I watched a film called The Woman last night. While the acting was kind of weak and the story had its flaws, it definitely freaked me the fuck out.
Sure, there were two gore scenes (TWO!) that made me wonder if I was going to vomit. A rarity for a gore-hound like myself. But really, it was the central idea of the movie. Some horrible, sadistic, wife-beating, daughter-raping LAWYER finds a feral woman in the woods and TRAINS her to be civilized by chaining her up in his woodshed, firing a gun off next to her head, starving and raping her. He beats his wife when she protests, sets rabid dogs on the teacher of his incestuously impregnated daughter when she comes to their home, and goes on a rant about how women are no fucking good at all.
All the while his son is watching. Learning not only to NOT value women as people, but to loathe them in that extra special serial killer kind of way, as is demonstrated when he thinks no one is home, goes into the wood shed and tears off the feral woman’s nipple with a pair of pliers. Which, of course, is condoned by his shit-bag father. Yes, it was a horror film. It wasn’t the gore that was horrifying, it was this sick, sadistic man teaching his son his “values” and seeing him take to it like a fish in water.
And then today I come upon this article on Jezebel and I can’t help but wonder how much of this real life horror story is learned behavior?
If you asked the fly, whose life I saved yesterday, about the spider whose legs I broke and crushed before drowning this morning, he wouldn’t believe you.
You would tell him how I stepped into the shower and felt eight little legs break under my weight. How I lifted my foot and saw its crippled, semi crushed body stuck to the bottom of the bathtub. How I flinched a little when I washed him down the drain and then went about my regular morning routine.
He would be appalled. Just yesterday I left an inch of melted whipped cream and milkshake slurry in the bottom of a plastic cup on the counter while I went to the restroom. When I came back there was a large black fly struggling in the sticky puddle at the bottom. The same fly that buzzed around my head, while I was reading or typing, for what felt like the last several weeks. Weighed down by sugar and cream, he fell on his back and was not able to roll over. I watched him flail about on his back for a minute and thought of poking at him with my straw. But I felt bad for him. I positioned the straw so that he could grab a hold of it with his six little feet. At first he drew back towards the opposite side of the cup. He must have thought I was going to crush him. I put the straw next to him and turned the cup on its side. He wrapped his feet around the plastic and shambled up the straw. He paused at the top, unsure of leaving the cup and its bounty behind. I tore off a small piece of a paper towel, set it next to him and looked away. When I looked back he was frantically rubbing his appendages together and over his face, cleaning himself like a hamster. He was using the smallest corner of the paper towel.
A man walked through the door so I picked up the cup and tapped the straw on the towel to shake him loose. He was not pleased, but I couldn’t very well have trash on the counter when customers come in. The fly hopped about on the glass while I greeted the customer and tried to slide the paper towel under it. It eventually got pissed off at me and buzzed a few feet away.
I finished my conversation with the customer and checked the counter for the fly. In front of a plastic tub of edible body paint and bullet vibrators was the tattered half of a wing and sticky little speckles trailing off the counters’ edge.
Issue seven features the novella "Noah's Arkopolis" by David W Barbee short fiction by David Agranoff, Molly Tanzer, Andrew Wayne Adams, Shane McKenzie and Dustin Reade, comics by Andrew Goldfarb and SCAR, articles by Constance Ann Fitzgerald, Carlton Mellick III, Kirsten Alene Pierce, Garrett Cook and Bradley Sands, a spotlight on author Jordan Krall, reviews, and more!
BizarroCon is an annual event held just outside Portland Oregon. Bizarros travel from all over the place to do workshops, attend readings and performances, meet, drink Rose O’Keefe’s amazing beer, talk shop and connect. This year we not only had people from all over the country, but from Spain, Australia and England. We’re going international, bitch!
It’s a beautiful experience.
2012 was my third year in attendance and the sense of community never ceases to amaze and overwhelm me. The deep gratitude for everyone being a part of it resonates through the internet as soon as we all return home.
My first year: I was nervous and excited.
Completely blown away by a talented and beautiful community of artists, my heart swelled, exploded, reassembled and wanted nothing more than to be a part of it.
My second year: Terrified in the best possible way.
Published under NBAS for a year “trial”. Excited, proud, honored, determined.
My third year: Beyond grateful.
Signed to Eraserhead Press for a three year contract. Officially part of Eraserhead Press. Heart is again swollen with joy.
That’s right. For all of you who have been wondering how my NBAS trial went: I GOT IT! EHP is signing me to a THREE YEAR CONTRACT!
I am still in shock.
First off, thank you.
Thank you to anyone who bought a copy (or copies) of Trashland A Go-Go, wrote a review, shared a link, told a friend and supported me in this endeavor. My sales were so much better than I could have dreamed. It means so VERY much to me.
Thank you to everyone at EHP for welcoming me.
Thank you to my fellow NBAS 2011- 2012 authors who were the best possible group to work with.Especially Spike Marlowe for her ridiculously thoughtful gift this weekend <3 I couldn’t have asked for a more supportive and loving group to work with. I look forward to working with them for years to come.
Extra warm and fuzzy thank you to Kevin Shamel for all his hard work, being there, and just believing in me in general. His faith in me was a huge motivation to me over the last year.
I committed the last year of my life to Trashland, the NBAS, and Bizarro as a whole and it paid off in the most fan-fucking-tastic way.
In 2006 my brother Kevin lent me copies of Teeth and Tongue Landscapeand Angeldust Apocalypse. I was an instant fan. I never dreamed that I would get to be PART of this. And now I am and I couldn’t possibly be any fucking happier.
When I sat down in the very last row of seats on my flight home from Portland, I stared out the window worrying about the weather because I HATE flying, and suddenly it hit me. I have a contract. They signed me. They want ME. I get to be a part of this.
I’ll spare you the weepy details. Let’s just say I was really glad I was sitting alone at the very back of the plane.
It’s very exciting, but it also means that I have a lot of work to do.
I can’t wait!
The rest of the weekend was a blast as always. I did the High Concept Workshop run by Jeff Burk on Friday morning and my pitch was “purchased” the most with Bizarro Currency- some sweet dinosaur trading cards.
Then it was off to the Writing for a Cult Audience workshop with Carlton Mellick III. I now belong to a publisher that hands out booklets like this:
The advice, in case you were wondering, is totally awesome and shit.
I also belong to a publisher that wants all of it’s authors to succeed. A publisher who believes in publishing authors, not books. What does that mean? It means they care about the author. It means they want to nurture that talent and brand. It means they are exactly where I want to be.
The rest of the weekend we had panel discussions, readings, art, dinners and the ULTIMATE Ultimate Bizarro Showdown! The Showdown is usually hosted by Jeremy Robert Johnson, but this year we were graced with the hosting talents of Famous Author Mykle Hansen. That man is a fucking delight. Every time Mykle opens his mouth I love him a little more.
Now there is nothing left to do but wait for next year and blow up Kevin’s inbox with story pitches.
This is also the Winter of the Desk. Three years in a row I have listened to authors on panel talk about how important it is to have a space to work in. Hell, I bought, read, and adored A Room of One’s Own. I should have gotten it a while ago. But I always had the excuse of “not having space”. Well, not a goddamn thing is being done with the giant box of dvds between my dresser and my overstuffed bookcase. Time to get my head back on straight. It’s been a really rough couple of months with working two jobs, the passing of my mother and working toward this contract. This weekend was exactly what I needed. I feel recharged, and I know I am not the only attendee who feels that way. Because it’s part of what we do there.
I could go on for days about every little thing, and how Wonderland Award Winning Author Laura Lee Bahr is the most fun roommate in the entire fucking world, even if she makes you cry when she wins things she very much deserves and drinks atrocious beverage concoctions. Then this blog would never end, so I’ll leave you with a photo gallery and a whole mess of captions.
Thanks again to everyone who made this event what it is. It’s meant a lot to me over the last few years, and I don’t see that changing any time soon. 360 DAYS ‘TIL BIZARROCON!
click images to enlarge
I was so excited that I couldn’t sleep. When I conceded defeat and sat up my hair looked like this
Jill was kind enough to drive me to the airport. She brought Pork Chop. Because she knows me <3
Obligatory Golden Gate photo
The Elevator of Judgement Returns
Laura Lee Bahr and I stayed in the Chris Isaak suite
A portrait of Chris Isaak in our room
Chris Isaak portrait II
BizarroCon Program
My bio in the BizarroCon program.
Name badge
Earlier in the year the NBAS competed against each other for the most reviews on amazon. The reward was a batch of homemade root beer from our friend and editor Kevin Shamel. This is that root beer. And it was MINE!
Bizarro Currency
My favorite dinosaur card
2nd favorite
Spike and Rose- Bizarro Detectives!
Kirsten Alene educates us about murderous unicorns
Shane McKenzie is coming for you!
all the noodles!
Shane McKenzie’s trophy- Noodle Shoes!
Thank god this card was removed from Shane McKenzie’s performance
Noodle clean up
Refrigerator at the Ad House. There is a dick touching my root beer.
“Andersen Prunty is a super giraffe” – notes i found stuck to Spike Marlowe’s jacket. (I took the photo before telling her about them)
Andrew Goldfarb/ The Slow Poisoner playing in the Ad House
Laura Lee Bahr smells like Keene spirit
This Kevin L Donihe wallpaper was heavily circulated during the con. It is still set as mine.
Alan M Clark preps his canvas
a controlled accident from Alan M Clark
Alan M Clark paints a portrait of Jeff Burk with Jeff’s dreadlocks
I took a break from all the excitement and had some coffee on the porch.
Kevin L Donihe prepares to take us on his art walk
“It’s the rare black leprechaun!”
creepycute
Apparently Bright Eyes played at the Edgefiled back in 2007. I’d have killed to have been there
Ceiling Cat
Some of the artwork at the Edgefield is unsettling.
Brian Keene
We’re really enthused.
Off-brand Vienna sausage eating contest.
It smells as bad as it looks
Gettin’ at it
R.I.P. Scatological Elitist Obsessed with Lightening Bolts
The Jeremy Robert Johnson pinata saw a disturbing amount of action.
Conjoined triplets
Hand puppet
Tiffany Pedro Tirado
Michael Allen Rose and the JRJ Pinata.
Mr T books for children. He pities the foo’ who steals.
Michael Carey’s look is greatly improved after some styling by Kirsten Alene.
stunning print from Alan M Clark. (some jerk won it during the breakfast raffle)
The fate of the JRJ pinata.
Vince Kramer’s penis
Slambook illustration from Kevin Shamel
A Wendy’s employee at the PDX location. It just seems cruel. Not pictured :pantaloons. (I’m not kidding)
I HATE flying. So, of course it had to be stormy for my departure. The turbulence was so bad that I could feel the plane drop a few inches whenever we hit an air pocket of gust of wind. I was convinced we were going to fall out of the sky. So I curled up, closed my eyes, pretended i was in a car on a shitty road and forced myself to take a nap.
When I woke up the sky looked like this and I was still alive.
Several images were poached from C. V. Hunt and Tiffany Pedro Tirado. Thanks ladies!
October 22nd was the 1 year anniversary of the publication of my first novella, Trashland A Go-Go. That’s pretty damn exciting. WHAT a year it’s been!
It’s been full of excitement and, more recently, some sadness. But as my year long trial with the New Bizarro Author Series comes to a close, I can’t help but be excited.
In 18 days I will be reunited with my fellow NBASers at the 5th annual BizarroCon and we will find out what the next year holds for us. THAT is even more exciting! I’m keeping all of my appendages crossed in anticipation.
We entered into this series, all vying for a contract with Eraserhead Press and the process has been incredible. I got to have my first novella published, which seems to have been pretty well received. I got to read multiple reviews of my work and see what other people drew from my words, which was a REALLY interesting experience. I gained many friends and, what I feel, is a second family.
Although the eight NBAS authors are all technically competing for contracts, there was virtually ZERO rivalry. We swapped sources, reviews, interviews and were generally a support system for each other over the course of the year. As corny as it may sound, the connection that formed between us was undeniable. I hope it is this way for all the previous NBAS authors, as well as those to come.
There are only SIX days left to purchase our books to have them count toward our sales goals. Help out some aspiring authors and pick up a few new books today! Click HERE to purchase any/all of the 2011 New Bizarro Author Series releases. I’d love for all of us to succeed.
If the thought of making EIGHT dreams come true isn’t enticing enough for you, all NBAS 2011 releases are available under the 4 for the price of 3 deal! Cha-CHING!
This past weekend I was invited to read at the Hyaena Gallery in sunny Burbank California with Andrew Goldfarb, Cody Goodfellow, Mark Leventhal, Laura Lee Bahr and fellow NBAS-ers Michael Allen Rose and Spike Marlowe.
“Invited” is a term I use loosely. Really, I was invited to the event by Michael Allen Rose and had planned on going just to visit with some of my Bizarro friends, watch them read and perform and have a great time before going back home.
About a week before the event I received an email with the reading schedule. I was listed as opener. SURPRISE! And here I thought I was just going to be in the audience.
WRONG!
I had all these excuses, like: “I can’t afford a hotel” and “I can’t afford a plane ticket” and “I’m too much of a giant pussy to read to a group of people.”
Laura Lee Bahr solved one of them when she opened her home to me (and several other Bizarros) and offered to let me stay there for the weekend. Andrew Goldfarb solved another when he said that, since he lives in the Bay Area but was on tour, if I could get to Los Angeles he could bring me back home. Spike Marlowe said I could catch a ride down with her superhero self. Two of my friends, Jezra and Kristel, gave me money for expenses.
It would have been immensely stupid to refuse. Everything but the antidote to being a giant pussy was handed to me. Not on a silver platter, but rather in two cleverly marked envelopes.
“Food, Tampons, Postcard/ Hooker and Blow”
I had to suck it up. I was slotted to read for 10 minutes. I just had to get through 10 minutes entertaining people and then I would have, as Vince Kramer says, “The most fun EVER!”
My friend Michael Kazepis spent a lot of time helping me sort through the mess and copy edit, as I strung together a series of vignettes that I have been working on about customers who come into the adult/head shop where I work. This seemed like a good idea to me. When I post about them on Facebook they are the most commented and “liked” of my statuses, which leads me to believe that people enjoy hearing about me dealing with perverts. Which kind of makes you guys jerks.
The idea is that I would get to stand up in front of a room full of people and put some weirdos on blast. That ended up making me more comfortable than a “proper” reading.
We read at the Hyaena Gallery in Burbank California and I can’t stress to you enough how incredible their collection is. It’s all lovely horror art and I NEED every single piece in that place. Here are some stolen photos of amazing art:
Check them out if you’re in the area. ABSOLUTELY worth it.
I think Andrew Goldfarb asked me about five times if I was ready to go on. Each time I responded “Ehhhhh…?” and he’d say I could have another 5-10 minutes, until finally I said I would probably never be ready so we should just get on with it.
So, I stood up on a chair in a gallery filled with fanfuckingtastic arts, and people who love the things I love, and a few people who love ME (present or in spirit) and launched into my CREEPS piece.
It seemed to be well received! But you can judge for yourself!
A little shaky, a little nervous, and kind of sweaty. But I did it Goddamnit! I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good to get up there and overcome that fear, no matter how hesitant I was.
Hey, Fear. FUCK YOU!
It felt even better to have people come up afterwards and tell me they liked it. This was only the second time I had done a live reading.
The part where all the anticipation and nerves crashed and I threw up in John Skipp’s house felt less good. Snuggling with his dog Scooby fixed that though. That dog is a LOVE BUG! I’m still obsessing about her.
Everyone was fantastic.
Michael Allen Rose educated us about the dangers of Cranial Party Wolf Infestation..
Spike Marlowe showed us how a placenta ought to be treated.
Mark Leventhal read from The Emerald Burrito of Oz, a fantastic adventure written by him and John Skipp.
Laura Lee Bahr knocked my motherfucking socks off and won my heart for all time with her medley of Beastie Boys songs accompanied by an accordion
I THOUGHT Cody Goodfellow was going to be there, but he sent this guy instead. (Keep an eye on your cigarette lighters when he’s around)
Andrew Goldfarb/ The Slow Poisoner sang us some spooky stories
The entire weekend was magic.
I kept saying that I was going to be bummed to have to go back to “Real Life” until I realized…this IS my life! And how very grateful I am for that. I know amazing talented people who care about me and are willing to help me achieve this dream of mine. Not everyone has a support system like that. I’d be a fool to not gush about it. So: GUSH GUSH GUSH I ADORE YOU PEOPLE! GUSH GUSH
On Saturday evening we packed a picnic and headed over to the Hollywood Forever Cemetery and watched Stanley Kubric’s Lolita projected on the side of a mausoleum. Cinespia apparently puts on this event all summer long. I can’t imagine anywhere else that would allow for use of the cemetery space this way. But, leave it to Los Angeles.
If you’re in the area, or will be at some point this summer, check out their summer film schedule. This weekend they will be showing A Nightmare on Elm Street.
I’m dying. I can’t believe I won’t get to watch that in a cemetery. So, if you can, you should. It’s only $10. Not much more than a regular movie. Plus you can’t beat the ambiance and you can bring booze and whatever food you’d like. (Personally, we went a little nuts. But I’m okay with that. YOGURT STARS 4 EVAH!)
Check out the full photo attack here. Some of these photos were stolen..erm..borrowed and others have nothing to do with the reading itself, but are from the weekend and probably contain a few cameos <3 click images to enlarge
Event Flyer- of course I kept it. I’m a sentimental fuck. <3
“Food, Tampons, Postcard/ Hooker and Blow”
We stopped to eat on our way south. I picked up my cookie and decided that it probably contained a message that said something like “You will spontaneously combust at 8pm”. But I got this instead. <3
Melissa Harris lent me this bracelet for luck. It was custom made for her in Louisiana and each charm is a pulp fiction title. Perfect for the occasion.
Just another reason to love Laura Lee Bahr
LLB’s cat G.G. and I were in love by the end of the weekend.
Your nervous narrator soaking up some SoCal sun on the way to the gallery.
And then I saw this. Lovely.
artworks
art works II- This one looks exactly like Melissa Harris
artworks III
artworks IV
Here I am reading words to all these nice people.
Spike Marlowe shows us how a placenta ought to be treated
Brenda Anders tells her placenta how nice and pink it looked.
Placenta pleasers
Placenta pleasers II
Mark Leventhal reading from The Emerald Burrito of Oz
Michael Allen Rose and his Party Wolf Cranial Infestation Graph
Laura and her tribute to Adam Yauch accompanied by an accordion. Did I mention that I love her?!
Laura’s tribute to the powerful spirit haunting her.
John Skipp was being tortured. His head was in this box and he was forced to listen to Moby. He must have done something awful to Cody to deserve this.
What happens after prolonged exposure to Moby.
The Slow Poisoner singing my favorite of his songs “Flaming Arrow”.
Andrew Goldfarb/ The Slow Poisoner
John Skipp sits in on bongos with the Slow Poisoner
arts and listeners <3
arts and listeners II
Rose after some juggling
Farmer’s Market food truck brunch – egg, homemade sausage, kale and aioli with fresh watermelon juice.
Farmers Market Brunch Bunch- (clockwise from left) Michael Rose, Me!, John Skipp, Laura Lee Bahr and Ezra Werb
The combination of these two things on a shelf made me happier than anything sitting on shelf should make me.
Cool Haus- pick your ice cream, pick your cookie, make that magic happen <3
Cemetery crowd
Laura’s friend Gregg…Gary? Gregg? Whatever, his shirt was rad. <3
Ezra gives a pep talk to some salt water taffy while we picnic in line for cemetery movies.
“What the fuck is a ‘yogurt star’?”
“Awesome” is the answer.
He was correct to guard them in my presence.
cemetery picnic movie line
Laura Lee Lolly
A dramatic reading of the Sugar Pie wine bottle by Michael Allen Rose
Andrew Goldfarb and I saw a truckload of caskets. Pt I
Pt II
PtIII
And to end it all with a bang, just like at the gallery, here is Rose juggling machetes!
While finishing up my morning correspondence (or…you know, fucking off on facebook) I received a message from my friend and NBAS author Justin Grimbol, who I have vowed to refer to as “Grimbolina” because it makes him sound like a fuzzy pixie, that said
“I had a wacky strip club adventure and I thought of your book.When I went to bed I was like, ‘Man, I hope I don’t wake up in a crazy trash world.’
If Grimbolina thought is was wacky, then I REALLY needed to know what happened.
“It was a fun night. I went with my buddies. Each one of us met a stripper that seemed designed for us. I met a metal head that helps set up horror conventions. My hippy friend met a stripper that wanted to be an organic farmer. My other buddy, met a a girl that loved hot pockets. I gave metal head chick a dollar when she was dancing and she started basically molesting me on stage, it was magical. My hippy friend started telling his hippy stripper about Maine and how beautiful it was and then she started to cry. That was strange.
I spent most of the night nerding out about horror movies with metal head girl. The experience was downright wholesome. The next morning we called our girlfriends.
Each had a different reaction. Hippy friend’s girl just thought it was cool. She seemed proud of my buddy. My girlfriend is used to me going to strip clubs. Ben’s girl was like ‘Fuck you! You better buy me so many presents!’
I also met this weird chubby couple that lived in the woods behind the strip club. They were nice. “
It was brought to my attention that Mr. Grimbol has TONS of fantastic strip club stories:
“There was the time i spent $700 in strip clubs in Key West. The fat guy I saw cum in his pants in NY, the time my fiance and I got kicked out of strip club in Oregon; Heather got up on stage and dudes started throwing money at her. She got really sad when we got kicked out. I can’t believe I never told you any of these stories.”
But never fear! He will! And they will be shared with you! Check back here for more adventures with Grimbolina!
If you can’t wait until then, check out his blog Butt Shark University!
When most people think of Barbie they think of something like this:
Pink, girly and filled with fashionable sweetness.
While that is all well and good for little girls (or older girls clinging to nostalgia) doll photographer Mariel Clayton has some more interesting visuals lined up for you.
