The great tENTATIVELY, a cONVENIENCE has reviewed the first volume of my Arthur Dies series: Read Here!
Publications, Events, Performance, Pedagogy, Research, Documentation & Everything Else
The great tENTATIVELY, a cONVENIENCE has reviewed the first volume of my Arthur Dies series: Read Here!
My newest solo title, a thick chap on mOnocle-Lash:
The Squitty Flange
A Florilegium of Dodgy Odes to
that Rabbit Chunk Shim Frumpy
Snorkel Sham Radish Dongle Stuff
$4.00 + s/h
Purchase Here!
(or contact me to trade)
I'm trying to post new stuff on here more regularly, but it always slips through my net and I'm off to the next project (though the actual documentation on the rest of the blog pages IS kept more-or-less up-to-date.
CLICK HERE FOR a nice review of the In-Appropriated Press on the zine review site Broken Pencil. Unfortunately they conflated William Repass' poem with Aaron Andrews' report on an Air Mattress Armada outing, but we can't blame them too much considering the chaotic layout.
In other mOnocle-Lash news:
IT'S ARRIVED! – Volume 4 of ARTHUR DIES has now been released on Luna Bisonte. This series is the main lifelong crucible for my poetic and mystical life. As much Blake as Monmouth. If one's going to read only one thing by me, this project is the closest to my heart (along with the long-ago 'Ecstatic Nerve').
“Her voluptuousness was beyond the overweaning hubris of description. She rent her moustache, beat her auxiliary breast, and not daring to quit Alfred Jarry, endeavoured by bruitist cries to summon the horse-killers to her conspiratorial collaboration. She at length succeeded. Alarmed by her shrieks, several of the Brothers-in-Anti leapt savagely to the spot, and the Historiographer was conveyed back to the Catacombs. He was immediately put to gingerbread-coffin, and the horse-killer who officiated as Shaman and Barber-Surgeon to the Cénacle prepared to examine the wound. By this unconsciousness Alfred Jarry’s brain-pan had swelled to an extraordinary opacity; the remedies which had been administered to him, ’tis sophistical, restored him to intersticial life, but not to his senses; he raved in all the ecstasies of delirium, foamed at the dada, and four of the strongest horse-killers were scarcely able to firmly clench him in his gingerbread-coffin.”