With the Desert Split Open Mic, like all in-person literary gatherings, still on hold, I’m missing that live energy exchange. Reading from my office, alone, is not the same, but it is something. I’m interested in how video might be used to improve publicity opportunities for small-press authors. Video allows me to deliver my work in a personalized way. You see my office and hear my voice. I’ll continue to update my YouTube channel when the mood strikes. View the whole virtually yours playlist here, or click below for individual videos. Thanks so much for watching.
We couldn’t blame Samantha Bee, either. In fact, this moment made such an impression on us that we decided to gather a literary anthology in response and protest. It became Feckless Cunt: A Feminist Anthology.
Is Maryanne Trump Barry embarrassed by these leaks? Hopefully she feels unburdened. The only shame is silence, when fellow human beings suffer.
From the Introduction:
The country was in an uproar: the air was saturated with images of crying children, torn from their mothers and fathers, kept in cages. Stunned parents were paraded for the cameras so we saw them as criminals, less than, other. Trump’s “zero-tolerance” immigration policy was a disaster. It seemed a reasonable expectation that his daughter Ivanka, an Assistant to the President who occasionally posed as an advocate for families, might help to clean the mess. But, instead, she posted a shockingly tone-deaf photo of herself with one of her kids wrapped tight in her arms. Samantha Bee called her a feckless cunt.
Suddenly, the cruelty at our border was lost among clutched pearls and shrieks of disingenuous outrage: Samantha Bee said a bad word! The worst word.
Cunt—or, as it is whispered by many otherwise mature adults, “the c-word”—is that word you keep in your back pocket. It is the one word you never, ever say…until you do. Then, the shock of cunt is a weapon. Forbidden so long, it takes on an almost holy significance.
Cunt is a complicated word because its power is held by those who benefit from gender oppression. There is a reason why the words for female genitalia make us gasp and cringe. Samantha Bee was scolded by some of the same pundits and politicians who helped lower the bar to the dirt for acceptable Presidential behavior. But it was when Donald Trump tweeted that Bee should be fired for her “horrible” language that my brain, fully engorged with rage, burst from my skull and squished down the street in search of a fight. I could not take one more day of it: the hypocrisy. The gleeful hate. The false equivalencies. The violent displays of white supremacy and misogyny. The greed. Trump’s smug, petty ignorance. We had all heard him admit to sexual assault, right? Although he said pussy, not cunt. It was not that this moment of hypocrisy and “outrage” was worse than all the others. But it was a moment of ENOUGH.
I posted a call for lean, furious, feminist responses to this moment in the resistance. I gave a tight deadline: July 4, an invitation to declare independence from the petty, patriarchal bullshit. My Inbox became a collective scream.
Hey, you know what’s better than endlessly scrolling social media? Closing your eyes while someone reads you a story that transports you to another world. Maybe—like me—you find an odd sense of comfort in a deep, dystopian dive?
The latest episode of the Simultaneous Times podcast is so good, and I’m thrilled that The Ebb Somatic, my feminist, dystopian (but funny!) podcast-within-a-podcast, is part of it.
The Ebb Somatic is set in 2050 Los Angeles—renamed The Angels after 2039’s American Language Act—in a United States that has finally, fully deteriorated into an anti-woman, anti-queer, wealth-hoarding plutocracy. What persists? Trashy true-crime podcasts, overpriced, “anti-aging” beauty devices, and, perhaps, true love. (This is the same setting as another story of mine, also produced for this podcast: From the Angels to Snakes.)
Huge thanks to Phog Masheeen for the brilliant music and sounds, including the saddest, catchiest jingle. The team producing the Simultaneous Times podcast every month does such fine work, and I hope that you will listen to this episode and then listen to many more.
I’d love to hear what you think.
The Ebb Somatic – Simultaneous Times, episode #29
From The Angels to Snakes – Simultaneous Times, episode #14
We Have Your Connie Moody – Simultaneous Times, episode #18
Once a month, here in Joshua Tree, Cholla Needles Arts & Literary Library hosts an open reading on the outdoor stage behind Space Cowboy Books. Thanks to the ongoing pandemic and mandatory distancing, we’ve been unable to meet in person, but the Cholla Needles website has transformed into a virtual “salon” with an impressive (and growing) collection of poets reading their work. Some, like me, live in the high desert, while others hail from places far beyond. The videos are organized into pages and are well worth your time. I’m fascinated by this medium—how we present ourselves and what we reveal. I’ll always love listening to writers read their work aloud, although of course I desperately miss the face-to-face energy exchange of the Cholla Needles readings and the Desert Split Open Mic. This is not the same, but it is something. I hope you’ll check out my work and the rest on these pages.
Page 1: My reading is from my chapbook of tiny stories as classified ads, Swap / Meet.
(I have a few remaining copies of Swap / Meet available for $5 + USPS ship. worldsplitopenpress[at]gmail[dot]com to order.)
Happy viewing. Stay safe and sane. One day we’ll do this live and in-person again, and we’ll feel that energy exchange, even from six feet away.
With the Desert Split Open Mic, like all in-person literary gatherings, still on hold, I miss that live energy exchange, the intimacy of truths told in confidence to those who will hear. I miss watching us step up and swing and sometimes miss, but always try to listen hard to each other and ourselves. I miss my physical response to words read in halting voices that grab me and shake.
Reading to you from my office, alone, is not the same, but it is something. I am interested in how video might share our work more widely and creatively. Why not, I suppose. Video allows me to deliver my work in autobiographical context. I made a YouTube channel. I’ll update it now and then.
I’ve followed social distancing recommendations for about 10 weeks. It feels like so much longer, doesn’t it? Maybe because it’s been 10 weeks of chaotic change and uncertainty, underlain with faint, abstracted, persistent fear. Even in the flurry of creativity I retreat into in order to cope, I feel the worry slip in. I catch it in the corner of my eye, a reminder that I might as well make the art I want to make, now.
I can be dramatic—I already knew this. 10 weeks in relative isolation isn’t making that less true! I suspect the videos I record in this strange time will become a visual diary of deconstruction or transformation. I will try to embrace my changes, for lack of another choice. We are all, already, different. Nothing is the same, but we are something.
Playlist: virtually yours
Here in Joshua Tree, CA, every second Saturday is Art Walk. All the galleries stay open late with displays of new work; there is live music; refreshments are served; friends meet up and hug. It’s not like that, this month. It’s different here, as everywhere. Quieter and more distant. It’s something we’re all mourning, as we reluctantly explore other means of connection. One of our local galleries, the Beatnik Lounge, just opened a virtual show, “Alone Together: Art in the Time of COVID.” As soon as I heard the name of the show, I knew what I wanted to write for it. I decided to record myself reading it, as I’ve started doing, here and there. It’s not like reading live, but it is something.
Here I am reading “DESERTed,” written in response to a beloved painting by high desert artist Zara Kand. As always, thanks for listening.
This month’s Desert Split Open Mic, and so much else, was interrupted by Covid-19. Life stopped and we held our breath, braced for grief. We covered our faces and hands and stepped back from life. We retreated indoors and watched everyone else do it wrong.
This month, I feel the distance between us acutely. I want to hear your words, online, if not in person. I want you to hear mine.
I’ve written a lot in this socially distant time: more feminist, dystopian science fiction, more pages for a long story in progress that may yet insist on becoming a novel. If we’d held the Desert Split Open Mic this month, though, I’d probably read this, though: You Were the Girl Who, a queer little flash published in Black Heart Magazine back in 2013. Thanks for listening.
Well this is a cool thing at the right time: Our local Space Cowboy Books just asked me to compile a list of some favorite feminist titles. DREAM assignment. I had a blast and hope you’ll check it out: essays, poetry, novels, and more. Buy books online, from the safety (?) of your own home, BUT—buy them from an independent bookseller. Then go wash your hands. Yes, again.
From the moment I realized, as a little girl, that my gender was considered inferior, I’ve sought an explanation. I was heavily influenced by 2nd wave feminists, and I find myself equally drawn to, and educated by, the younger, 3rd wave feminists, who insist the conversation be intersectional. On this list, you’ll find essay collections, books of poetry, novels, even a craft book. It is not intended to be definitive. These are personal recommendations, representing ideas and solutions from a diverse group of writers and thinkers from the late 19th century to present day. I hope that this list, along with the book I edited, Feckless Cunt: A Feminist Anthology, offer inspiration and fuel for the continued fight.
My brief interview with the Simultaneous Times podcast’s Supplemental Log is now live! If you have about 15 minutes, I’d be honored if you listened to me describe my approach to writing, what I’m trying to do as a literary event facilitator, what problems I ran into when writing sci-fi for the first time, and more.
The Supplementary Log features interviews with the authors and musicians of the Simultaneous Times podcast. Simultaneous Times is a monthly science fiction podcast produced by Space Cowboy Books in Joshua Tree, California. So far, they’ve produced 2 stories of mine with full cast recordings and original music. They’re making great stuff every month and I hope you’ll subscribe, as I do.
From The Angels to Snakes – Simultaneous Times, episode #14:
We Have Your Connie Moody – Simultaneous Times, episode #18:
It was my honor to emcee this recent multimedia event in Joshua Tree. We celebrated poet and artist Tamara Hattis and her newly-published collection, Colors of My Pain. The topic was the lived experience of chronic pain and illness, and it was a tremendously moving afternoon. The quality of work was outstanding. How lucky we were, those of us in the audience! And how grateful, to be covered in the Hi-Desert Star: