Newspaper + Marker = Poetry. Buy the book.
Our lease was up in July, so Meg and I moved into her parents’ house to save a month’s rent for our upcoming move. We’re leaving a ton of our furniture in Cleveland, and we’ve outfitted Meg’s old room as a guest suite. As a result, I have one of the nicest workspaces ever — my blue desk now looks out onto the lovely woods, with the birds chirping.
They also have an NYTimes subscription, so you might see more blackout poems as the month progresses.
Me and the wife, we’re off to our future home of Austin, Texas to look for apartments. We’ll be there until next Monday. If y’all are from the area and y’all want to grab a drink, shoot me an e-mail…I’ll be checkin’ it. If you have any suggestions for stuff to do, apartments to rent, or possible jobs for me, send those too. We’ll take whatever we can get!
By the way, the New Yorker has two Austin-related articles this week. One is about why the archives of so many writers end up at the Harry Ransom Humanities Research Center, the literary archive of the University of Texas. (On my list of places to visit.) The other is Sasha Frere-Jones reviewing the new album by Spoon, one of my favorite bands in the world, who just happen to be Austin-based.
Wish us luck!
This was a weird one for me: I actually used a complete article (the NYtimes article on Tony Millionaire), and then pasted all the parts together to make one looong poem:
So…the 3-day weekend approaches. I think we’re going to sleep in a bunch, read, draw, maybe hit the art museum, walk the cemetery, then go see Harvey and Joyce at the Coventry Unitarian Church (Sat 8PM), and then celebrate Meg’s birthday on Monday.
Have a good one!
Haven’t posted one of these things in a while…
A short one:
No, this poem isn’t about my wife. She isn’t old.
“In the end, what is the difference between actual, personal memories and pseudo-memories? Very little. I recall certain episodes from the novel or the movie Catcher in the Rye or the movie David and Lisa as if they had happened to me – and if they didn’t, so what? They are as clear as if they had. The same can be said of many episodes from other works of art. They are parts of my emotional library, stored in dormancy, waiting for the appropriate trigger to come along and snap them to life, just as my “genuine” memories are waiting. There is no absolute and fundamental distinction between what I recall from having lived through it myself and what I recall from others’ tales. And as time passes and the sharpness of one’s memories (and pseudo-memories) fades, the distinction grows ever blurrier.”
After only a few weeks, I’ve decided to shut down the Newspaper Blackout Poems blog. With work, three different comics I’m working on, and doing my own poems, I just don’t have time for any other project. (I’ll still be posting some on this site now and then.) Thanks to everyone who sent me their poems, and I hope that those interested will go on doing their own.
I had one [pitch] where Batman went completely broke. His corporation went completely broke. He was like, ‘should I throw this Batarang? These cost me $550 each. I’m not really sure I can afford to throw it. I should probably just run.’ And he had to sell all his cars and ride a bicycle around. If anyone sees him on a bicycle with his costume on, they’ll catch him, so he can’t even wear that anymore. He just has to wear a t-shirt and run around. They said, “no, we’re not going to do that” [laughs]. I’d like to do a story about the real Batman, what a real Batman would be like. Just some guy, who’s not really that rich. He’d just run around and try to figure out where the crime is. In my neighborhood, all he’d be doing is running up to cars where they’re selling drugs out the window.”
—Tony Millionaire, interview