Slingshot #2 is live

with Howie Good's "Sleeping With the Lights on." I am excited. Are you excited?

I feel deathly ill. My ear is infected or something. Why do you need a prescription for antibiotics? Is it so women don't go destroying their vaginas with overuse?

I also want to show you Dennis Cooper's 1998 interview with Brad Renfro. Over the summer, I camped in Big Sur with a Hollywood production something-or-other who knew Brad Renfro pretty well before he died. He described him as "sullen" and a "good ole boy" both of which are alluded to, sort of, in DC's interview.

i consider this "found art"

it is a conversation with my brother. i don't remember it.

Scott
hey
1:32amJosh
sup
1:33amScott
sitting at adam's
everyone's asleep
and jeff just left
what are you up to?
1:33amJosh
trying to sleep
or something
hate it her
e
1:33amScott
why?
1:33amJosh
eitherbored or pissed
at all times
mostly bored
1:34amScott
sorry
1:34amJosh
i don't care
i sleep like 12 hours a day
1:35amScott
its alright here
1:35amJosh
10-14
1:35amScott
ha
ha
1:35amJosh
the last 4 days
1:36amJosh
i don't want to talk to anyone anymore
i want to go to sleep
and wake up
and watch the dolphins beat the bucs
1:38amScott
ha
1:38amJosh
and then watch the dolphins beat someone else
and keep watching the dolphins beat someone
until i am dead
every day
on thursdays and tuesdays, etc.
what
d you do
all night
1:40amScott
uh
sat ad adam's
at*
played super nintendo
drank some beer
went to this party for like 20 minutes
saw kids from high school i didn't want to see so i left
ha
1:46amJosh
cool
1:50amScott
ha
1:54amScott
damnit
i'm downloading ff7
and it still has another hour
i'm so pissed
i want to play
4:00amScott is offline.

First poem up at slingshot

I am happy to present to you, the viewing audience, Nathan Tyree's "Your face has a fractal geometry".

Read, enjoy, share, submit.

By November of the given year, I have been known by my depression to four separate locales (2005-Plantation, FL; 2006-Canton, OH; 2008-Cleveland, OH; 2009-Missoula, MT).

I read this article today. I laughed aloud at this quote: "Persistently not being able to put the existential realities aside to live and enjoy life, engage those around us or take care of ourselves just might be a sign of depression.

"

What if Prozac existed in Van Gogh's time? Probably would've meant more to him than a posthumous blowjob. It's the "truth" behind depression that makes it worthy of life, though. Someone. Answer this question. Again and again.

Submissions to slingshot have been underwhelming in quantity. slingshot@litareview.com pleeeeease?

Yesterday, I woke up at 2 pm. I got out of bed at 3 pm. I turned a light on at 5 pm. I read some submissions. I did not like them. I read some of "Love in the Time of Cholera." I did not like it. I read Gustaf. I liked one thing. I read The Agriculture Reader. I liked one thing. I listened to music I used to like. I did not like it. I read some of "Tunneling to the Center of the Earth." I did not like it. I watched "Into the Wild." I did not like it.

Today, I bought really expensive headphones. I still don't like any of the music I used to like.

SOLIC(IT)ATION...

I should team up with a marketing major on campus here or something. I am not very good at deciding "what will draw a response."

What I mean to say is, I would very much like you to submit a poem or series of poems or a story of 800 words or less to slingshot litareview, which I now edit.

If you repost or "share" this news item, I will think highly of you.

Strange apparitions keep appearing in my dreams to say reassuring things.

That's not true. I don't dream unless I force myself to dream by applying one of the nicotine patches I occasionally find among my personal effects (generously provided by the state of Ohio over a year ago) before sleep. It seems, however, like that sentence is truer than "truth" can really account for (I heard it said, today, that readers look for fictions in stories purported as true, and for truth in fiction, and I think this is significant on multiple levels). I feel that if I can parlay crushing cynicism and general overwhelmedness until 10 pm tomorrow, I will be "back in control" of my life, which is something Sartre would be proud of, I think.

Feel good about a couple things.

Here's one:


Ryan Bradley likes baseball. Wtf? I am excited about it nonetheless.

There are other things I feel good-to-great-to-fucking-phenomenal about. I will maybe tell you about them later. Maybe.

You know who I hate?



...fuckin hippies, man (esp. college hippies)...but today I purchased an herbal/alternative antidepressant for an amount of money that I would previously have chastised myself for. I also willfully purchased and consumed nothing but "health food items," with an eye toward "feelings of wellness" rather than "immediate response as a result of taste"--again spending an amount of money that I would have been pretty p.o.ed about last week. But you know what? Fuck it. Wallowing is the thing that turns my winters into wastelands, and I am throwing myself at self-improvement, trying really hard not to bother with skepticism, etc. I will regain skepticism in a short while if things don't improve.

If the last 2 hours--including serendipitous events AND general outlook--are an indication, though...I don't know. Maybe I'll start listening to String Cheese Incident or something.

Can I get a whatwhat?