Thursday, December 8, 2011

december 8th, 2011

Few things to speak about in this post, which is always a good thing.

First-- station to station will appear in the new issue of Out of Our, which will be printed on Friday. Booyah! This is my third piece in their publication, the first two being my generation and forever grasping a clutching, which led off the previous issue.

Second-- the new issue of Beatdom, featuring horseshit, focuses on the topic of religion. I find that amusing. Basing my guess on the info in the link, it should be available for purchase soon.

And the last little announcement is that soon enough more stores will be carrying my books on consignment. At the moment they are for sale here:

Book Soup
Daily Planet
Skylight Books

All of which are in Los Angeles. New stores, out of state (and possibly out of country), will be added to the list in time.

Thanks for giving a shit, take care.

Monday, November 28, 2011


The poem horseshit from Remain Frantic will be published in the next issue of Beatdom. I suggest you check their site out.

Here's a reading of the piece by a friend of mine, Brian Charles:

Also on that link are readings of my generation and nude photographs of immortality. All three are fucking spot-on in my opinion.

I'll follow up with a link to the poem in the issue once that becomes available.

Monday, November 21, 2011

young american poets, pt. 2

Here's "keep it simple" from Jack Defeats Ron 100-64, the second poem to be published on Young American Poets:


Wednesday, November 16, 2011

winter wheat

Two more poems will be published in the new litmag "winter wheat", so look for those in late December, most likely. They are "studying bare walls" and "poets are so full of shit". You can read the second one below:

Check out the mag here:

Thursday, October 20, 2011

young american poets

It took a couple years but "the heavy musk of masochism" finally found a place, here:

The piece "keep it simple" will be posted later in November. Huzzah.

Monday, October 17, 2011

two pieces in new Burning Word

In have two pieces in the newest quarterly issue of Burning Word which you can see here:

I encourage you to check out the full issue which can be downloaded in full for free here:

Thursday, September 22, 2011

"remain frantic" now on sale

"Remain Frantic" is out, hey-o! You can purchase it on for an astonishingly low price of $7.99 here:

Also, "Matzo Ball Soup" is now $7.99, so check that out too.

Yes yes, support me, buy a book, hell, buy 20! As always, thanks for giving a shit.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

september 11th, 2011

throw him a curveball

Late at night
when streetlights silhouette the inebriated
I sit alone in my living room
under my favorite blanket
riding cotton waves with flattened palms
like grease traversing a rose petal.

Sure, sometimes it's lonely
sometimes it's sickening
and sometimes it's just another night alone.

But every now and then
I hurl the blanket to the floor
pop open a bottle of wine
and hunch over a legal pad
clutching a pen that secretes blood.

Blood as black as ink.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

august 23rd, 2011

"define poetry"

says a man struck with spontaneous interest,

interest he has surely attached intellectual power to.

“Define poetry,” he repeats with passive demand.

“Define the medium you so willingly cling to—

the style which so proudly sits atop your meaningless

and pretentious

pedestal of artistic beauty.

Define the form you bow to

solemn night after solemn night—

the hidden hopes of bound immortality which rise

from splotches of ink that stain your skin.

Define the carnal desire to write partial stories and images

disguised as art—

praised only by fellow poets,

read only by fellow poets

and understood only by fellow poets.

Go ahead and smear your abstract bullshit reasons

across every inch of my mental den—

I’ll eagerly await the inescapable moment

in which I dismantle your scripted,

vague attempt at the explanation I seek.”

“Poetry is whatever the hell I want it to be.

Tonight it is this;

the Devil’s advocate,

a reflection upon an idea I love and understand,

an idea I have chosen to dissect

but one I rarely choose to define.

Sure—my answer evades strong labels

and sought-after specifics.

Poetry isn’t simply fiction,

nor is it a simple blend of honest societal reflections

surrounded by flowery imagery.

I have my definition of poetry

and it fancies change

just as we humans fancy change.

And with the completion of each new poem

my approach

and my goal

and my love alters slightly,

riding the swift winds of transformation.

Poetry is mine to sculpt because I hold the clay

between my unrelenting fingers.

Others may feel the inability

or lack of desire

to toy with the “sacred” concept of Poetry.

I don’t consider them a threat

and never will.

I only check my rear-view for the ones

who no longer question dedication,

the ones who feed their hunger

because they must.

Those are the fingers I fear…

but have yet to meet.”

The man’s response is entirely up to you

because I see it as forever irrelevant.

Art is what you make of it,

so I recommend you cozy up to the idea

of being your biggest fan for a while.

Pay little mind to those who try to tear you down,

for there will be many.

Justifying it as jealousy is an arrogant remedy

but often effective and true.

Failing to turn a profit will never break my spirit,

no matter how baffling the business minds find it.

I use rejection letters as bookmarks

because in my mind

they mistakenly passed on good poetry.

Monday, August 22, 2011

bartleby snopes "story of the month"

My story how we die is deeply doe eyed is up for "Story of the Month" on Bartleby Snopes so vote for me below... or be an ass and vote for another piece you like better.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

new publications

After a year-long drought of litmag rejections I seem to be on a bit of a roll. You can currently find me in the newest issue of Bartleby Snopes and Out of Our.

how we die is deeply doe eyed is published on the Snopes page and will soon be available in print for purchase. Come August 27th you can vote for "Story of the Month" so throw me a bone.

my generation and forever grasping and clutching are published in Out of Our, which is available now for purchase but is not yet featured on the site. Mine are actually the first two in the magazine, so cheers to that.

Still looking for a physical publisher for my new book (I'd prefer to have one published for me at least once in my life) and for my new manuscript which is basically a best-of collection. Until then, I'll just keep on chooglin'. Thanks for the support.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

first draft of "remain frantic"

I got the first draft of Remain Frantic in the mail today. A few changes need to be made but it's just about done. Expect it to go on sale before the end of September.

Here's a picture of the cover layout. More updates to come.

Friday, July 22, 2011

july 22nd, 2011 part two

and then you wake up

You’re inside your apartment but it isn’t your apartment. You’re seated in the kitchen and begin to feel loopy. You feel an overbearingly weird sense of detachment from reality and cannot gain a grasp on up/down, left/right. Your dog is nearby, that much is certain, but it’s not clear where. You walk into the living room and take a nap on the couch…

When you awake your sense of detachment has increased considerably. The apartment is bare and everything appears to be a dirty shade of off-white. You look closer and notice strange, almost glowing spots of neon blue on the walls. Soon they’re everywhere and pulsate to the rhythm of your heart. You start to panic and presume there’s a gas leak. You call for your dog and he follows as you stumble down the hallway…

The blue spots are growing and you reach out to touch one but nothing comes off onto your fingers and you continue to stumble towards the door and everything is white and empty and fading and finally you burst through the front door with your dog and immediately call your father who picks up but is distracted and you try over and over to talk and tell him it’s an emergency but he’s arguing with another voice and you say there’s a gas leak there’s a gas leak but he can’t hear you and you’re barely able to formulate a cohesive sentence before you collapse to the cement and pass out…

july 22nd, 2011

a matinee at dusk

I was eating at a sushi restaurant in Franklin Village by myself, switching off between beer and hot sake. Seated at the bar was a 20-something man who was nursing a large beer. Small sip here, small sip there. He began talking to the bartender about a nearby pub (where exactly it was located, the price and selection of beer), then about wine (how he liked red and white, as if he was being specific), then he asked about the history of the restaurant as if he genuinely cared when it was clear he was just trying to flirt. It was a pathetic display of hopeless Asian-infatuation, but it made for a great show to accompany dinner.

The man’s efforts left him stranded and as he sat brainstorming conversation topics, in walked a 40-something lesbian who plopped herself down two seats to his right. Without missing a beat she launched into an advice-heavy dialogue (dialogue being a generous description) about headshots and resumes with the same bartender who seemed taken aback by this involving and sudden exchange. I finished my miso soup, scooted forward and listened with an internal grin before asking for the check.

After adding the tip I took the customer receipt and wrote the following note, then strolled off into the night:

The man at the bar needs
to work on his flirting skills.
And she talks too much.

Thursday, June 30, 2011

New book and more news

So I have a new book in the works, a shorter one this time around, but I'm very excited about it. The main piece is a short story adapted from the novel The Stranger by Albert Camus. I expect this collection to be finished in August or September and it will definitely be for sale on Lulu's online store.

Also-- as of today you can buy my first book, Matzo Ball Soup, on Lulu (with its original and intended cover design, ooh la la). Like JDR it's selling for a modest $9.99. And don't be confused by the pen name, I published this one as Rupert Pupkin. But hey-- that's the name of this website! You bet your fucking ass it is.

That's about it for now. I'll keep you updated on the new book, but honestly, this one is more of a project for me than anyone else. The sales on my first two books piss me right off so for the time being I don't give a shit how many sell. Call it a defense mechanism and you'd probably be correct. Buy it or don't, I'm sick of pretending that somehow this time around hundreds of people will suddenly find a shit to give. It's good writing, it's a project I put a ton of goddamn time into, so if you find yourself interested I encourage you to invest the fucking money and support literature. After all, you're here reading this post.

To end this I'm going to post a piece from the new, yet to be titled collection. This story itself isn’t new, but it's all typed up and perty! So here's organic angst, which I'm quite fond of. YES-- I said I like it. Fuck off.