mama won't ruin this newmoon/Saturn/Halloween/paganfisttocandyface/paganfisting/christ'snotfishing celebration to wax lugubriously on the inequalities or how the ages be creeping up like a creepy creeper on the womens while the ages settle in like a catnip catting thing on the mens

6. there will be babies & smashings!

7. that is a balaclava baby. like it says. that is mama's best photoshoppings done from mama's bathtub of singing gins.

yours in sinning gins,

Monday, August 12, 2013

this is for my boo

i will give you all the juice boxes in the world

i will make sure all the straws have pointy ends &
you can plunge right in. i'll brown bag you cookies & roll you
in napkins. we are talking lunches forever. i will CSA
you. i will leave you greens on your doorstep.
there'll be salads on your steps all the way to the sidewalk
to the street to your job and back again. you'll parade
in leaves
& there's a fox
in my hen house. there's eggs to be taken.
there's crayon drawings on my ovaries & you flashlight
but not gaslight. i'll give you all the farm creatures. i'll
give you all the old macdonalds. all the old remixes, the techno
beats and glow sticks. vick's vapo-rub & poppers. the left-overs
of rave culture. & that'll be our second course & that'll be dessert
the music
stream that carries you through that takes you beyond
the crummy
juice boxes with non-sucky straws the stale
cookies the greasy bags & napkins the eggs that've
been stolen the eggs that've gone barren the dribbled
juices the smashed gardens the cars speeding through
all the greens & fruit i want to give you

Wednesday, July 31, 2013

up & over the mason-dixons

yes childrens. mama's finally done it. mama made her getaway in the middle of the night. mama threw all her possessions on the side of the road for all the weirdos. mama drove & drove & when they asked for papers on the border, mama winked from under her fedora & mama fondled her fake sam elliot moustachio

(remember always the power of sam elliot's moustachio:


& then her boobs & then the kentuckyucky sheriff was all confused...

& childrens, it should be all good but it is like that aphorism of how all food turns to shit & so what's the point of noisediving into the nearest salad bowl unless you like licking the rim

peoples in the north be blunt. in the south, peoples would scrutinize mama's grocery cart; they'd cluck at the legumes & purse their lips at the endive & raise their eyebrows at the mr. bubbles & cava & english cucumber but

they'd never say anything

up here, someone just asked mama what's wrong with her

mama feels obliged to answer (maybe it's the debonair air of elliot's moustachio infecting mama)

this is what's wrong with mama:

1. mama could drink a whole caseload of ludes of you & then she'd be all shivery-opium reclining on a velvet divan & the day would hum & glow bright cathode ray television around her

2. if mama were a gif she'd shim sham shimmy in your pancakes

3. mama waits for a goodnight text & there's a moon & there's a chair & a bowl full of mash with a spoon & the mash's not even bourbons

4. it is 3 am & there are stop and go lights all around & a chorus of existentialists who fosse against the strictures of society

5. mama just dropped a reference to the "strictures of society" & mama cannot bear to stop being self-referential in her lists

6. mama wants to hang with the new york school of poets 2 & start a band & make paper dolls out of billy collins sonnets

7. all mama needs is 14 lines, a scissors, & some good pounding


9. this list is not postmodern enough & mama will baldwin chaos into art

10. that would be james bladwin, not alec or any of his brothers cos alec & his brothers would just eat all the salad greens & then fight cos that is what siblings do cos love & hate is no dichotomy

11. dichotomize this, please

12. mama loses peoples cos of the skull-fucks


Wednesday, March 13, 2013


hey all,

the following is a guest post from the awesomes Frankie Metropolis for THE NEXT BIG THING, yo

1) What is the working title of the book?
The Numerous Hauntings of Archey P. Caane

Where did the idea come from for the book?
My co-editor Dustin Holland used to write under a penname. Archey P. Caane. I liked the name and have been really inspired by this kid as of late. So it just fits together yeah?

What genre does your book fall under?
Science Fiction Realism/ Poetry /Transcendental Realism

What actors would you choose to play the part of your characters in a movie rendition?
Jack Nicholson/ Robert De Niro/ Vincent Gallo/ Patricia Arquette/ every punk ass m'fer that ever called themselves "friends" or "family" with a knife in their hand and ill intention in their hearts-directed by Harmony Korine or Ingmar Bergman

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?
3 weeks

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?
Archey P. Caane, and his legacy, goes through several reincarnations until someone finally gets it right.

Who or what inspired you to write this book?
See #2 & #4

What else about your book might pique readers' interest?
It's gonna have pictures in it, maybe. Honestly, if someone wants to buy it cool, if not, I'm no worse for the wear. 

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?
This will be published by Kleft Jaw Press www.kleftjaw.weebly.com 

My tagged writers for next Wednesday (March 20) are: 
Lindsey Thomas

Monday, March 4, 2013

the next big thing: the 200th post!

1. What is the working title of the book?
papa’s bones/march of the daughters. i can’t pick between the two. does mama have to?

2.  Where did the idea come from for the book?
there is a creepy old man who looks like harry dean stanton, jr who hides under my bed sometimes. he whispers fairy tales to me when i can’t fall asleep & tells me everything’s going to be okay… i am lulled to sleep by his whispering & dream of his craggy face.

3. What genre does your book fall under?
horror? dystopia? post-apocalyptica?

4. What actors would you choose to play the part of your characters in a movie rendition?
harry dean def = papa. the protagonist = some ingénue (but mama’d hafta go all misogynist kubrik/hitchcock on her). the love interest = some ingénue (but mama’d hafta go all misandrist kubrik/hitchcok on him, too).

5. How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?
still writing that 1st draft. mama’s 1st book, Homegirl!, took four months. harry dean’s been lounging under my bed for longer than that now. he’s covered in dog hair & kleenexes & condom cums, & he wants out…

6. What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?
bad things happen to good peeps & it is what it is so don’t fuck it up & make it work?

there’s a bad old man who takes young girls & farms them.

7. Who or what inspired you to write this book?
mama’s been inspired by anyone who writes anything cos they love to write & not cos they wants a name or the $$. that, & the thought of all the $$s mama’s gonna make.

8. What else about your book might pique readers' interest?
there will be dirty pictures.
they will look like this:
9. Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?
mama has to quote the poet, stacia fleegal here: “Neither. Support indie publishing" cos a) the sentiments are fucking spot on & b) stacia's the gracious one who tagged the mamas.

10. My tagged writers for next Wednesday (March 13) are: 

Sunday, February 24, 2013

things mama likes: franco's poetry & ...


but mama does like this poems (which is a response to franco's abysmal obama inauguration poem) by the fabulousness that is Barge Press editors:

James Franco's Poetry: A Biopic that's not by W. Zin Maddey

I'm very proud of this
book. A lot of this
book was written sober. Some, at least. God,
if only you knew how much I drink, and
how frequently. One time, like three years
ago, I didn't drink, and it was horrible. I had this
crazy sober nightmare about a sobbing couch. It
was so long ago, I don't
even remember the stark
details. Furniture that cries is what not
drinking makes me think


Another time, I met Jake
Gyllenhall and Anne
Hathaway. I asked them what they would like
to drink and they both ordered
waters. I asked them what they would like
to eat. Jake ordered
Falaffel. Anne ordered
fattoush. I asked them is everything
okay. At which point, Anne broke out
into tears, crying her face off in utter
sadness. She was experiencing a human
I asked her what up. She
just turned to me
and said, This... is what acting is all
I said an ashy lime is
an indication that I need
another beer.


Abraham Lincoln was born
not far from here. In a town
called Indiana. He is known for
crazy wife, and
potentially being gay
or suffering from Marfan's Syndrome. These
are all false accusations. Abraham Lincoln. He
is no Obama. He is pretty cool
phantom. One day, I met
him, because I am famous because my
book is so good.

By: W. Zin Maddey (nah, sike, by James Franco, a compendium of Spider-Man emotions)

mama also likes this (especially these lines: "Get a little closer let it fold/Cut open my sternum and pull/
My little ribs around you")

Monday, January 7, 2013

the tickles is on

20 aught fucking 13, yo!

mama didn't tell you this yet, but last year mama went to albuquerque & met some great peeps

mama's not cheating on you, don't worry

these peeps are doing the great things in denver this weekend. check this link out! you can hear mama read two of her poems there, too. for free! for realsies!

(mama's a little nervous/boozy in the first poem but by the second she's miming fucking walls & boxes, yo

mama loves your walls & your boxes; she loves your floors & chapels &  valleys & fjords & ...)

this will be the year mama stops berrymanning her colleague's porches. promise.

this will be the year mama makes her own highball. once.

this will be the year the chilluns don't run from mama. ninja.

this will be the year mama'll hang with those awesome peeps. again.


this will be the year mama writes the 2nd novel. it is a new novel. it's tentatively growing. it kicks when mama whispers the name, papa's bones/march of the daughters. it's a long name for such a wee thing right now.

this'll be the year a book is a baby.

henry miller sd so: "Perhaps it is because the book has begun to grow inside me. I am carrying it around with me everywhere. I walk through the streets big with child and the cops escort me across the street. Women get up to offer me their seats. Nobody pushes me rudely anymore. I am pregnant. I waddle awkwardly, my big stomach pressed against the weight of the world."

this year may you all have a book or something inside you that pushes against the world.

or at least i hope you get some tickles, yo