July 2009

¢ Tonight (7/1, 7:30) at Abilene's Bar in Brooklyn, Andrew Zornoza will be launching his new novel, "Where I Stay," from which this excerpt was from.

June 2009

¢ Duncan Barlow is the winner of the Marsupial map give-away. He's the one who sent me a story scribbled on an air sickness bag with an illegible return address that started off like this: "There, in the dark of the water, they swam until their limbs grew tired & they swam some more. The turbid waters crested into b___ white clouds, which came asunder as the sea attempted to right itself. They remembered no other way, nor could those before them. They were born to this the way ___d is born to the body, as if from nothing and continually swimming..."

¢ I went fishing last night off a high bridge using the tip of my pinkie finger painted with black nail polish as bait. I got a bite that pulled the line down into the water. Then it was pulling out towards the horizon, and then angling up into the air—I could only assume that a bird or a duck had eaten the fish that had taken my fingertip bait. Then it came loose and I recovered the chewed on fingertip with black nail polish, still on the hook. I wasn't disappointed—this is what I was after, the idea of it being in the fish's mouth that was in turn inside the bird, the surprise of it all without having to deal with the death and the mess. I threw the pinkie tip back in the water and it drifted into a SCUBA diver. When he started to examine the hooked pinkie I let go of the line—I didn't want it traced back to me. I'm thinking this had a lot to do with Michael Jackson, but I would never say that it if I was calling this literature.

¢ First full paycheck in a while. Bunkering down and banking.

¢ The more time I spend here, the more surprised I am that everything manages to still be here, every morning, in this shape and form, the more astonished I am at the ideas that survive, of the hypocrisy of it all.

¢ On the way to work this morning I wandered into William Wegman shooting a Weimaraner in Washington Square.

¢ The Marsupial map is still up for grabs. I only received one sincere response, sent postal (you didn't specify what it was, but I'm assuming it was a reaction to the map) written on a laminated airline barf bag—thing is, the return address is smeared and not legible because of all this rain, and you didn't include you name, but it's someone in FL 32205. Identify yourself and send me your address and the Marsupial map is yours. Otherwise, I'm open to other reactions.

¢ splICING RE:combinANT, for to build a ribship ∀ ALL animaL Nside: ∃XIT row 13 [1101], se:wing the ZERO paraLLEL RIND ⊥ to the ARCing meridian.

¢ Even though Fearless Vampire Killers is way campy, it makes it even more tragic and sad considering its real world implications. In the end Tate bites Polanski and they "spread their disease to the rest of the world," including me, and the Bad Brains (channeling Manson): "The bourgeoisie had better watch out for me. All throughout this so called nation, we don't want your filthy money, we don't need your innocent bloodshed. We just wanna end your world. Well my minds made up. Yes, it's time for you to pay, better watch out for me. I'm a member of the F.V.K." Now I'm dying to see Sharon Tate's F.V.K. Playboy spread. May their unborn child R.I.P.

¢ Been back 20 days and it's rained every one. The water is rising, 20 more nights to go before I pull up anchor. Last night we Let the Right One In. Now I know how Joan of Arc felt (@petehoekstra).

¢ .

¢ Bored to sleep at work, then trapped in an elevator (did I mention I work on the 7 and 1/2 floor?!), then caught in a downpour (despite forecast of foggy with a 40% chance of carbonara carciofi), consumed black linguini with calamari (at "FRANK NOT Frankie's," which would be a better name for a restaraunt), then smoked cloves wondering what place is best suited for vampires (Guanajuato takes my cake, but then again you have to eat it too). Brought home an Unsaid brick that will lay the foundation for my summer reading.

¢ Unsaid launch reading at KGB tonight. Be there. I'll be there even though we haven't been "home" for dinner since we've been back.

¢ Broke down and bought InDesign CS4. Fumbling around trying to figure out what's what, how to print things upside-down and whatnot.

¢ To celebrate Marsupial's first birthday, here's some clippings, one of which I'm giving away to whoever can come up with the most interesting interpretation.

¢ Sleepless, woke up to the smell of crescent moons wafting up from below. The thunderstorms from two nights ago left the sky cracked open like a confetti-egg. Went running along the new highline, then south along the Hudson til I could see Ellis Island through the fog, hitting every pier along the way.

¢ Got the job, start this morning. I feel like it's my first day of school after a very long summer vacation. Caught David Byrne in Prospect Park last night, sort of, could barely see or hear him there were so many old hipsters picnicking for the sake of something free. He played at least one song from My Life in the Bush of Ghosts, but it was hard to tell. And there were all these dumb interpretative dancers all wearing white like he was. Like most things, you're better off youtubing it. Went to Barbes after, site of the last Sleepingfish launch. Speaking of launch parties, 6 more days til Unsaid.

¢ Called in for a second interview at Scholastic. Guess this means I should go get some shaving cream and nail polish remover. I have a feeling my permanent vacation is coming to an end.

¢ Watched more TV yesterday than I have in all of last year before that, making up for lost time. Watched Federer win at Roland Garros, then a rerun of Nadal beating Federer at last years Wimbledon (which I missed the end of because I was busy getting a tattoo), the Prefontaine Classic, Woods winning the Memorial and even the Lakers vs. Orlando (the first and last NBA game I've seen this season). Free high def is a curse  to reading, hopefully it's all out of my system.

¢ Domestic duties on the homefront, until our credit was denied. Puma sweatjacket (zippered pockets) from Modell's. Combination of Bristol and Copenhagen lines at The Container Store (my favorite store in the world). Painted my fingernails black with nail polish from Ricky's (camouflage for our new Meat Packing/Chelsea home). Wolfed down meatballs at Piccolo Angolo. Now it's down to business, (thinking about my next ink job).

¢ Second morning in the meat packing district. Had an interview yesterday, hopefully I'll get a job without even looking beyond facebook. Followed by dinner in Hell's Kitchen at Hell's Kitchen. This morning I gave an offering of a goat on behalf of clusterflock.

¢ Bivouacked our first night high up in our nooky loft. Felt the leopard, though I had anxiety dreams I was gonna fall from our perch. Woke up to the smell of cinnamon and pastries wafting up from the bakery below us. Off to hunt in the misty rain.

¢ Woke up & ran around the park. Found out I didn't make the NYC marathon lottery. Went & signed the lease on our new apartment on 13th st & 8th ave & Greenwich. Bought some sheets & pillows & towels & a french press. Moved all our stuff, 5th floor walkup. Went & got sushi. Drinking proseco & unpacking. Couldn't pirate any wireless but there's a cord coming out of the wall that I'm uploading this through. Ready for a summer in the village.

¢ Back in the city drinking cheap wine in the rain.

¢ Taking the early train to DC. Don't stop believin'.

May 2009

¢ Jaded reflections on last days in Africa.

¢ Back in the U.S. Back in the U.S. back in the U.S. of A. Landed at 68th & CPW (after terminal 4 JFK & dinner in Harlem). Gonna take a running spin around the park & later going to a wedding or something at Tavern on the Green. Need to find shaving cream (confiscated) and a suit. Hallelujah!

¢ Gloomy and cold on this, my last, day in Nairobi. About to cook my last meal, all that I've left myself, 3 eggs, salsa and brown rice. Then to the airport. See you on the other side.

¢ One night in Nairobi, one night sleeping on a plane to Dubai & then I'm home free. Wherever that may be.

¢ Dark clouds building. Spending my second to last night in Kenya up on Banana Hill where I'm selling our saloon car to Logo & Leadbelly. Speaking of bananas, just sold a photo of bicycles carrying bananas (that Jess took) for $75. On my exit visa I'll put banana goat pimp as my occupation.

¢ I'm not the only one waiting for something to happen. Two songs that use that line, Radiohead—The Bends: "Just lying in the bar with my drip feed on. Talking to my girlfriend, waiting for something to happen," and The Cure—Play for Today: "... waiting for something to happen. It's not a case of telling the truth. Some lines just fit the situation." My baby has the bends in Amsterdam, she just landed. "Where do we go from here? The words are coming out all weird. Where are you now, when I need you. Alone on an aeroplane. Fall asleep against the window pane."

¢ As part of Short Story Month, Dan Wickett said some nice things about wrapping his head around a piece of mine that Action, Yes! published a few years ago. I was reading through a notebook today to decide whether to pack it or trash it, and found almost the same dream that that story is based on. I've had it a few times. The main gist of it are Native Americans with really tall masks circling around the perimeter of a volcano, on the horizon, and it's not clear whether I am after them or they are after me. I saw some similar masks in Dogon country, kind of like the ones in this video that I was watching last night because we didn't get a chance to see such things en vivo (not the first few mohican masks, but the tall antenna ones, like on the cover of Psychic TV Themes 2, which I also saw recently in front of the Inn of the Mountain Gods in New Mexico, realizing they were Apache, though in the story I mistakenly say they were Sioux. So maybe changing Sioux to Apache would also make it easier to understand. And the specific name for the lone Apache, Rank & File, I borrowed from this Slash Records band from the 80s. Not that that has anything to do with the story. Thanks Dan.

¢ Just got paypaled $50 for "the use of two goats." And I took a long hard look in the mirror, after shaving off my Chuck Norris look from travelling for a month, and realized my Prefontaine look has morphed into an Adam Morrison (Gonzaga days) look. I'd take up pot-smoking if it didn't make me so paranoid. New York City, consider yourself warned—4 more days and the Dazed and Confused Goat Pimp is coming to town.

¢ Changed my ticket to come back earlier, so now I have 5 days left in Nairobi. Not nearly as dramatic as our countdown getting here. I can taste the sushi already.

¢ Back in Nairobi, our home away from home, only once removed now, and only for another week. It's nice to be back, for the time being, though my better half isn't here... I saw her plane headed north to Paris, somewhere over Lake Turkana, as I was flying south from Ethiopia, after pulling a surreal all-nighter in the Addis airport where I walked in circles like a zombie and wrote two stories.

¢ Dispatch from Dogon. More or less caught up with Mali. Jess is in flight to Nairobi as we speak. I leave tomorrow, though I have to spend the night in Addis Ababa airport. By the time I get to Nairobi, she will be on her way to Paris, then to Amsterdam. It's a convoluted chase I know, but we're trying to find our way home, the only way we know. Anyone know of a sublet in NYC for June & July?

¢ Dispatchy photos from Djenné.

¢ Back in Bamako, my home away from home away from home, not that I remotely know where home is at this point, but we're getting there, closer to it, in a convoluted way, I think.

¢ Went for an early morning run along the Niger, walked through the Segou market, and then posted some more photos and videos from around Timbuktu.

¢ In Segou, avec wifi, catching up, drawing a line in the sand of the furthest advance. Here's the first dispatch from Timbuktu.

¢ Dogon country, moving too fast to blog about it. Good times.

¢ Timbuk-fukin-tu.

¢ Building up my arsenal of animal heads to stow under my bed. As someone told us last night, "you put up with the smell for such power."

¢ Posting by the pool drinking espresso & working on my pinkie ring tanline, even though it's like 40 degrees out & not even noon. That's 104 to the rest of you.

¢ A day after I had renounced photography, my camera gets swiped from my pocket standing at the busiest intersection in Bamako. It led to an interesting tour of the street tout/thug organization around the marketplace trying to recover it.

¢ Got myself lost in the holy hell of Bamako so I could find myself in the fetish market amidst shriveled baboon heads, dead parrots, shriveled chameleons, mummified warthogs, cat paws, stork beaks, and other hack taxidermic abominations.

¢ Listening to Malian lounge music in the courtyard of my hotel. The clarinet player is drunk and the electric guitar player drinks espresso with his pinky out. A wind gust just blew through the hot night and scattered their sheet music all over the place. Posting the second dispatch from Ethiopia.

¢ My Addis A-belly morphed into a gut-wrenching Bamako belly after a five hour flight squashed next to a woman so fat they couldn't get her safety belt on and she couldn't put her tray down to eat. Snug now in a hot janky city with lots of goats and open sewers. Need to finish Ethiopia dispatch before I reveal more.

¢ Back in Addis Ababa now, after being off the grid up in the Tigray region of Ethiopia. Here's the first dispatch. Some more pics and ramblings on the rock churches to come. Headed to Mali tomorrow morning.

April 2009

¢ Leaving tomorrow for Ethiopia & then Mali, for most of May & after that I'm not sure where I'll end up, but likely back in NYC. That's the plan anyway. Books I'm bringing: Chronicles by Bob Dylan, Giraffe by J.M. Ledgard, Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichcie, Astonishing the Gods by Ben Okri, The Native Hurricane by Chigozie John Obioma & whatever else I pick up on the way.

¢ Chartered northern reaches of the bush of ghosts (Karurua forest). Now headed to the nursery (River Cafe) to read Boons (Duck Ladies). Need to brush up on my French and start taking Malarone (thinking ahead).

¢ Dylan ends Tarantula by saying "there are only a few things that exist: Boogie Woogie—highpowered frogs—Nashville Blues—harmonicas walking—80 moons & sleeping midgets—there are only three things that continue: Life—Death & the lumberjacks ar coming". This was in the month I was born & the power is still out on account of those damn lumberjacks & highpowered frogs were falling from the sky last night (favorite line from Magnolia: "this happens.")

¢ Any of you freaks here remember Lenny? I've ben reading Bob Dylan's Tarantula & it's evoking a lot of his lyrics in my head & then I read: "words are objects! sight is ego! did any of you freaks ever know a lenny? I can remember his last name ..." & someone else's voice was going through my head, not Dylan. Ring a bell? At first I was thinking REM, then it came to me... compare to Sonic Youth from NYC Ghosts & Flowers: "Hey, did any of you freaks here ever remember lenny? I can't remember his last name. He's turned to dust now, one of the chosen few." I'm pretty sure Dylan is referring to Lenny Bruce, but apparently Lee Ranaldo can't remember where he remembers a Lenny from. I couldn't find a correlation googling, but Pitchfork seems to think Lee Renaldo is impersonating William Burroughs wearing a trenchcoat in an opium den when saying that line! Close, but no cigar (& ouch, a 0.0, just because they're not from Chicago? Talk about petty jealousy.) Ranaldo might have (subconsciously I presume) plagiarized Dylan, but when you hear the lyrics now, it's kinda creepy that he wrote that right before 9/11 blocks away from the WTC.

¢ My two cents on this economic "depression": STOP MAKING SENSE. Burn rawhide incense. Avoid sunscreen. Try passionfruit jam (straight from the rind, no additives needed). 2 + 2 = 5.

¢

¢ "And when he came back to, he was flat on his back on the beach in the freezing sand, and it was raining out of a low sky, and the tide was way out." —DFW, RIP

¢ Signed up for the NYC marathon lottery. Went for a good luck run, deep into the Karura forest (the "Bush of Ghosts" of Nairobi if there is one), poking my head up somewhere around Muthaiga, then looping back to Thigiri ridge. I was feeling good still and got the thumbs up from some Masai cattleherders with some 50 head, so I kept going, linking up with my usual 10K or so loop up Peponi Road towards ISK and back on Ngecha and Red Hill. All in all probably close to half a marathon.

¢ Timbuktu or bust! Just got my tickets. Cheaper to go through Ethiopia, so I'll be going there first with Jess. 9 days and counting.

¢ Crazy lumberjack that knocked the power out seen here reconstructing the monkey tree over our roof. Oh, and one of my natural histories is in the new elimae.

¢ Yesterday, a barefoot lumberjack high in the tree over our tin roof chainsawed a branch that fell and set the power lines arcing and surging and shooting sparks down the street wiping out the internet and everything else in it's wake. No stove to cook on and no place for the blue monkeys to roost. I woke up this morning and the power is back on and the first lyric to pop in my head was "just another dream theory, lost inside your eyes." That, juxtaposed with, "no hay banda."

¢ .-. . -- . -- -... . .-. | .-- .... . -. | -.-- --- ..- | -.-. .- ..- --. .... - | - .... . | -.. --- .-.. .-.. -.-- | ...- .- .-. -.. . -. | ..-. .-. --- -- | -.-- --- ..- .-. | -- --- - .... . .-. | ... | .-. .. ...- . .-. | | - .... .- - | ... | .-- .... . -. | .. - | ... - .- .-. - . -.. | - --- | ... -. --- .-- | ..--.. |

¢ It's sprouting AXX°N N ---------------------------------------------> rabbit ears to better channel the African Head Charge.

¢ Dispatched about Tutuola in Tsavo.

¢ Back from Tsavo in one piece, but now my better half is off for Kisumu. I remain at large.

¢ On safari with the red elephants and the notorious man-eating & mane-less lions of Tsavo. Y'all have fun with those egg-laying rabbits. I leave you with A Case of Autotomy in a Duck Lady, an excerpt from one of the David Ohle novellas forthcoming from Calamari.

¢ Been hearing a lot of buzz lately about Dambisa Moyo, like this interview in Guernica. I haven't read the book yet, but if you ask me she's talking a whole lot of sense.

¢ Ran into a herd of goats this morning, literally and figuratively. I pulled one up from the hull to be stationed in the wheelhouse with me. He's kind of annoying, keeps eating the notes I write to myself. Sorry Coop, this changes the piece I sent you for elimae.

¢ The S.S. ES ARC IRCE is still propped in its scaFFold on shifting ice pack. The monkeys executing a corner kick goal (including post celebration) on our roof are not buying it. Earlier this morning I discovered that Jess (a.k.a. Circe) has Greek Siamese Twin sisters that at some point she was a part of as conjoined triplets before she was surgically extracted. The other two are still conjoined. I'm sure they'll come into play.

¢ Ever-insightful interview with Blake Butler in Eclectica.

¢ Just as the Musk OX scapula predicted, I smelled ozone and frankincense, then lightning struck Father Pole, recombining its molecules to a mast. Around this Father Mast I surveyed the corral. Now my iTunes is scrambling, playing Rain on Tin by Sonic Youth, and indeed it's happening. Rome shook some this morning.

¢

¢ They came ringing early this morning to kill our brooding termites, not by my calling. There was a teeming spire shooting up within a gaping hole that I've had my pornographic eye on since the rains came. I didn't even have time to fetch my camera before they poured the poison down and sealed up the hole. Next time I'll volunteer to dig up the elephant-testicle-sized queen as that makes for a better story.

¢ Synecdoche, NY really vexed me. I used to like Charlie Kaufmann but now think he needs to get his head out of his own ass. Remainder should stand as the last word in this ballooning self-indulgent re-enactment genre, and people need to just stop writing stories or movies about themselves making plays or movies that revolve around their own navels. That includes me.

¢ The truth is I came from PI HOLE. Circe’s carcasses were scattered in a differential ARCircle. The blood spray was neither mine nor the animaLs, but 1 for ∀LL and ALL for 1.

¢ New Lamination Colony is up, guest edited by Michael Kimball.

¢ While I was under, I ran into Goat again. He admitted he felt threatened by Ferret, that he could be driven to extinction. Goat made it so I could smell the inside of my nose. That’s the only way I can explain it. I became conscious and tried to rip off the special AGCUT mask but the dentist stopped me.

March 2009

¢ Relentless din of rain on our tin roof, on an already pinged out pineal. A parade of pamplisets stormed by, headed for the circus maximus museum, until they came to a Y-junction and got their knickers bunched up into an accumulating stack of biblical proportions. 2 down, 38 to go.

¢ I forced my way through the first 50 pages or so of Varieties of Disturbances by Lydia Davis, and the only thing I was disturbed by was by how incredibly awful it was. It's not even funny. And she is hailed as some sort of MacArthur genius and Disturbances was a finalist for the National Book Award? I just don't get it. Give me Diane Williams. Or if I want funny, I'll read Stacey Richter (whose Twin Study I am starting now). When I read writers like Lydia Davis, I realize how disconnected I am from America, especially that stuffy academic scene.

¢ Regardless, whether from blood spilled or from exorcising, one week back and my new running shoes are already red.

¢ R.I.P. Christoper Walken.

¢ Rains have arrived. Stuck some more seeds in the ground after getting back from some heavy drinking with some farm animals and rural creatures. We got into a brawl with a gang of hissing geese and saved a red-nosed rat that fell in a hole.

¢ Off to a B.Y.O.C. slumber party with Leadbelly and Logo up on Banana Hill. The C stands for champagne for S.P.Q.R. Go AZ!

¢ My jet lag has evolved into insomnia. Slept two hours last night, then surfed madness on blackberry in the dark. Only productive decision was to change "Natural Histories" to something with the word pineal in it, like "Pineal Glints." But maybe that's only because I wrote a Natural History yesterday about a lamprey I caught from beneath Pinecone Cascade.

¢ Still whack-a-moling my circadian snooze button all night. Gimp rat returned to his bathroom nook after a long hiatus, we had taken him for dead. The toilet is getting harder and harder to flush, requiring cleverer manual intervention. Internet is slower than ever.

¢ Thoughts on reading Crawford's The Log of the S.S. Mrs. Unguentine, Lipsyte's Venus Drive and Binyavanga's Discovering Home.

¢ This message has been brought to you by circadian desynchronization induced by transmeridian travel.

¢ First meal after not cooking for 3+ weeks: chicken, okra and pepper pilau kichadi, using an organic Swahili pilau spice mix (cumin, cinnamon, black pepper, cardamom, clove and garlic) we got in Zanzibar.

¢ Back on the equator. The rains didn't come while we were gone. Wide awake at 3 a.m. One thing is for sure, Kenya grows good coffee.

¢ Scouting to Brooklyn over the bridge, then headed back "home" to Nairobi tonight so we can think about our next home.

¢ Ramblings on reading Remainder en route to Albuquerque.

¢ Back in the city overlooking Houston & Chrystie with a belly full of raw fish. My brackets are banged up already, but not broken.

¢ Venus Bogardus doing Birds last night in Albuquerque.

¢ I finally woke up at a reasonable time, after I traveled two time zones even further west last night on the subway to compensate, getting off at a station called "Irish Grandfather." And today is St. Patricks. And the part about the Irish grandfather is true.

¢ Tax time.

¢ Went for a run on route 66. Now headed east to Roswell, so if this is the last post consider ourselves abducted.

¢ Clips of Eugene Lim and Eugene Marten reading the other night in Nolita. In snowy Tijeras, NM now entranced by a humming pellet stove akin to the monolith in 2001.

¢ Finished three "Natural Histories" today (on Goat, Bear & eeL). Though I've written others, these are the first three in the sequence I think. I'm also thinking that each one needs to have the word CATGUT somewhere in it. I started one on Lamprey, but I got hung up researching the pineal gland, my new fave organ.

¢ Had a jalapeño & cheddar knish downstairs at Yonah Schimmels (don't knock knishes til you've had one there) then went for a run over to the East river, under three bridges to Battery Park where I blew Lady Liberty a kiss. Tonight we are getting lube jobs with extra virgin olive oil in the meat packing district.

¢ "Where we are in Kenya today is where the Jews were in Nazi Germany shortly before the Holocaust." (source: AllAfrica). I don't know if I'd go that far, but things are not looking pretty.

¢ Afterbuzz in Time Out NY from the reading the other night, including a video Luca made of Blake the next day on the subway.

¢ Down off Houston & 2nd now. I blogged about Fog & Car and our time so far here in NYC. Thursday night Eugene Lim is reading at McNally Jackson. See you there if you are here.

¢ Too busy eating and drinking and seeing a lot of movies and art to blog.

¢ Clips from the reading last night: Butler, Lutz. Going for a last run around the park then shifting south to the Bowery.

¢ Tonight at Word Books in Brooklyn: EVER book launch with Blake Butler, Gary Lutz and Robert Lopez. I don't know about you, but that's where I'll be. In the meantime, I'm going to paint a white wall in the apartment we are staying Hemlock.

¢ Saw Rufus Wainwright last night. Dudes got some pipes, here's a clip. Got some Nike Vomeros. I would like to say I took them for a spin around the park, but I have limits (needs to be at least 25°F), so I went to the Y instead. When I walked in they were playing Village People. Tonight it's the Nets vs. Celtics, courtside.

¢ It's 12°F. Back in Nairobi it's 27°C. Now I remember why I left NYC. Humans were not meant to be above the Tropic of Cancer.

¢ The night sky is glowing and full of snow, I have a belly full of sushi and the internet is fast as lightning. Backing up 17.7 gigs of new data to the Amazon via Jungle Disk. Besides not knowing the difference between coming and going, I'm also confused as to the difference between early and late.

¢ The strangeness of being back in NYC only ever lasts as long as the cab ride from JFK, before it feels "normal."

February 2009

¢ Headed to NYC, via Zurich. See you March 5 at Word Books in Brooklyn.

¢ Stories in the Worst Way (redux) is back from the printers.

¢ Tilled our garden, hoed in some goat poop and sunk some seeds in anticipation of the "long rains." I guest-blogged about it here.

¢ Posted my Lilongwe dispatch. Now I'm officially caught up.

¢ Posted my Zomba dispatch. Consider yourself warned, contains graphic footage of baboon penis and Changwe's Hole.

¢ Posted my thoughts on reading Wittgenstein's Mistress on the shores of Lake Malawi. It could quite possibly be the longest page on the internet, at least manually written by a human.

¢ I added some lines and spectral shite to the site today. Not sure why, maybe because I've been getting over 1 001 uniques a day and figured I better give googlers reciprocating information to gawk at. Not that I have a basis or baseline for comparison or anything. How about if I quote the bridge in Words by Missing Persons as I never knew what she was saying until now, the nowhere now: "Let me get by over your dead body / Hope to see you soon / When will I know? / Doors three feet wide with no locks open / Walking always backwards in faces of strangers / Time could be my friend / But it's less then nowhere now...."

¢ Went for a run, not knowing how far or how fast, as I have no watch and no odometer. Just running to catch up. Posted my next dispatch: the Tazara line from Tanzania into Malawi. Virtual time is bunching up against real time. Doppler-shifted blogging by my boostraps.

¢ While I was away, I had something in Sentence 6, along with a bunch of other fine folks and a feature on the prose poem in Italy. Now if I can only get a hold of a copy of it. Blake Butler managed to send me copies of No Colony 1 and Ever, which I held in my hands for the first time last night. It is something to behold. There were some other things in the care package, like a CD with the soundtrack to Ever, which he talks about on Large Hearted Boy. Otherwise I feel sort of out of it for missing AWP and all. Though I think I like feeling out of it, at least most of the time. Or not all of the time. Maybe some of the time. Did Bob Dylan say that? Or Abraham Lincoln?

¢ Posted dispatch from Tabora to Kigoma leg, my failed attempt to catch a ride on the MV Liemba into the Heart of Darkness. Now my blogging life is 17 days behind my real life.

¢ Back in Nairobi. Though my better half continued on to Kampala without even leaving the airport, so still not "home." I have some blogging to catch up on.

¢ Living large in Lilongwe are we. One more day in "Madonna's village" then back "home," wherever that is.

¢ Up on the misty Zomba plateau in Malawi hanging with a troupe of baboons, reunited with my better half. Sort of connected. Enough to upload the video from Mbola at least.

January 2009

¢ Dispatch from Mbola, Tanzania. From here I part ways with my better half and my computer as I travel solo to Malawi by rail and boat and however else. At best I might be able to post updates from my facebook page.

¢ How To by Aaron Burch posted on zzz ><()*>. This the last one in the N series.

¢ In Tabora, Tanzania. Bought an hour of time and posted my dispatch from Zanzibar.

¢ Back in Dar where I'm uploading the files for the Lutz redux of Stories in the Worst Way to the printer. Here's a sneak peak at the new cover. Headed west to Tabora late tonight/early tomorrow.

¢ In Dar about to catch a ferry to the land that bore Freddy Mercury. Not sure how connected I'll be after this, might be off the radar for a while.

¢ Headed to Dar es Salaam in a few, where I plan to work on my mullet some more, maybe even do some writing.

¢ an excerpt from Melampus: A Myth Retold by Brandon Hobson posted on zzz ><()*> N.

¢ I woke up this morning saying, "here's to a new country." And although for the first time in my life I'm sort of proud to be American, I think I was talking more about going to Tanzania tomorrow, a country I've never been. Until they stop opening government functions with prayer, us "non-believers," won't belong. Worse even for non-christians, I imagine.

¢ Six asemic drawings by Marco Gionevale posted on zzz ><()*> N.

¢ Three observations today that I wondered if were signs or related: 1. I cracked an egg and sulfuric-smelling black liquid gushed out. 2. A family of mongooses came sniffing around my door. 3. I ran by a bus stop full of people that all had patches over their left eyes (and they still had the nerve to stare at me like I was strange).

¢ Sunday morning in the Green City in the Sun and I'm laying out Stories in the Worst Way and watching a rat build a nest in the nook of our bathroom window. I wish I could say I was at The Nursery, but the security guards won't let us walk through the short road that connects us anymore. You can never get from point A to point B in this place.

¢ The rains continue. I deleted another 10 gigs of files to pave the way for new ones. When it cleared up I started working on Stories in the Worst Way. My better half flew back to Kisumu for the weekend.

¢ The "long rains" began with a vengeance today. Even though they aren't supposed to come til March. The frogs are happy about it. This should be my cue to write but instead I'm on a reductionist mission. I've deleted some 20 GB of files from my computer and a few hundred names from my address book whose names didn't ring a bell. And I'm still hitting delete.

¢ double bolted doors by sandy florian posted on zzz ><()*> N.

¢ Put your pumpkin helmet on, this is sooo Africa. As Deron says, it's a pity they didn't include a photo.

¢ Today is Blake Butler's 30th birthday. His boxes of Ever arrived, here's his accounting of waiting for the brown men. It is strange to think of from here. In my quantum physics mind, the book object of Ever doesn't exist, though the mounting evidence tells me otherwise. Discover for yourself.

¢ Finally posted the fourth and final installment of my Siamese study. Now I feel caught up with reality.

¢ Third Siamese installment with Duncan Barlow as my guide.

¢ I refreshed the Calamari  homepage, sort of back to its old ways. I liked how it goes with the forthcoming Ever better. What's fun is to look back on the wayback machine.

¢ Bait by Brian Beise posted on zzz ><()*> N.

¢ Word is Blake Butler's EVER is due back from the printer on January 14th, which happens to be his birthday. So if you haven't already pre-ordered, you can still wish him happy b-day and blow your own candle at the same time.

¢ MDGCentre.org, the site I've been workin on the last few months for gainful employment, is now live. Poke around if you want to see what it is my better half does here. I also updated my resume for the first time in a year and a half. Uggh.

¢ Second Siamese installment with Kawabata as my guide.

¢ I'm starting to drive on the wrong side of the road like it's the back of my hand. Scary. Siam they roll like the Queen too.

¢ Posted a photo-prose piece by Andrew Zornoza on zzz ><()*> N.

¢ First Siamese dispatch, with Pisstown Chaos as my guidebook.

¢ Back from Bangkok, but haven't had time to blog about it. In the interim, I suggest you read this study on sentences by Gary Lutz (if you are remotely interested in writing, or for that matter any art form involving construction or combinatorics). As someone who always failed reading comprehension tests, it is probably the best advice I've ever heard, if not a justification as to why you don't necessarily need to comprehend words and their resulting combinations to "get it." And it's most of the reason I have been too distracted to blog of my Siamese dreams, so consider it your undoing, Gary.

¢ Rang in the New Year on a sleeper train somewhere between here and there, now pampering ourselves at Dream.

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