Bye bye friends. If you contact me here before the end of the year, we can stay in touch. Many thanks for taking the time to read. (December 17, 2015)
... Well, chers lecteurs, since our last meeting two web-sites with my work have done disappeared and a nice new Hollywood movie (very risqué!) has just come out with a story line agonizingly familiar to the February novel entry here. Ancient lessons: You can't teach an old dog new tricks and once a mark always a mark. So, methinks this may be the last days of Iddhis on this site. I thank those who read and inform the General Public that we are indeed engaged in a new novel, hopefully to be finished before the film comes out. Sigh, and onwards. 14 September 15
Only 85 readers for Facebook Man? It's the best thing on my page, by far. Ah well, one never knows WHY anyone reads anything.
Readers who can bear a little politics with their fiction, can take a gander at JIBing on GroundReport. I'm going to Greece soon to cover stories there. http://groundreport.com/profile/19589/
I'm adding a few new stories. I don't know what any of them mean, or what their value, relative or otherwise, is. I keep writing. I'm not into the woods yet. o7.2013
"Around the campfire at night, G-d arranged it so that the plays the shadows performed re-enacted his creation of the world. In these plays, he was the prime mover, the first thought, the original germ and seed from which all else proceeds. It really is a great thing to lie around at night naked and watch plays about how grand you are." Map of Lost Beings comes from my book NeoYorkinos, published by the Henry Miller Library.
This is a new version of an old story, if you catch my drift.
"I don't mean to be a pain in the ass. It just comes naturally."
So here we are, the first or second line. Anyone notice these little testimonies to oneself? Who cares? I am so and so - A crashing bore.
So, doubts on all sides - good.
A New Yorker living in Paris, author of the Apartment Thief, excerpts published on several sites and others currently sitting on several desks awaiting inspection by the greater and lesser nabobs of the Vulgate. We all know what a strange game publishing has become. Nevertheless I am here if only to read others, to listen and to learn.
I write art and culture reviews (see nyartsmagazine.com), I scratch the ground for inspiration (like a man dowsing), I junked it all and said, Farewell New York - with the Apartment Thief half-done, to be continued in a dozen cities and on many buses and trains under variable skies. It's a terrible book but I learned everything in writing it. I'll start posting stories as soon as the weather warms up a little bit...
Disenchantment with everything one knows about the world: the sense that a completely inexplicable and unexpected story awaits if one makes the mistake of turning one's head in an unusual direction for even a few seconds. The strange sense that books live within us and incubate, and the simple challenge, the dare.
I've published off and on since I was 18, poems, stories, small presses and large, with a complete disinterest in the Sure Thing of the moment, which probably explains why you are reading this here and not on a gold-plated blog read by millions.
I'm thinking of Apollinaire: "Eventually we all become part of the Ancient World." But only radical art of the moment becomes classic.
Padgett Powell insists his writing isn't "experimental", saying he just "got tired of cornball stories", or that he just can't write them. (The Guardian, Jan. 2012) One must read incessantly.
Don Q; Cortazar; Poe; Dostoievsky, Hamsun, Babel, Singer....I miss Burroughs, why aren't there any writers like that around now? I was lucky, writers like B. and Gysin were "in the air" when I was young. Jesus's Son - I read it ten years ago - does it still hold up? NeoYorkinos, published by the Henry Miller Library in California, is not a bad book - even if I did write it. I define myself as a reader, in the same sense that Borges and Miller did. And by the way, Hopscotch and Ringolevio are both great novels that not enough people read these days.
Thanks, Bing. I agree of course. And believe it or not I do garden my poems quite a lot. The problem is I'm trying to make an overgrown statement on purpose. My idea is like an abandoned piece of land--you can see in the ruins what must have existed there before the storms made certain arrangements to the landscape over time. I cld trim everything, but the haircut wld not be my art but somebody else's vision.
I am launching a small zine (big dreams, small press) based in Paris and Berlin / out in late January. I want to be in contact with Americans on the continent, fiction writers primarily. Who's out there? Is there a way to find them through Fictionaut? I'm living in a small cabin right now so not so much internet and would vastly prefer to use the mail. Correspondence. How do we get started? Anybody here know? Crdlmnt, Bing
I'm very glad you paraphrasing here: made the mistake of turning your head in an unusual direction for even a few seconds and hope to see what else comes out of it.
You are hysterical! I love "The Procedure" and the image I dared to look at on your FB page. Keep flapping those lower leaves!
From one crashing bore to another, I say welcome! And yes, people do read those little testimonials.
I am a Pennsylvanian living in New Zealand, almost as funny as a New Yorker living in France.
From your first post, I'm glad you're here and I can't wait to read more.
Again, I say welcome to our community. Don't have a plate of cookies to give you, though.
Even if Ringolevio is or isn't actually a novel. Pamuk argued recently that novels don't really "begin" before the Russians in the 19th Century - AK is his preferred masterpiece. Where does that leave the great Diderot and a host of others? If Don Quijote isn't a great read, what the hell is? Thanks for your welcome, DP. I live in a place w/o central heating which isn't really an excuse - but I'll get to your stories before mine.
Have to agree about Hopscotch. Welcome.