New Article Up

My article on eco-friendly sex toys, Green: In Search of the Eco-Friendly Dildo, is up at Blackheart Magazine. Drop in. Say hi. Leave a comment. Wear a bucket on your head. Whatever.

Bits.

First review for LipStik Indie sent. Expect it, and a staff profile, up Monday. My dildo article should be up Friday at Blackheart Magazine.

In other news, last night I whipped up a quick piece about the oft-declared death of the novel for one of them pay-per-click sites. The article took me about twenty minutes to write, so it's no skin off my back if this turns out to be an epic bomb. It's an experiment, like.

I'm also probably starting a sister blog to this, if I have the time and inclination, wherein I catalogue, and review, whatever trashy pulp paperbacks come my way. It would be a labor of love.

Finally, I electrocuted myself the other day. Nothing serious, just a weird twitching sensation. I need a new extension cord.

Found

Book-finding is a pleasure. When something catches your eye for no reason at a used bookstore, or you find a weird volume underneath a park bench, it's easy to feel like whatever you've found was placed there for you. I think we're all closet solipsists like that.

A few months ago I found an old, tattered tome, a musty beast the size of a bible, for less than two bucks outside BMV. Who knows why I noticed it. The cover's the kind of minimalist ugly that people probably liked a century ago. This one has a crude drawing of a hand with a spiderweb of lines charted along the palm. Tell me this title isn't gorgeous: Laws of Scientific Hand Reading. Published in Burma, India, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, 1962. Sometimes I pick it up and read a few pages. I find it difficult to describe the writing itself, a blend of science and superstition with echoes of some personal narrative in it. The kind of book, in other words, that's made to inspire stories. I hold it dear.

The other day a book of similar portent turned up, an old shorthand workbook, hard cover, for women in the 50s. Someone pasted a little pink sheet with their name on the inside cover. All of the exercises in it had been completed by such an expert hand that I first mistook the cursive for some kind of kooky font.

Someone else saw the book and wanted it.

Breaks your heart when they're prettier than you and beat you to the punch.

Lipstik Indie

Looks like I'll be doing regular book reviews for Lipstik Indie. From the front page: LipStik Indie Reviews is all about Indie Artists. If you are a singer, band, spoken word artist, comic book creator, writer (from zines to novels), have an ezine or online DIY store, you should be reviewed by us. We’ve all been in your shoes and know it is important for the world to know about you.

Birthday

I usually get one or two really fantastic cards for my birthday. The one that's held a special place in my heart to this point has a black and white picture of two kids sitting on a dock in their bathing suits, staring out onto a lake. The caption reads, "It's your birthday. Sit back. Relax. Wear a bucket on your head. Whatever."

For me, the card has this really palatable quasi-taoist philosophy behind it, like, chill out buddy, accept your idiosyncrasies (of which I have many). Wear that bucket on your head and don't let anyone make you feel bad about it.

This year the bucket-head card has competition. The card is white, unadorned. No images on the outside, just the following statement, in plain bold helvetica:

A disturbing birthday greeting card that shows a black and white photographic image of a semi-nude elderly lady. She is standing in a non-provocative pose, revealing her breasts.

Inside the card is nothing (except for the card giver's message, which is itself quite glorious and signed 'the Squid').

Interview

Xenith Interviews Andrew

An interview with me is up at the nifty webzine Xenith. I'm kind of flattered and totally happy with how the whole thing went down. Sometime in the future I'll probably post the whole damn thing on here, but not for awhile.

Fisticuffs

Waaaah. I should be finishing this article for tomorrow's deadline. Instead I'm rubbing my cat's belly, listening to instrumental jazz and playing Street Fighter EX plus Alpha (Capcom's sad attempt at Tekken style 3D). The entire scene looks like this:




*note: this is a random internet cat culled from google image. I in no way endorse cat boxing or any other forms of unregulated feline pugilism.