I'm back, bitches!

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

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.

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

poetelgrams

THE POETS ARE COMING TO MILWAUKEE APRIL 25TH.

GET READY, MILTOWN!

Telegram!

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!!!!!

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):

there are parts of me all over

mama wants to thank Kleft Jaw for publishing the 2nd edition of i am hopscotch w/out hop . the cover is beautiful. the inside is full of the words mama would use to woo you.

i also want to thank The Heavy Contortionists for publishing three (3!!) excerpts from mama's graphic novel in progress (the gnip-gnop). there is mac n' cheese, badminton, death metal, and iceland all around us

& thank you to littletell - a spanking new magazine! - for publishing a poem from my rapunzel collection

thank you to Marathon Literary Review for publishing one of mama's many poems to banksy

please support the literary worlds.

the worlds of literature revolving through cosmos as mama sits on the porch & rocks & sweats & moonshines

mama thinks of you in the literatures. in the pages.

mama thinks of how she'd like to read your skin again...

mama thinks, we'll always have rampions

mama thinks, mwah

One more day...

TOMORROW

One more day to sponsor mama for the Woodland Pattern Poetry Marathon! If you pledge $35 or more, I will send you a copy of my latest chapbook, i amhopscotch without hop. not only that, but i'll write you your very poem on the inside of the back cover... because mama loves you

Here is the link.

if you do sponsor mama, even for 5 bones, even for a dollar, even for a shilling, even for one pence, mama will say of you: 

You’re over the rim of the world; you are the rim of the world; you are Chatterly, & you are the gardener & you are the molecules between their kiss

HAPPY 2015

So, yeah

We meet again all neo-noirish in the back of an alley while a chiaroscuro of shadows plays craps on your neckbones

We meet again all alabamian on my front porch with the sunshines & the moonshine jugs

it's been so long that all the moonshine is gone

mama'll hafta offer you cava in jamjars

here are the mama things of 2014:

1. I AM HOPSCOTCH WITHOUT HOP 

this is mama's book of love poetry masquerading as break-up poems. please check it out. support mama. support the small presses! mama'll send you all the sugary love clouds to your next picnics

2. mama is currently at work on a graphic novel. mama has found an artist to collab with! mama is trying not to pee herself with excitement cos these are the fancy sex-making drawers she's got on


3. major upheavals in mama's private life. there is no more boo. mama needs to get her mojo back cos sex on the reg is like white bread and baloney sandwiches for lunch. squishy, predictable, faintly nauseating, and feety-smelling.


4. mama's working on expanding her post-apocalyptic chapbook, The way the sky was now into a book-length collection


FOR 2015:

ALL THE LOVE-SYRUP SOAKED CLOUDS WILL FOLLOW ALL YOU GOOD PEEPS & THE RAIN WILL SMELL LIKE COTTON CANDY & HONEYBEES WILL NUZZLE POEMS IN YOUR HAIR


plus, mama promises either to be a better blogger or to get a webpage (& keep it current)

all the shit mama has learned being published & being an editor

1) this is not definitive; so not really all the shit

2) mama will not be all postmodern & not number or mis-number shit

3)the 1st 2 are life lessons which should be learned by all, writers & non-writers alike

4) you will publish your book. it will be like giving birth or getting really high or the unbelievable sensation of getting really high & giving birth AT THE SAME TIME.

5) there will be peeps that care about your book & there will be peeps that don't. you will be friends with both.

6) your book will probably not make any kind of list. at first, at least.

7) there is always hope.

8) if you are a woman, you will be called a female author. it reminds you of MTV. it reminds you of jock culture, rape culture, football.

9) there is a relationship between #6 and #8, sometimes. hell, a lot of the time.

10) you still love your press & any press that puts out unknown peeps.

11) sometimes presses will publish books by peeps with clout. some kind of clout. or cloud. maybe they pulled that cloud out of the sky that i wanted to give you.

12) mama understands that (#11). when mama was a poetry editor at a university lit mag, mama was proud of getting to publish the "big" (recognizable) names... mama was even more proud to publish the peoples whose poetry did the new things, tho.

13) sometimes the new things are the old things to some people & then sometimes the new things are incomprehensibly new

14) mama thinks when the new things come from women the world has no way to categorize these new things. they are not like BECKETT; they are not like GENET; they are not like JOYCE; they are not.

14+) mama was not gonna try to get all political-y, but notice the race+gender of these experimental masters

14++) someone will say well, there are others...

14+++) & there are, like Kathy Acker, like Gerald Vizenor, like Octavia Butler, like ? (who is being taught now as experimental); this is not meant to be an indictment of race+gender in terms of experimental writing. this is just to show that mama, by some lucky whim, encountered some not totally white+male experimentalism

14++++) there is MAGICAL REALISM but it is magical & it is magic; don't touch it

14 something) yeah, magical realism has found a nice niche in academia so touch it all you want, mom & dad. & OULIPO, grope the fuck out of OULIPO, mom & dad. do it. they want you to. as long as you obey their rules.

15) what mama was trying to say is experimental writing by women is often overlooked or devalued or ignored

16) what else she was trying to say was that she loves all the presses who have taken a chance on her... she also loves all the women out there writing the things that are new & edgy & exciting & uncategorizable & please keep doing it. all you brave women writing.

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,
mama

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

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

8. Meta! META! MEET ME! MEAT ME I AM

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

yours,
mama

GUEST POST: FRANKIE METROPOLIS!

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

2) 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?

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

4) 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

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

6) 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.

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

8) 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. 

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

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

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 1^st draft. mama’s 1^st 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: 

Dena Rash Guzman, Bud Smith, Frankie Metropolis, Tina Hyland, Dan Nowak

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

PSYCHE!

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
about.

***

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
emotion.
I asked her what up. She
just turned to me
and said, This... is what acting is all
about.
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
slaves,
wars,
beards,
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")

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.

KANSAS CITY IN FEBRUARY!

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

luv,
mama

cruising yo

this.

"The whole ‘online literary scene’ is something that I’ve always found wearisome, I’m afraid, and I know that’s a very unpopular view that puts me firmly in the minority. Frankly speaking, for all that people inside the bubble of the ‘lit scene’ talk about how supportive it is, I just see writers endlessly back-slapping and telling each other how great they are, how important they are, how the community is the be all and end all. I fully appreciate that I may well be alone in this viewpoint, but writing is a solitary activity most of the time and I tend to think that’s how it should remain." - Vaughan Simons, editor of > kill author

maybe mama's just a misanthrope. maybe mama just wants to sit under the alabamaz sun with the sweats making their slow way down her halter dress, rivulets slowly meandering down breasts, down thighs, behind knees, as she sips some jug whiskeys. maybe.