Ray Succre - One Five A.M. More

Happy Brithday America! Being a social studies teacher in my spare time, I really love all the history that goes down on the 4th. Even though I know a lot of things are historically inaccurate, it's nice to think about how far we've come as a country. So, to honor this wonderful event, here is a beautiful poem from Ray Succre is a beautiful. Why is it that really good and descriptive poems make me want to smack my lips together in joy?

One Five A.M. More

Above the gray-moor pave and par-decent folk,

across finicky airs, both the natural and the man-made,

and in hardnesses beneath crisp motions,

near dead pansies from a truck-bed drop,

persistent blood and ostensible living.

Most eat tension, pissing better, paychecking as by zip-line,

to fidget up routine's hem before elasticity sets on,

and have the days rude hard, a happening of sensual activity,

and ruddy deep.

If the waist opens to expel its foal, this life is by its own banks

accusatory, obsessive, expulsions and inhalations

in the core like a love.

I know this nature has a fuck to it, a sensibility you can taste,

and I, too, breathe on the grey-moor pave,

as the grit crawls up my thighs and the whumps land down,

warmly taking me for senseless

Dzanc Books Writing Seminars

So, Dzanc Books is putting together an online seminar to help writers write their books and get good feedback for their works. It's incredibly flexible and inexpensive and a good way to get your work looked at, even if you're at school to learn to write anyway. Published authors and editors will read your work and e-mail you an evaluation. Additionally the money they make goes to helping little kids learn how to write.

So check it out at http://www.dzancbooks.org/creative.html, and while you're there look at some of the great books that they put out!

Becky Hunt - You Eat a Live Pig and other love songs

Today we have a pretty funny collection of lyrics to popular songs by Becky Hunt. I think my favorite is the Proud Mary one because it reminds me of high school.

You live like a pig, and other love songs.

• Coolio: Gangsta’s paradise.

And maybe we are living in a gangsta’s paradise, that’s if gangsta’s love to live in filth, with dirty socks and underwear strewn across the floor, mixed up with the weekend papers, beer cans and ashtrays. Let’s be honest, this is a gangsta’s embarrassment – it’s disgusting. No, I don’t think I’m overreacting. Well, you better watch how you talking, and where you where you walking, or you and your homies might be lined in chalk!

All I’m saying is tidy up. Another thing I’m saying is that gangsta’s know how to sort out recycling, so don’t throw those beer cans in with the normal rubbish.

• Millie Smalls: My Boy Lollipop

My boy Lollipop, you make my heart go giddy up. And when I say heart I mean mouth. And when I say giddy up I mean the fridge is empty. So why don’t you lollipop your shoes on and go to supermarket and buy some food. I honestly don’t see why food shopping is my sole responsibility. We both have jobs and earn salaries, so we should both buy food. It’s perfectly reasonable to expect we share the financial burden of being sugar dandies.

• The Teddy Bears: To know him is to love him.

To know know know him is to find him grossly negligent of basic hygiene. It’s also to be sick sick sick of him. I’m talking directly to you through the bathroom wall. You’ve probably already guessed that I’ve just found out you forgot to flush the toilet, and it revolts me. What’s wrong with you? I’ve seen TV shows where cats can flush the toilet, and you’re a grown man with hands. Look, I’m not interested in talking about it; I just want you to deal with it. And I do, and I do, and I do.

• Ike and Tina Turner: Proud Mary

Big wheel keep on turning, violent anger keep on burning. Why am I so angry? Because I’ve discovered that you spilt red wine over my laptop and now the laptop is dead. Didn’t you think I’d notice? That I was going to sit there with red wine pouring out through the keyboard and not notice? How am I going to work for the man every night and day now? Yes, I am serious - until you replace this laptop it’s going to be you who’ll be worrying ‘bout the way things might have been. What? You can’t afford to replace my laptop? Then it looks like, as usual, we’re not going to do things nice and easy, because when it comes to respecting other people’s possessions we never do things nice and easy.

• Frank Sinatra: My Way

I did it my way, as in the normal way, as in I washed the dishes. Your way, leaving the dishes to crust together in a heaped pile in the sink, is a shit way. It makes me want to roll myself up in a big ball and die. No, I don’t care if that lyric is from That’s Life, it’s all Frank Sinatra. You’re missing the point completely. Listen, if you don’t stop I’ll show you exactly where my vagabond shoe is longing to stray.

• Womack and Womack: Teardrops

Okay, we need to talk. Whispers in the powder room have informed me of the state of the kitchen. The stench of something rotting reminds me baby of you. Overflowing bins, next time we’ll be through. We’ll be through, we’ll be through, (take the bins out), we’ll be through, yeah.

OMG!

Oh wow! McSweeny's is offering three columnist jobs! Your writing could appear on the famous front page! Check out the rules! Who knows, you could be the next writer of a column about growing a mustache!

The Singing Butler - Chris Hubbard

Today we have a nice refreshing piece of prose from Christopher Hubbard, a very dear friend of lo-fi's. Enjoy reading this lovely work titled the Singing Butler and let the descriptions wash over you like the rain that's falling outside (at least in NJ)

THE SINGING BUTLER

A waltz under dark skies, on slick, shiny tan earth. Lovers roam the grounds whilst servant borne umbrellas stave off rain drops from the black, rolling, sheets above. Shadows paint short lines in the ground, proof of a sun, piercing through the afternoon gloom. All stand in black or white but one; a rose in a bland garden of activity, she swirls in bloom around her partner, completely relaxed and free. In contrast to the standard bearers around her, in a silent tango, in the vast, damp wasteland

Don't Smile

So normally we don't put up videos, but check out this experimental film Lo-Fidelity's friend Ricky Lorenzo and a group of unspecified ruffians. Post what you think it means below!


It's also at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zYDnrmDUP50 if you can't work hyperlinks.

Bike ride inspiration, also links!

So after a relatively eventful bike ride to the library to drop off a book I read on Zen through the eyes of a hardcore musician I decided I would post a news post. The book, by the way, is very concise and well explained introduction to Zen Buddhism. It's official title is Sit Down and Shut Up but both of the books by Brad Warner are about Zen Buddhism and hardcore (punk rawk). Check it out.

First of all Glen is going to Minnesota, wish him luck and bug him about not writing anything lately. Also, there are a bunch of new stories up at 50 to 1, a collection of 50 word stories and 1st lines of stories. Broadset has posted an interview of Maryann McFadden (an author of two books). Keep updated on that blog too, I hear that they're going to interview Ben Greenman soon. And if you don't know who Ben Greenman is, click his name and look at his stuff and laugh your ass off. In a good way.

There I think I gave you enough to keep you occupied at work for a minute or two.

Quick poll (answer in the comments) Would you subscribe to a lo-fidelity twitter account?

Gingerbread Lady - Michael Lee Johnson

Today we have a poem from Mr. Michael Lee Johnson, a very accomplished poet published all over the world and writer of really excellent poems. Check out this musing on getting old, it's a good read!

Gingerbread Lady

By Michael Lee Johnson

Gingerbread lady,

no sugar or cinnamon spice,

years ago arthritis and senility took their toll.

Crippled mind movies in then out, like an old sexual adventure,

blurred in an imagination of finger tip thoughts−

who in hell remembers the characters?

There was George her lover near the bridge at the Chicago River

she missed his funeral, her friends were there.

She always made feather light of people dwelling on death.

But black and white she remembers well.

The past is the present; the present is forgotten,

who remembers?

Gingerbread lady.

Sometimes lazy time tea with a twist of lime.

Sometimes drunken time screwdriver twist with clarity.

She walks in scandals sometimes she walks in soft night shoes.

Her live-in maid smirks as Gingerbread lady gums her food,

false teeth forgotten in a custom imprinted cup

with water, vinegar, and ginger.

The maid died. Gingerbread lady looks for a new maid.

Years ago arthritis and senility took their toll.

Yesterday, a new maid walked into the nursing home.

Ginger forgot to rise out of bed,

no sugar, or cinnamon toast.

Road Trippin'

Well, I just got back from a road trip to New England (including visiting Jack Kerouac's gravesite and hometown) and am ready to start posting some of the awesome submissions that we've received in the last few months. Don't forget that we still need more artworks if at all possible.

Also, the plans for Lo-Fi 4 are in the works with the Broad Set Collective doing a collaboration and featuring a writer! Be sure to stay posted on what we're doing.

Today we have a poem from Howie Good called Autumn Sonata. I'm really diggin on the flow and images. Very cool stuff Howie!

AUTUMN SONATA

When the tree, in high dudgeon, suddenly

pushes through the polished wood floor,

and the congregation of small scared birds

disbands in confusion,

when the deaf despise the hearing,

and the night janitor at the Museum of Mad Ideas

wipes with special care

the shatterproof glass under which

Hitler’s voice rages,

time’s up,

and I shed my coat on the ground

and lie down beside her,

believing,

as we curl gratefully into each other,

what is real is whatever is

faded, or broken, or falling.

News fit to blog

Glen has yet another story published! This time in the excellent blog for every year where they write a story honoring every year since 1400 (the death of Chaucer if you're interested). Glen's story is about male postpartum depression. But you have to read it to find out!


Also, if you've contributed to lo-fidelity and have one of your other works published elsewhere, feel free to tell us about it, we'd love to tell everyone!