Issue #1 Now Available!

It's Alive! Inkshed Magazine's debut issue has now been printed and spray painted. I'm startled by the greatness it contains, including some wonderfully bizarre illustrations. You can buy the first copy at the Inkshed blog, and I suggest you do so immediately.

I wish Staind didn't suck so much

I guess it's been a while since I've updated this. I'll chalk that up to an insane amount of reading and the pain in the ass of trying to finish the debut issue of Inkshed Magazine. Only a week left until its release. Also ran into some problems with viruses that made me serious question the motives one must have to want to fuck another over so royally yet in such a cowardly way. But I'm up and running again with Ubuntu, and it's working somewhat okay. Also got my first film credit recently for lighting in Andreas's trailer for David Peak's new novel, which everybody should buy, read, repeat.

Excited about Story Week coming up, especially to get my copy of them signed by Joyce Carol Oates. It should be pretty amazing. Also, of course, Bonnie Jo Campbell will be there and her collection American Salvage is infective.

Caught

Heard the news that J. D. Salinger died today at the ripe old age of 91. I'm sure there are many in the world that didn't even know he was still alive given his infamous isolation. I was probably about fourteen or fifteen when I read Catcher in the Rye and loved it. Read it since then and felt less than enthusiastic. Aside from his landmark work, he was truly a writer of genius. Much more interesting than Holden Caulfield were the members of the Glass family. A fiction tutor I had once read "A Good Day for Bananafish" during our first session and upon completion of the semester, she gave me a copy of Nine Stories. That sent me rolling through the other published works and just over a week ago I finished Raise High the Roofbeam Carpenters and Seymour: An Introduction. I joked and said I felt a form of depression without having any of his works left to read until he died, which I assumed would be a couple years off. Then I heard the news today and felt at first, sadness, and later anxiety about how his estate will handle his work, about forty years of it that has never seen the light of day.

He did more than any other writer for his contract with a big, evil New York publisher. I once heard that he even took paint chips in to show the exact shade of white he wanted on the cover. He also made sure that none of his characters would ever be depicted, at least until the copyright laws expire. I just hope I'm gone by the time the put the film version of Catcher in theaters.

Readathon

The Great Chicago Read-o-rama is drawing to a close. While I'm probably the only one who refers to it by this title, I know the first few weeks of January keep a lot of people in the warmth of their homes and flipping some pages instead of the facing the ungodly frigidity of Chicago. So far since December I've knocked out:
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce
The Favorite Game by Leonard Cohen (yes, that one)
The World According to Garp by John Irving
Let the Dog Drive by David Bowman
Where You Once Belonged by Kent Haruf
High Fidelity by Nick Hornby
and intend on finishing Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters and Seymour: an Introduction by J.D. Salinger by the end of the week. I don't think that's a bad little list at all, and yes, I am bragging about it.

The World According to Me

I suppose that would be a better title for a blog. Just finished reading The World According to Garp, and found it to be an absolutely inspiring story. Wonderfully poignant and disturbing while keeping away from being labeled as sensationalism. It's awakened in me that long dormant desire to create. There is still a stack of books eager to be read in the next two weeks that I really should get to.

The Nameless Decade

As it draws to a close, this turbulent string of years is still without a proper name. A teacher once told me that it was called the "aughts". Some research suggested that it was sort of a name that was not really accepted but rather placed because nobody could come up with anything else. Well nameless decade, you have been fraught with disasters, some happiness, and a few really good films. I'm not sure if I'll miss you nameless decade, or what fruits your events will yield, but your gone, and that's a good thing.

you say rivalry, i say war

263 words was all it was, but I've since been considering the importance of them actually being in print. I'm setting forth my artistic voice. While a simple little Moxy for Newcity is not very significant on a grand scale, it has left me with some food for thought. No longer is my concept of an audience some abstract vision of those who I envision being enthralled with my work, but it's a very real group of people that might have picked up that recent copy. Now I'm faced with the challenge of continuing to submit to them, but the question is about what should I write?

Another thing, Andreas says this is a rivalry. I say he's thinking too small. This is a knock-down, drag-out brawl. This is Ali v. Foreman. This is Lennon v. McCartney. This is acoustic Dylan v. electric Dylan.