Anything Special About Short Stories?

Once again I guest posted over at BookFox, this time with a sort of exploration about whether or not short stories are different from novels in any way other than length. If you have any thoughts on the subject, I'd love to hear them.

A Tennessee Adventure

As of a few weeks ago, I have accepted the offer at the University of Tennessee. This means that I will once again be a student. It also means that I will be moving across the country in August, something I've never done before.

My plan is simple: load up my Corolla with whatever will fit in it (mostly clothes and books) and drive. I won't be taking anything else with me. I plan to stop at several National Parks, including Joshua Tree and Great Smoky Mountains. I'll also be able to document the trip with my new digital camera, and I'll post updates from time to time. The trip will split up nicely into two parts, with a weeklong break in New Mexico for the Glen Workshop, hosted by Image.

In my mind, this is a minor equivalent of several road trip adventures, which seem to have surrounded me lately. A few of my former students from APU are riding across the country on bicycles to raise support for Project Rwanda. I also recently watched Into the Wild, a film based on the true story of a recent college graduate who essentially went on a two-year road trip that ended in the Alaskan wilderness. Then there's the slower, more laid back approach: 10 MPH, a documentary about a group of disillusioned techies who travel from Seattle to Boston on a Segway. Their top speed? 10 mph.

Somehow, it seems like I've wanted to do this my entire life.

Take Me to Another Place

Here's a video (anyone remember Arrested Development?)that could be descriptive of my life next fall. I was accepted by the University of Tennessee, but only for another MA (in literature). It is funded, but not exactly with enough money to live comfortably on.




I'm still waiting to hear from four other schools. If I get into Missouri or Nebraska it might be hard to find a theme song. I'll do my best.

Music Video and Literary Journal 2.0

I know, I know. This blog has been dead for a while. I did survive into the new year, and even managed to send off seven PhD applications. I'm hoping one of them comes through. I promise not to turn off the blog again for so long without notifying you, oh faithful reader.

In the meantime, I have become fascinated with interactive internet content—both musical and literary. For an awesome online literature experience, that turns poems and short stories into interactive art projects, check out Born Magazine. Poets and fiction writers are matched up with artists who work with flash animation, so that what emerges is sometimes much more than just the written word. I really can't explain it, but take a look at "What Afterlife" and "Five Kinds of Weather Roll Across Texas," to see some of the rich variety that the magazine offers. I'm excited because this is, I think, what the internet should be doing for literature. Other than making it more accessible (which is huge), the internet hasn't really added much to literature as a form. Born is starting to push the boundaries of literary art and interaction. I have recently been studying methods of literary interpretation, and this seems to me to have all sorts of implications that I won't really get into, except to say that the idea of a piece of literature as fluid might gain credence by more extreme means of user interaction.

The title screen of "What Afterlife" from Born Magazine.

But this interaction is not limited to literary works. Bands have started in with interactive music videos. The Arcade Fire, long a favorite of mine, have released a video for Black Mirror, a song from their latest album, Neon Bible. What's unique about this one, though, is that users can change the actual music of the video by toggling off and on (at will) individual tracks like drums, bass, guitar, lead vocals, backup vocals and etc. This is surprisingly intriguing, because it lets the user create custom videos.

The protagonist of "Black Mirror" stares into a Dante-like abyss. Notice the numbered triangles at the bottom of the screen. Each triangle indicates that the track is on.


Rolling Stone recommends turning off the drums (track 2) for an amazing and unique version of the song, but I think what fits the video best, and its stark and surprising images, is turning off tracks 1-4, which leaves track 5 (backup vocals) and track 6 (background classical score). This transforms the video into an eerie silent film, with occasional moments of clarity. I love the entire aesthetic sensibility of The Arcade Fire, which comes through in their website design and videos.

Mr. TV-head stares at the viewer while my track preference is displayed.

Taking their cue from no one, an up-and-coming band from Brooklyn, MGMT, has created a downloadable interactive video of their song "Electric Feel," from their new, aptly named album Oracular Spectacular. Checking in at over 400mbs, it lets users edit the images that show while the song is playing. The bottom of the video player in Quicktime is a set of multi-colored rectangles and circles, each of which alters any given frame of the video. Some change the background images, others the video footage, while some superimpose other images or textures over the video. It's pretty crazy and hard to describe. You really have to experience it for yourself. I have literally watched it eight times, and keep finding new images. Watch out for the walrus, he scares me every time I accidentally click on the far right circle at about 50 seconds in.

One of the MGMT guys stabbing what appears to be a pig pinata with what appears to be a spear, while what appears to be a military helicopter flies by in the background.

I also recommend watching the video, not interactive, but just as psychedelic, for their song "Time to Pretend." This overwhelming stream of images and colors somehow fits the uninhibited, melodic and electronic style of their music. For my first entry of 2008, I leave you with what appears to be three dancing Andy Warhols superimposed over a stylized portrait of the other MGMT guy. Who says drugs never helped art?

Spring Classes and More Grad. Apps.

In the Spring I will be teaching:

1) At APU: English 111: Intro to Literature. This will be fun, although the class will be too large to have ideal discussions. I may try more mini-lectures.

2) At BU: Two sections of English 110B: Critical Thinking and Writing II. Writing with literature. Also fun, but with more essays.

I decided to take fewer classes so that I could write more and try and publish things on a regular basis. These sorts of things are important. I am buried right now in grading and more PhD applications. This year, I am doing more homework, so I hope it helps.

Review Posted at BookFox

Per request of my former classmate, the always clever BookFox, currently vacationing in South America, I have posted a review of Miranda July's first collection of short stories, No one belongs here more than you over at his website. Somehow, I also managed to reveal embarrassing details about my childhood in the process. The website for the book is interactive and pretty cool, you should check it out. Here is a picture of Miranda July.


Next week I will try and blog from New Mexico, where I will once again be attending the Glen Workshop.

The Physics of Driving II

Unknown Love in Los Angeles

Perhaps we fashion untruths daily,
our memories become remarks at a funeral—
never mentioning the bad particulars
to honor our idealism.

The most beautiful woman that I can remember
I saw slantwise from the window of a speeding car.
In this glimpse, her body stretched into vectors,
curved hips melding into curved freeway,

breath rhythm lengthening into skyline pulse,
laugh crinkles clouding into dancing city lights.
It was over quickly, but for me
these memories are the most spacious.

You see, I never met her.
In a city always moving love is trackless—
without paths leading in or footprint remainders.
Just pray for rest. Pray for more
than the screech marks of smoldered rubber.

If you see me on the freeway, wave.
I will be the man that drives while
rubbing a disposable razor along my chin—
again and again even though
there is no more hair.

Final Teaching Load (Fall '07)

After a few weeks of working on lining up teaching gigs, many phone calls, seven mailed resumes and NINE interviews, here is my fall lineup.

Two classes at BU: 1) ENGL 100 (remedial freshmen writing). 2) ENGL 110B the second required writing class that includes some literature—probably mostly sophomores.

One class at VU: 3) ENGL 120: Persuasive Writing. A freshmen writing course that is followed up by research writing.

One class at APU 4) ENGL 110: Freshmen Writing Seminar. This class is organized around a theme, which I am still playing with. My first choice right now is Modern Myth. Aimee Bender, I can sell some of your books this way!

Cold War Kids to Open for The White Stripes and Muse

I follow the career of Cold War Kids with great interest and enthusiasm. I am very pleased to say that they will be playing at Madison Square Garden with Muse (August 6th), and will be supporting The White Stripes on the second half of their North American tour (September/October). Say hi to Jack and Meg boys.

Frank Miller and Quentin Tarantino View the World through a Smashed Windshield

Yesterday I watched Frank Miller's Sin City, and I have to admit that stylistically, it's one of the most impressive films that I've ever seen. The sparse use of color (mostly on attractive women and blood), the silhouettes, the incredible action sequences, and the lack of light all stress the source material of the film—Miller's graphic novels.

This slick quality is brilliant and often fantastic. In an early sequence, Marv (Mickey Rourke) intentionally crashes through the windshield of a car, each of his legs knocking a cop unconscious, before Marv throws them from the car, while driving off after his next victim. In both Sin City and 300, Miller's latest project, violence has become a captivating and exciting art form. Of course, this elevation of stylistic gore was brought to our attention by Quentin Tarantino in films like Pulp Fiction, Reservoir Dogs and Kill Bill.

It doesn't seem quite fair to call Miller a Tarantino protégé, since his graphic novels are essentially contemporaries of Pulp Fiction, but certainly the other director of Sin City, (Miller is the first), Robert Rodriguez, uses Tarantino as his starting point. Tarantino and Rodriguez recently teamed on the Grindhouse double feature, which was a bit of a box office bust.

Despite the exhilarating action, I find that I can't watch these films more than once. By the end, I am disgusted with the world, the emptiness of any deed—and more than anything—the complete depravity of human nature. Why live? is the question that keeps popping into my head. In Sin City, everyone, "heroes" and villains, males and females—even children—seem to relish torture, including, but certainly not limited to, dismemberment. In Pulp Fiction the hitman and his target fall into a random pawn shop while fighting, only to find out that the owner is far more sadistic than either of them.

It's not the mere presence of extreme and intense violence that bothers me. It's the lack of any purpose behind the violence. Marv in Sin City tortures and kills dozens of people to revenge the death of Goldie, a prostitute whom he just met the night before. He never stops to ask who Goldie is or why she was killed. In Tarantino films, violence and torture are just the ways in which the world operates. In 300 there is a vague sense of the king of Sparta's honor being offended, but beyond that reference, little is made of Persia's invasion of Greece and the repercussions of paying tribute to Xerxes.

Little or nothing seems needed by Miller to justify inflicting the most extreme kinds of agony. The smallest personal problem is grounds for murder. There is no real right and wrong or good and evil—there is only personal preference. Instead of The Matrix, or any WWII movie, from Miller we get no sense that there is any greater story or rationalization other than the immediate violence itself and the immediate journey of this particular character. While I enjoyed 300, I found it hard to be inspired by the film—in the same way that Braveheart or similar fare is inspiring—because of a lack of a clear sense of meaning and purpose behind the (admittedly) awesome and courageous stand.

Part of this justification of violence appears to stem from a problem with authority and organizations. In Sin City the two super villains are a Cardinal of the Catholic church and a Senator, respectively. In 300, the most disturbing characters are the sexually abusive, disfigured priests, and the power-hungry senator of Sparta who tries to prevent re-enforcements from being sent to the small army's aid. If the world and its institutions are so corrupt, why not just fight the system and the man? Why not?

To be fair, Sin City does admit that once in a while a decent cop will come along, and 300 does show more level-headed senators defeating the traitor (too late to save anyone from the original force). However, what is implicit is not just that absolute power corrupts absolutely, but that corruption seems to be the inevitable result of almost any position of authority. If these are the starting assumptions, it is not surprising to see violence and torture surface as the common currency of interaction.

What, then, is the difference between depravity as presented by Miller and Tarantino, and someone like Flannery O'Connor? Certainly, O'Connor (one of my favorite authors) depicts senseless killing in "A Good Man is Hard to Find," and complete deception and betrayal in "Good Country People." I haven't yet put my finger on it, but I think it has to do with O'Connor's multi-leveled approach. The Misfit has good manners, the traveling Bible salesman presents himself as genuine. This irony of a good veneer peeling away to reveal the true, evil nature underneath seems much more true-to-life and spiritually interesting.

While it may be implied that the Cardinal and Senator (brothers named Rourke) in Sin City present themselves differently in public, there is no evidence provided of this—and indeed—everyone seems to know already that they are completely corrupt, whether or not they are responsible for the specific instances of evil that drive the action in the movie. Moreover, O'Connor seems to be focusing on the inexplicableness of intense evil as events out of the ordinary (and hence, worthy of being the subject of a story), while Miller and Tarantino seem to imply that intense evil occurs as a regular pattern. It's the difference between saying: "there is evil and I can't explain it," and saying "evil is all there is." I guess I would agree that senseless evil does happen all the time, but why would I want to return, over and over again, to that fictional world that they have created?

In any case, I may not run out to see Miller's next project. I would like, however, in light of this criticism, to recommend another crass (but brilliant) film, Idiocracy, written by Mike Judge.

Writing Again...

Since turning in my thesis over a month ago, I haven't written much of anything. (The poem below being the one exception.) I thought maybe I was tired of it, but really I think I was just burned out. I realized today that I have an intense desire to write again. As a writer, I want to capture the perfect story. It's kind of an impossible quest that contains many bumper-to-bumper moments, U-turns and flaming crashes off of cliffs. I'm off to the library to read Looking Backward: From 2000 to 1887, by Edward Bellamy for inspiration. After Uncle Tom's Cabin and Ben-Hur, this was one of the most popular books of the late 19th century in America. It's a socialist Utopian novel, which interests me for several reasons, which in the interests of my story, I won't reveal, other than to say that it takes a very different view of socialism than, say, The Brother's Karamazov.

The Physics of Driving 1 (A Poem)

A two-faced habit. I steal
glances at passing drivers on the freeway.
In blurry haste everyone is striking.
With twinges of relativity
everyone on the freeway is someone.

Just last week I saw Einstein,
driving home after a nice dinner at JPL
in rush hour on the 605 freeway—
fingers sifting dunes of electric hair.

Energy equals mass times the speed of light squared.
The world always moves, if however slowly.
Energy equals cars moving within a square.
Energy equals movement coalescing in a square.
The square is a city. The city is Los Angeles.

He has calculated how to weave through traffic
without touching anything.
A half-wide car fits between the lanes
of space and time.

This mask of self-importance
is forever needing a place to go.
Clutching my steering wheel
never changing lanes.

Drive faster.
If you reach the speed of light
everyone will want to know your name.
You just won't recognize yourself anymore.

My New Computer

Is a MacBook with a built in webcam....





Probably, it takes pictures of me when I'm sleeping and posts them on the internet.

Little Debbie, Sallie Mae and Wendy Play the Three Furies

This morning I woke up and ate a Little Debbie's choco-marshmellow dessert snack with my coffee. Since then, I have pretty much decided that it is the most unhealthy food ever. I don't even think it should properly be called food. Little Debbie is the most innocent-looking little girl since the Coppertone girl who perpetually gets her diaper ripped off by a dog. Does anyone remember that ad? What happens when something bites a diaper? No good can come from that. Who in the world thought that up, and why would it ever be considered a good idea?



But back to Little Debbie—she always has a snack for you. She wants you to be fat and die of scurvy (while consuming oatmeal pies).

Then, instead of eating lunch, I spent two hours sitting in an exit-loan workshop at USC, listening to how Sallie Mae owns me for at least ten years. TEN. For many students, it's TWENTY-FIVE. Favorite fun fact: only 7% of students make all of their payments on time over the first three years of a loan. Sallie Mae is worse than Little Debbie, so much so, that I could only find this picture:



Don't let the look take you in. She will garnish your wages and steal your income tax refund in a heartbeat. (Cliché alert.) I'm pretty sure she is the Irish mafia.

For dinner, I only wish I would have eaten at Wendy's. That little red-haired minx is just as devious. I heard they have replaced the buns with deep-fried choco-marshmellow paddies.



Instead, I had Mexican food.

Why MySpace Boosts My Self-Esteem

Yes, I admit it. I have a MySpace account. I'm not really ashamed of it, either. I really love the principle of networking centered around artistic communities like musicians and writers, and sharing your work via the network. It still is taken advantage of—because of the lack of an individual verification system like Facebook has. You can say or be anyone on MySpace, which I suppose is what makes the internet a vicarious and scary place. It's interesting, though, because many people take this to another level, where they are almost mocking the principle of "be anyone." How many profiles have you seen that are "99-year-old female" who makes "$250,000 or over?"

I get a lot of friend requests on MySpace—probably at least two a day. Yes, all of the porn stars and entrepreneurial stock broker and drug company types want to be my friend. I can only conclude from this that I am CEO material encaged in an übersexy body. The best friend request, though, was the following:





I have nothing else to say about that.

Final Project and USC are Done

My final project, though flawed, is complete and approved. So, unless the committee decides to turn it down (very unlikely), I have completed all the requirements of the MPW degree. I'm going to start calling it an MFA, just to avoid confusion. Also, it makes me feel as if I didn't waste money on the degree.

In other news, I will not be attending a PhD program in the Fall. All three turned me down, although the rumor is that I was "close" at USC. They accepted 2 out of 80 applications; so I'm not surprised. I would have loved to stay at 'SC and work with the incredible PhD faculty in the English department, but it looks like I'll have the first year completely off from school since kindergarten.

My responsibilities as a TA are wrapping up and I'm looking forward to the summer and trying to get a story or two published.

Neon Bible

Montreal's finest rock band, The Arcade Fire, has only boosted its reputation as indie hero with the release of their second full-length album. Neon Bible features two songs with partial French lyrics, weightier religious themes, and an expansion of musical sources. "Intervention" pulses with the verve of a pipe organ, while "My Body is a Cage," is backed by a gospel choir. Of course the violin and accordion return. Songs build melodic layers on top of one another until what emerges is much more than the mere parts.

If you dislike analysis of art, you should consider skipping to the last paragraph. If not, then by all means continue.

Perhaps the most significant shift from Funeral is the inclusion of explicitly religious language, imagery and themes. The title track "Neon Bible," seems to struggle with finding the place of Christianity within contemporary culture. The image of the red and black neon bible is something normally found on the Vegas strip rather than in a sanctuary. Does Christianity have to be flashy and exciting to attract attention? Didn't it work for The Passion of the Christ?

In some ways, it all feels antithetical to the image and feel presented by the band. This is not The Killers, Vegas' poster band, one of edgy clothing, makeup trends and power guitar hooks. That's who should have released a record called Neon Bible. Instead, we get the subtle genius of intermingled instruments and the casual fashion sense of a discount vintage shop or a discovered attic. Don't be jealous, Mr. Brightside.

If "Wake Up" established the group as authors of epic anthems, Neon Bible walks the balance beam of personal and universal without losing a sense of urgency or significance. "(Antichrist Television Blues)" tells the personal narrative of a man exploiting his daughter, all the while asking for divine affirmation. "Lord would you send me a sign/'cause I just gotta know if I'm wastin' my time." "Ocean of Noise" is a story of personal reconciliation encompassed by questions of free will versus determinism. "Black Mirror" laments the difficulty in escaping from the perceptions and language of the self. The black mirror "casts my reflection everywhere." Watch out, the black mirror might be you!

Yet throughout, the album manages to escape an introspective focus. "Keep the Car Running" bursts with pace, suggesting a temporance to life on earth, and expressing a sense of dissatisfaction with the way the world is. If anything sounds like a generational anthem, this is it. In this context, the inclusion of "No Cars Go," a revised song from the band's first, self-titled EP, makes perfect sense. I had always taken "No Cars Go," as a reference to Heaven. Like U2's "Where the Streets Have No Name," a literal Heaven may not be the only reference point. Rather, a convergence between earthly and divine—a meditative state—"between the click of the light and the start of the dream." Religious experience, especially in a culture that values bright city lights and shiny packages, is uncommon—but this album takes us there.

This is the best CD I have purchased this year, and I wouldn't be surprised if it survives as one of my all-time favorties.

Books Make You Fat...

CNN recently posted an article on how Pizza Hut may be contributing (deviously) to obesity in children through their reading program called Book It! Kids get a free pan pizza every time they meet a reading goal. As a student, I remember this program. I got a holographic button with star stickers on it. Since I read non-stop, I got lots of pepperoni pizzas. I am secretly hoping this comes to a class-action lawsuit. I'm not asking for much, Book It! (just a personal trainer).

2006 Story Prize

Mary Gordon won $20,000 for her career-spanning collection The Stories of Mary Gordon. The story that Gordon read during the award ceremony featured a podiatrist and a wolf mistaken for a dog. Tragic and funny! Actually, this is now going on my list of things to read. The list is pretty long and often interrupted by the psychology of love and attachment. Attached, but not in love. Fitter, happier, more productive. A pig, in a cage, on antibiotics (thanks Radiohead).

This is the largest monetary award given for fiction in the U.S. How nice would it be to win? I like that it is only open to collections of short stories. The New School in New York sponsors this competition, which debuted in 2004. Viva la short story.

Story as Performance Art

This is one of the most interesting pieces I've seen in a while. Author Shelley Jackson has taken volunteers to get one word of the 2,095 in her story "Skin" tattooed on his or her body. The story is sent to each participant upon completion of the tattoo. So far, over 10,000 people have expressed interest. Several hundred have all ready been inked. Jackson only sends the story to participants; no one else can read it. She also refers to participants as "her words" and says that she will "make every effort to attend the funeral of a word."

This appeals to me, but I had to think for a few minutes to figure out why. Every author wants (on some level) this kind of intense reader response when they write. A tattoo is pretty intense. Although, I suppose good literature does change people's lives--or at least people's perspectives on life, which is just as good. At what point does this desire turn into unhealthy arrogance? Does calling participants "words" marginalize them? It seems strange to me. Almost as if, when a word dies, Jackson feels that a part of her story has died too. (Really, should one be worried about a tattoo when a person has died.)

In short, I love the creativity but wonder about the motivation. Also, I love the way these typical fonts look on skin. Some of the tattoos, and a description of the project, are available for viewing here.