Friday 26 November 2010

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NOÖ [12]!

Tuesday 23 November 2010

If I haven't already told you about this somewhere else, check out the new NOÖ. Lots of awesome stuff.

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keeping busy like a gift i can't give back

Wednesday 17 November 2010

Hey y'all, three weird and never before seen little pieces are online at Used Furniture Review, a new online lit mag. Thanks to David Cotrone for asking me to send him stuff. Subjects include tennis, cigars, cake bully God figures, and fair rides. In other words, par for the course. Other pretty cool stuff up at UFR right now includes an interview with Tom Perrota and some poems from Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz.

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"Vanessa"

Tuesday 16 November 2010

Vanessa

There was once a very busy man who worked for a law firm. He worked long hours and his boss gave him a hard time on a regular basis. His mainstay is usually that of a very relaxed, mild-mannered person; but after months of stress and pressure from his job, he felt as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. After finally reaching his weekend off after working two weeks straight, he just wanted to go home and relax. He arrived home Friday evening and promptly fell into is favorite recliner so that he could read his newspaper and hopefully take a nap or two. His plans were sure to be averted, though; due to a small yet very significant miscalculation: His nine year old daughter: Vanessa.

Vanessa loved her father with all of her heart. She likely favored him over her mother, even; due to the fact that he is slightly more willing to offer incentives to her. Vanessa and her father used to go on their own little outings regularly before his big promotion at the law firm; but she rarely gets to see him nowadays. She was obviously elated to find him home; so she went to greet him and spend some time with him. He sat there with his head buried deep within his paper; but removed it slowly when he felt the presence of someone else in the room. As he removed the paper from his face, he saw his daughter's face light up with a smile bigger and brighter than the sun itself. 

He didn't really have to guess what his little girl wanted; thanks mostly to the huge smile on her face. She reached out to hug him and he grabbed her with his right arm to give her a kiss and a big hug; but before she could relay her request, he issued one of his own: "Vanessa, can you give me about five minutes? I want to catch up on some of my reading." Not the least bit disappointed, She nodded her head and went to her room to go play with her dolls. 

Five minutes flew by.

 Vanessa returned to the living room where her father sat still reading his newspaper. He glanced up to see her standing in her usual spot directly in front of him; as patient and excited as before. Still extremely tired, he said to her: "Honey, can I have about ten more minutes? We'll go out for ice cream afterwards, okay?" Still determined and very hopeful, she nodded her head once more and skipped back to her room. 

Ten minutes have come and gone.

 Vanessa once again made her short trek back to her father. He was starting to feel slightly more rested; but still needed more time. As she stood there lovingly staring at him, he once more asked her: "Just fifteen more minutes, baby. I'll be ready to go by then." She agreed without even an ounce of frustration and once more returned to her room to watch television. 

Fifteen minutes have passed. 

Vanessa decided to walk slowly back to the living room this time in hopes of giving her father an extra minute or two of rest before they got ready to leave. She found her way back to her familiar position right in front of him. Seeing how determined Vanessa was, he devised a plan that would hopefully occupy her some while he took a nap. 

There was a huge picture of the planet earth on one of the pages of his paper. He tore the page from the rest of his paper, and to his little girl's confusion, tore it into pieces about the size of her hands. He handed it to her with a roll of scotch tape and told her: "Vanessa: if you can finish this puzzle of the earth in good enough time, then we'll head out to the theater to see that new movie you've been waiting on." Vanessa's eyes widened like two huge gems. More excited than she has ever been, she sprinted back to her room to get started. Her father was more than sure this would guarantee at least half an hour of nap time; so he placed his newspaper over his face and nodded off.....

......two minutes have elapsed.

He felt a tap on his shoulder. He once again glanced over to see his beautiful daughter with her trademark smile looking back at him; only this time, her hands were behind her back. "What's wrong, honey? Having a tough time with the puzzle?" he asked her. She shook her head no; so he asked her "Well, where is it, baby?" 

With a slight giggle, Vanessa revealed a completely repaired page with each and every part of the planet earth right where it belongs. Extremely surprised, He asked her: "Vanessa, how were you able to complete the puzzle so quickly?" She smiled and replied: "There was a picture of Jesus on the back of the paper. I put him in the middle and the rest of the pieces were easy to put back together."

Moved by how keen his daughter's discovery was, he rose up from his chair, threw away his newspaper, and took Vanessa out to see her favorite movie and then to get some ice cream. 

Every day since then, he lived a stress and worry free life; because he knew that if his daughter Vanessa could find the center of all things, then he most certainly knew who was the solution to any and every problem that was sure to befall him.

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Vitamin D for darkness, Publishers Weekly for self-esteem

Tuesday 9 November 2010

Here's Publishers Weekly's review of Look! Look! Feathers:

'Young hits the mark in this smart, quirky debut collection, where base humanity—like the macho behavior of a high school gym teacher who is revealed to have only one testicle in "The World Doesn't Smell Like You"—is juxtaposed against a crushing swell of technology and pop culture. Social media, brain-Internet browsers, and reality television all feature in Young's stories, and institutions like the 24-hour grocery, the "old hotel on Mason Street," and Facebook are venues for Young's twisted tales. In "Mosquito Fog," two online companions arrive at an awkward moment when widower Russell discovers his online confidante, contrary to her online profile, is not his contemporary but a teenage girl. The couple at the center of "Snow You Know and Snow You Don't" slowly reveal in a letter to their unborn child the strange way they cope with a domestic tragedy. Meanwhile, in "No Such Thing as a Wild Horse," the transformation of a local fun park "from something rinky-dink into something grand" is held up, albeit wryly, as a beacon of inspiration. This is a slick collection—relevant, wise, and immensely enjoyable. (Dec.)'

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reformed turnpike bully

Saturday 6 November 2010

Hey, the cool and enthusiastic Tyler Gobble interviewed me for Small Doggies and included a review of We Are All Good. I talk about Christmas bags and know-what-I-mean versus no-I-don't, and also I nonsensically talk shit on Tony Hoagland. Check it out. Thanks, Tyler!

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Friday 5 November 2010

Let's recap: gypsy Halloween singalong, Pet Semetery, cheap gyros, matching b/f, g/f taco costumes, blue jumpsuit, motherboards dangling from neckties, parties of social coincidences, a perilous van ride singalong.

Then the Barry Hannah tribute on Wednesday, hosted by Gene Kwak. Really well-lit time at Newtonville Books, lamps and early release copies of Barry's posthumous selected-and-new collection, Long Last Happy. Joy-stuffed reflections and remembrances, guns with popcorn in them, lots of gut shots and gut laughs of prose. Folks from all over to celebrate a fine man of Oxford, the Southern one. I was humbled to have an opportunity to yak a little about my relationship to the work of Barry Hannah, who was a heart wrangler, a soothsayer, a white hot pilot of knowing why stories are worth it. And humbled especially to read in such company: Askold Melnyczuk, Amy Hempel, Sven Birkerts, Jennifer Haigh, and James Parker. I read "Coming Close to Donna." I wore my best shoes. Later I ate some Eggs Benedict Pizza, and I was a little drunk when I ate it, so I didn't realize until now that such a dish is like something invented as a Christmas present by my kindest dreams.

Next day, I guest-lectured about theft and verbal storytelling in Gene's UMass Boston class. Sharp folks, all ages, creased by experience. Gene was sick and I convinced him to eat some ginger chicken soup. Rain fell on the lake and the UMass Boston campus looked like a prison movie before the redemptive part. Later we got fried chicken, black-eyed peas, and wonderful clove-tasting sweet potatoes delivered to Gene's abode, which was very brave of the delivery people, because I guess Gene likes to shoot them. Or wait, maybe that's his neighbor. That night I read at Lorem Ipsum books (thanks to the kind Pete and Kate for setting things up), which had recently moved into an old refrigerator store. I read with Mark Leidner and Elisa Gabbert. Leidner was hilarious and Gabbert was genius, though each borrowed liberally from both afflictions. I ate some salt and vinegar chips. Gene alas was too sick to read, but he was missed. People made eye contact in wonderful ways. Mark and I stopped at a convenience store on the way back to Western Mass, and then we wondered what would happen if America were one big corporation, and all the billboards just had ads for specific products like: APPLES! CHAIRS! BRACELETS!

Now I am home and working on getting shit together. Some linkage news includes two new reviews of L!L!F, an enthusiastic one in the Brooklyn Rail and a lukewarm one on the blog Glorified Love Letters. Over on the NOÖ Journal blog, Gabe Durham talks about James Robison's 1988 novel The Illustrator, which I want to call a punt-return-for-a-touchdown book because that's the kind of damn good I think it is. And, you can win a free copy of Dennis Cooper's new essay collection Smothered In Hugs by just posting a comment about your dreams or making up a dream and posting a comment. Super easy. Win a free book. Stay tuned for more NOÖ blog content, including long overdue RAD Poetry videos, as I try slaphazardly to hype the run-up to NOÖ 12. The trick is getting past the kicker, who's always a better tackler than he should be.

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"Pink Passion Fruit"

Monday 1 November 2010

Pink Passion Fruit


I long for the taste.
I still remember the sight.
I lust after it so much,
I can hardly sleep at night;
and it truly never fails.
Every time that I close my eyes,
I still think of that moist confection
resting within her candy-coated thighs.
I want it so much
that mere words fail to measure
how bad I crave that sweet taste
that gives me so much pleasure.
My hunger is beyond suppression;
so I'm always in heavy pursuit
with an insatiable obsession
for her pink passion fruit.


I can't go one day without her.
I'm nervous with discontent
if I can't fill my lungs
with her sugar-sweet scent.
I often reminisce
over the look on her face
when we pull closer to each other
for our dark, forbidden embrace:


We ravage each other frantically
as desire builds in our eyes
just to remove these binding wrappers
of blouses and neckties.
We share hints of plum & watermelon
with each exchange of the tongue.
The mere sight of her exposed flesh
is something no man can turn from.
The perspiration gets more frequent
with each body part felt;
so the sound gets louder
when I gently strike her apple with my belt.
She quickly falls in to bed
and gives me free reign
to partake of the various flavors
that only her body can maintain.
I give unparalleled pleasure
that she will never forget
As I indulge in the butter-rich taste
while I slowly kiss her neck.
Her movements are free-flowing
as I start to lower my head in
so I can playfully lick around
the outskirts of her honeydew melons.
Her anticipation grows
and mine's even more so
as my tongue starts to dance
around her smooth, caramel torso.
She wipes the sweat from her head
as she starts to close her eyes
whilst I nibble ever so gently 
on those same candy-coated thighs.
She feels as if she's lost control;
but she submits freely
and willingly parts her limbs
to allow me to begin feeding.
I imagine the look on her face
as she slips into convulsions
from my lips digging deep with ambition
as I lick with strong, unbridled emotion.
I just love the mixture of flavors;
from tangerine to guava,
then peach-laced mango
and pomegranite papaya.
I continue to feast with vigor
moving my tongue in various motions
until that sweet cherry finally pops
& our bed has become an ocean.


We often give into our pleasures;
sometimes more than once per night.
It would seem as if our desires
are too strong for us to fight;
so I know I'll always want more.
I may never stop my pursuit
to yeild to this undying hunger
for her pink passion fruit.


Written By: Devin Joseph Metz

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