busy working on the sequel to Homegirl! thought about calling it Run Homegirl Run but this title stuck: Get Home Girl. It's nothing like Gone Girl and nothing like Run Rabbit Run and everything like a Converse shoe box from your teenaged past you find decades full up with the teenage heart you ripped out of your own chest after you realized nothing made sense after you realized the absurdity of existence after you realized you will always be you and stuck with you and who could ever love you after you smashed your bean burrito with bare hands at dinner instead of raging wild smashing suburban windows and heads after you went moshing but were woman breathing in the exuded sweat of pure misogyny all around you after you played the high school version of boys chase girls and no one chased after you...
also, here's an interview with me: https://litfunhouse.com/2017/12/11/an-interview-with-author-ryder-collins/
love you more than all the dandelion fluff in the world,
ryder
Friday, March 2, 2018
Sunday, May 22, 2016
there's a little sporty goth in all of us
So, dear bloggy, mama was just on FB & someone was talking about a book blog tour & I started feeling all nostalgias and missing you...
How've you been?
I'm listening to Siouxsie Sioux because nostalgias, & drinking cava in my trusty jam jar. This story reminds me of you. (& thanks to Corium where they publish good stuffs.)
My new anthem is "Work b*tch" and mama's gonna work that empire to death. that or the teenage girls'll burn him down.
There's a sporty goth in my mirror and a shady goth in my corner.
How've you been?
I'm listening to Siouxsie Sioux because nostalgias, & drinking cava in my trusty jam jar. This story reminds me of you. (& thanks to Corium where they publish good stuffs.)
My new anthem is "Work b*tch" and mama's gonna work that empire to death. that or the teenage girls'll burn him down.
There's a sporty goth in my mirror and a shady goth in my corner.
Sunday, October 4, 2015
crones & manic pixie dream girl hearts
Okay, mama's little chickadees... it's been a long time & mama skipped checking in all summer cos the porch's just too sweet & the whiskey mash too strong & some summer days mama sits in the bathtub gins all day long
mama's been busy. of course. just like you all. just like the scurrying ants of capitalism's busy system. & now summer's gone. the northern winds blew in & started rattling the trees, blew mama's sweater coat from under the eaves, blew mama's bunny heart back into her ribs that cage it there where it beats & thumps & wants out & wants to fuck all the other bunnies all around who are still hopping free unencumbered
but it's fall & time for bunnyhearts to slow down, to take stock, to count their bunnyblessings or some shit, to den and warren, to fluff and buffer against the cold
& winter, my dears, will be a time for writing.
this morning mama woke up in mama's mama's bed & had an idea
this morning mama woke up with a new story.
mama's new story is going to interrogate love and control. what happens when you get old & you still want to fuck but you're a woman and this new story's gonna use fairy tale tropes and motifs and camp those motherfuckers up because it is in/through these old stories that the way's paved/potholed/bulldozed for new stories
mama talks a little about fairy tales in this interview i did this summer with the good bunnyhearted people from Beecher's Magazine
mama was still soaking in the bathtub gin-sins even then
mama's been busy. of course. just like you all. just like the scurrying ants of capitalism's busy system. & now summer's gone. the northern winds blew in & started rattling the trees, blew mama's sweater coat from under the eaves, blew mama's bunny heart back into her ribs that cage it there where it beats & thumps & wants out & wants to fuck all the other bunnies all around who are still hopping free unencumbered
but it's fall & time for bunnyhearts to slow down, to take stock, to count their bunnyblessings or some shit, to den and warren, to fluff and buffer against the cold
& winter, my dears, will be a time for writing.
this morning mama woke up in mama's mama's bed & had an idea
this morning mama woke up with a new story.
mama's new story is going to interrogate love and control. what happens when you get old & you still want to fuck but you're a woman and this new story's gonna use fairy tale tropes and motifs and camp those motherfuckers up because it is in/through these old stories that the way's paved/potholed/bulldozed for new stories
mama talks a little about fairy tales in this interview i did this summer with the good bunnyhearted people from Beecher's Magazine
mama was still soaking in the bathtub gin-sins even then
Sunday, April 12, 2015
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
i have been writing about empire
i have not been having capitalist nightmares where i
work and work and work and work and work and work
and work and work and work and work and work and work
and work and work and work and work and work and write
and my writing is not work
it is my work but it is not work
it is not $$, but it is dirty like $$
& you can run your hands all over it
& snort blow through it, if you really want
why is mama talking about $$?
cos mama needs YOU to donate to Tupelo Press in her name
not for love of empire, not for love of $$, not for love of glory, but for love of art & books
the 30/30 Project
mama has been writing a poem a day!!!!!
work and work and work and work and work and work
and work and work and work and work and work and work
and work and work and work and work and work and write
and my writing is not work
it is my work but it is not work
it is not $$, but it is dirty like $$
& you can run your hands all over it
& snort blow through it, if you really want
why is mama talking about $$?
cos mama needs YOU to donate to Tupelo Press in her name
not for love of empire, not for love of $$, not for love of glory, but for love of art & books
the 30/30 Project
mama has been writing a poem a day!!!!!
Tuesday, March 17, 2015
Dudeyourbookissosexygoodithurtsinthebestway
here
are some phenomenal words about mama's chapbook, i
am hopscotch wout hop, from a phenomenal writer/artist/ and all around
awesomest human being, Elly Finzer:
"I read a lot of poetry and I've never seen/heard a voice like yours. You're magic dipped in inky tar blown through bubble wands and the words, they coat you in a reasonable facsimile of jarring contentment."
Here is a pic of the awesome Elly (soon PRESIDENT OF THE WORLD) with many beautiful Kleft Jaw books in her hands (because literature, because ART CAN CHANGE THE WORLD; that's not some bullshit treacle saying some Victorian embroidered on a pillow once that is the REAL SHIT that shows up distilled in mash and siphoned into moonshine jugs and it is not koolaid and MAMA IS DRINKING IT UP & SO SHOULD YOU):
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