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,
mama
Monday, July 23, 2012
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)...
READERS OF HOMEGIRL!
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 collinsry4@yahoo.com
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,
mama
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)...
READERS OF HOMEGIRL!
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 collinsry4@yahoo.com
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,
mama
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
EXCEPT FOR THIS ONE:
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,
mama
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...
& 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:
& 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:
& Homegirl’s called Homegirl
cos she’s 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.
She’s 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, she’s 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:
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
frog’ll do cos it’s happened before and you can’t 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 don’t hear or see or
smell
or even feel
this creeping stalking thing and then it’s there in your lap and it’s purring
and rubbing and biting
and clawing and catnippy and then it’s 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 it’s scary and crazy and you’re 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,
mama
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.
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.
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