How to Strengthen a Relationship

Break up and maintain intimacies. Intimacies include fucking and IV drug use.

Between September 27 and 28 Matty and Reilly, whom form the Mystery Books and also part of La Cara Oculta (del rock n roll), played three shows in two different counties in the state of Florida. They played the Pizza Palace on the 27th, then Orlando (along with a reading by Andy Riverbed), then Gainesville as La Cara Oculta (also a reading by Andy Riverbed). By the time they had all gotten to Gainesville, nobody cared about footage, but the Gainesville show was fun as hell too.

The Mystery Books at the Pizza Palace


The Mystery Books in Orlando


Now that you are in love with The Mystery Books, you can download their new album, "Russia" here.

Last weekend was The Fest 7, and that kicked fucking ass. There was a reading. Tao Lin shouted "Obama!" at people. Andy Riverbed fell asleep in random public places.

Tao Lin at the Breakfast Buffet


Andy Riverbed reads translations at the Breakfast Buffet


Andy Riverbed reads new shit


To avoid confusion here are the poems read:

Jesus de chavito

mujer vende a díos en el
metro. gabanes embriagados
le dicen que este no es
el lugar para su jesus.
jesus esta en el tren,
ella dice. jesus es el
chófer. tipa, por lo menos di que
jesus esta en la vía,
piensa el poeta.
jesus es el deseo
para decirle que se lo empuje,
murmura el cínico—
en lo que ve porno en su ipod—
un borracho apestoso
se para:
“¡mis pantalones estan desgarrados
he roto mis zapatos!”
el cínico grita, “¡asique tu eres
jesus! ¡mujer, vete pal otro carro!
¡llevate este jesus apestoso contigo!”

10¢ Jesus

woman sells god on the
subway. tipsy suits
tell her this is not
the place for her jesus.
jesus is on this train,
she says. jesus is the
driver. at least say jesus
is in the tracks, lady,
thinks the poet.
jesus is the desire
to tell her to stuff it,
whispers the cynic—
while looking at porn on his ipod—
a smelly, ripped-pants, drunk
stands up:
“my pants are ripped
I’ve ripped my shoes!”
the cynic yells, “so you’re
jesus! woman, get to the next car!
take this stinky jesus with you!”

-Ra Gabriel

Consumeristamor

¡Corre amor mío! ¡Corre, que te patentizo!
No dejes que te haga mercancía de mi poesía,
brincando de poema en poema cada vez que se me antoje consumir tinta en un papel…

¡Corre amor mío! ¡Corre, que te patentizan!
Aléjate de tu casa, de tal calle, de x urbanización;
no te encuentres al alcance de precios;
escóndete de los que contratan y adquieren derechos,
los que auspician y consumen,
y ahora de seguro te consumirán y te auspiciarán…

Tú, empaquetá, en la vitrina loca porque te saquen de la tienda.
¿A qué precio?
¡Yo, empaquetao en mi vitrina, sin poder comprarte!

Ambos destinados al combustible, a los vehículos,
a los anuncios,
a la propiedad privada y a la deuda.
¿A qué precio?

¡Corre amor mío, corre! Que nos patentizan…

Consumerist Love

Run my love! Run, because I want to patent you!
Don’t let me turn you into a commodity of my poetry,
jumping from poem to poem each time whim takes me to consume ink on page…

Run my love! Run, because they’ll patent you!
Leave your home, in that street, in x suburb;
don’t find yourself at the grasp of prices;
hide from those who’ll contract you and keep the rights,
who’ll sponsor and consume,
and now surely they’ll consume and sponsor you…

You packaged on display, crazy to be freed from this store.
At what price?
I’m packaged on display, unable to buy you!

We are destined to fuels, to vehicles,
to advertisements,
to private property, and to debt.
At what price?
Run my love, run! They want to patent us.

-Alfredo 'Cofre' Perezjurado

Gato, poema, y notas

no era gran cosa
las hojas de arce se estaban volviendo
un rojo almibarado y caían
a la cera
gente caminaba sus perros
en la cera
cargando sus bolsitas
carros paseaban
un avíon proyectaba su cuchillo atraves la gelatina
del cielo
gatos jugaban en
el patío
changos nidaban en
las muletas de arboles
viejos

no era gran cosa
hasta que las gomas se resbalaron

Notas: es una cosa increíble. Una reliquía de verdad. El padre, un hombre de aparencía gracioso de Londres, había tenido una esposa de Indonesia que siempre corria por to laos casi desnuda. Piel terrible. Ella se desaparecío un día. El dijo que no entendíamos como ella no podía bregar con los EEUU. Ya no importa. Ellos vivían en la casa al lado del mío, pero no tan grande. El mío es el mejor de la calle. Su esposa nueva volvío pa Texas despues del accidente. Ella era mona—mas de mi gusto que la Filipina—pelo corto, nariz pequeño, pecas, y dientes grandes. Me gustan dientes grandes y fuertes en una mujer—le da caracter. Su nombre era Kathy, con una ‘K.’ Me sentía mal por ella. Ella vino una noche pa darme algunas de sus cosas antes de que empaquetara y se largara. Me dejo el gato del nene. Ahora tengo tres, cual es una jodienda, pero no podía decir que no. Le quise preguntar que se quedara conmigo—que se mudara. Yo la sentía tan necesitada. Ella perdío todo que le importaba. Pero volvío a su hogar. Pa Texas. Lo increíble fue que encontraron el poema en la ruína. Me lo dío con el gato, Rusty. Dijo que lo publicara, asique aqui esta para que todos lo lean. Ese maldito accidente. Esas hojas resbalozas.

Cat, Poem, and Notes

it wasn’t much of anything
the maples were turning
syrupy red and falling
at the sidewalks.
people walked dogs
on the sidewalk
carrying their little bags
cars ambled past
a plane cast its knife across the jelly
in the sky
cats were playing in
the yard
crows brooded in
the crutches of old
trees

it wasn’t much of anything
till the tires slipped


Notes: it’s an amazing thing. A relic really. The dad, a funny looking man from London, he’d had an Indonesian wife, always running around half-dressed. Bad skin. She disappeared one day. He said we couldn’t understand how she couldn’t take the U.S. Not important now. They lived in the house next to mine, not quite as big. Mine’s the best on the street. His new wife moved back to Texas after the accident. She’s cute—much more my type than the Filipina wife—short hair, small nose, freckles, and big teeth. I like big, strong teeth in a woman—gives ‘em character. Kathy was her name, with a ‘K’. I felt really bad for her. She came over one night to give me some of her stuff before she packed up and left. She left the boy’s cat with me. Now I have three, which is a handful but I couldn’t say no. I wanted to ask her to stay, with me—move in. She seemed so needy. She lost everything that mattered. But she went back home. All the way to Texas. The amazing thing is they found the poem in the wreck. She gave it to me with the cat, Rusty. Said to publish it, so here it is for all of you to read. The damnedest thing that accident. Those slippery leaves.

-Ra Gabriel

And guess what? Andy Riverbed's debut collection is availble to preorder here. It only cost $13.95 if you preorder through Paypal. If you don't have a Paypal, hit up andy.riverbed@yahoo.com and something will be done.

There's an interview with Andy Riverbed mediated by his publisher, Ra Gabriel, in which Riverbed talks much shit. Check it out here.

Tell everyone you know.