How to know when it’s all over (or how to meditate)

"the day 'oxycontin' was introduced to my vocabulary."

it started out as a cure. maybe not a cure but a workaround, a band-aid, a relief, a coping mechanism.
"take one of these every 8-12 hours," said the vietnamese doctor in the white jacket.

"sure doc. no problem," I replied.

the day was hot. time is always hot in Orange County. the sun penetrates, smothers, suffocates a person. the sun never dies. despite sorrow, death, emptiness, worthlessness, any horrible emotion or event a person can endure, the sun suffers through, slowing everything down, illuminating frailties. a desperate type of glow.

agony becomes the day.

i left little saigon with prescription in hand not knowing in a few hours my chemical makeup would change forever.

- jereme dean


Madore

PH Madore has a chapbook, YOUR, coming out from Publishing Genius Press soon. Check him out HERE.


Online Radio Speech

I was invited by Newamba Flamingo to read and talk shit on his BlogTalkRadio Check that out HERE.


Comprehensive Review of “Russia” by the Mystery Books

David Fishkind wrote a review of the Mystery Book’s “Russia.” Check that out HERE.


ZCB Full-Length

Zachary C. Bush has his first full-length collection has been released. Check that out HERE.

I like Bush’s stuff a lot. So much that I've even done a "cover" of him. You check that out in this video:




CircoCirco Shows

the junkward w/ sexy crimes(richmond), ex-boogeymen, honest arrow, cop shades aug 15
wayward council w/ didimao (san francisco), magic and the johnsons (orlando), diamonds guns gold aug 22
the kickstand w/ tubers, alligator sept 12
trash bash at the kickstand oct 3


New Translations!

***UPDATE***

After being accessed by David Leavitt on the legalities of publishing translations of deceased authors without permission, and out of fear of legal retributions, I have decided to temporarily (hopefully) delete all translations of José María Lima's work on the Instruction Manual until I have official permission to do so.

Sorry for the inconvenience.

- AR 4/26/10


dennis 36 años

la primera cosa que noté
sobre el hombre
que vino a arreglar mi
trituradora de basura
fue la etiqueta con su nombre:

dennis 36 años.

sin decir una palabra
se desplazó hacía mi cocina

con un cubo blanco de cinco galones
haciéndole de caja de herramientas
agarrado en su mano izquierda.

del cubo
sacó una toalla vieja

y la puso sobre el piso
debajo del lavamano
y se arrodilló.

estoy fascinado
y horrorizado
por el tipo de persona
quien trabaja 36 años
en el mismo empleo.

personalmente
nunca he durado
más de un año y medio
en cualquiera.

sentado en la esquina de la cama
en mi apartamentito
pretendí leer
una colección de cuentos cortos
por chekhov

pero lo que hice fue observarlo trabajar

quisiendo saber
qué clase de pensamientos
corrían por su mente
diariamente.

como sherwood anderson
estoy intrigado por lo
grotesco

pero si prestas
atención a esta vida
sabrás que esas preguntas
no se hacen abiertamente
al tipo de persona
que ha trabajado 36 años
en el mismo empleo.

escuché su llave inglesa
caer al piso.
murciélago del infierno,
dijo
y siguió trabajando.

par de minutos luego
puso la toalla
en el cubo
y se paró.

aguantará presión,
dijo
y me pasó por el lado
y salió.

esa noche
estaba borracho
bebiendo crown and seven

haciéndome el payaso
para mi primer
amiga con privilegios en diez años

y me di un golpe en el dedito del pie
contra el pilar de la cama.

murciélago del infierno,
dije
cojeando del dolor.

qué acabas de decir?
llamó ella desde la cama
donde estaba sentada con las piernas cruzadas
y sus trenzas
pintándose
las uñas de negro.

murciélago del infierno
no son mis palabras
me las robé
de dennis 36 años,
dije
mirando hacia abajo
para asegurame
que no haya esquilado
el dedo de mi pie.

ah?

olvídate,
dije
y me le trepé a la cama correctamente
y coloqué el esmalte sobre la mesita de noche
y le descarge
toda mi presíon encima.

- Translated from English by Andy Riverbed with proofs by Marina Reyes Franco


dennis 36 years

first thing i noticed
about the man
who came to fix my
garbage disposal
was his name tag:

dennis 36 years.

without saying a word
he made his way to my kitchen

white five-gallon bucket
in his left hand
serving as a tool-box.

he pulled an old blanket
out of the bucket

spread it on the floor
beneath the sink
and crouched down.

i'm fascinated
and appalled
by the kind of people
who work 36 years
at the same job.

personally
i've never lasted
more than a year and a half
at any turn.

sitting on the edge of the bed
in my efficiency apt
i pretended to read
a book of short stories
by chekhov

but i watched him work

wanting to know
what kind of thoughts
ran through his mind
on a daily basis.

like sherwood anderson
i’m intrigued by the
grotesques

but if you pay
any kind of attention in this life
you know you don’t
ask those kinds of questions outright
to the type of people
who work 36 years
at the same job.

i heard his wrench
drop to the floor.
bat-full of hell,
he said
and kept working.

a few minutes later
he put the towel
in the bucket
and stood up.

she'll take the full load,
he said
and walked past me
and let himself out.

that night
i was sideways
on crown and seven

playing the clown
for my first
fuck-buddy in ten years

and i stubbed my little toe
on her bedpost.

bat-full of hell,
i said
limping it off.

what'd you just say?
she called from the bed
where she sat cross-legged
in pigtails
painting her
fingernails black.

bat-full of hell
it's not my line
i stole it
from dennis 36 years,
i said
looking down there
to make sure
i hadn’t sheared off
the toe.

wha?

never mind,
i said
and got up there properly
and set the polish on the bed-stand
and gave her
the full load.

- Justin Hyde


Maniquís que sudan tinta negra y nunca se divierten

Cazo mariposas con un arco miniatura hecho de ramitas y flechas elaboradas de las arrugas de tu cara, que representan todos los ceños fruncidos que has hecho en tu vida.

Quisiera ser la imagen que creaste de mí porque así me amarías y nunca me dejarías ir.

Estoy en una casa de retirados y estoy durmiendo debajo de la cama de un viejo que no sabe quién es y piensa que su familia ha desparecido.
Le sigo diciendo, “Tic, toc, tic, toc, nadie te quiere y no te aguantaré la mano cuando te mueras.”

Si pones un Twizzler dentro de tu oido parece como si tu oido estuviese vomitando sangre.

Si algun día tengo hijos, será un grave error y le pediré perdón al mayor número de personas que quiera escucharme.

Acuéstate. Es hora de caminar sobre ti y decir que eres un puente que ya no necesitaré.

Amo a todos los que lean esto.

- Translated from English by Andy Riverbed with proofs by Marina Reyes Franco


Mannequins that sweat black ink and never have any fun

I hunt butterflies with a miniature bow made of twigs and arrows fashioned from the creases in your face that represent every frown you've ever made.
I wish I were your made-up image of myself because then you'd love me and never let me go.
I am in a retirement home and am sleeping underneath the bed of an old man who doesn't know who he is anymore and who thinks his family has disappeared.
I keep saying "Tick tock tick tock, nobody loves you and I won't hold your hand when you die."
If you put a Twizzler in your ear it looks like your ear is vomiting blood.
If I ever have kids it will be a mistake and I will apologize to the largest number of people willing to listen.
Lie down. It is time for me to walk over you and call you a bridge I no longer need.
I love everyone who reads this.
- Sam Pink