Saturday, November 29, 2008


The vertical butt crack: genius during sex, bummer when you're wearing diapers.

Friday, November 28, 2008


Short declarative sentences.
Sometimes missing verbs.

(Scrap that. To indicate verbs missing, verbs obviously verboten. Try again.)

Short declarative sentences.
Little verbs.

(Hold it. Ambiguous. We don't mean to imply our verbs are wimpy, impish or otherwise limp.)

Short declarative sentences.
Silent rugged verbs.


Beefy manly prose.

(Beefy? Really? What else, hm? Sturdy? Studly? Stalwart?)

Short declarative sentences.
Silent rugged verbs.
Manly prose.

Like moonshine.
Like rotgut, burning holes in your stomach lining, burning holes in the dawgawn summer, newborn bay-bee moanin' with the heat.

There hangs no tale by Hemingway's six words: for-sale-baby-shoes-never-used -- just a lost afternoon at Babies'r'Us(R) and no receipt to show for it.

Here, sweetie, have a lick of moonshine; it'll put yer suckling infant right to sleep.

Friday, November 14, 2008


So there. I let one troll through on the 'Moderation' entry.

For one reason: to show (as many other bloggers have experienced, some, unlike me, of consequence) that these folks do exist, and post rather nonsensical things (1. Obama is inheriting, indeed, the worse economic situation since 1929; if you think this has nothing to do with deregulation and the fighting of a 10,000,000,000$/month war, go get some sleep and think it over; 2. Government expansion is something the majority of Americans now want, according to at least one poll from the last days that I am too jittery to remember right now. But do you remember Katrina? Do you remember when your retirement account was worth something? If nothing else, we want our government to protect us. I personally think that universal health care, to name one thing, is a good thing;3. Who are you thinking to convince anyway? Me? 3a. Google me, and 3b. I don't vote.)

No, for two reasons: All the trolls here have come either anonimously, or under Blogger IDs that were acquired especially for the purpose of 'commenting' , it seems -- no actual blogs attached.

We must indeed live in a neofascist state, if you don't dare use your name when writing about your fears of the government.

Nothing to fear, my friends, but fear itself.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008


It's now official: Omega Minor has been nominated for the International IMPAC DUBLIN Literature Award. Along with 145 other books.

This award is special for a number of reasons, not the least of which is the tremendous amount of moolah involved -- 100,000 euros. The nominations come from libraries rather than professional judges, which is cool too. Those libraries span the globe. And the award is open to (almost, there is a time restriction) all books available in English in 2008.

So, you ask, who nominated Omega Minor? No doubt the library of Leuven, where you lived for 13 years or so? Nope, not Leuven. Perhaps Brussels, then, or Ghent? Nope, not any of the Flemish libraries. FLEMISH LIBRARIES NOMINATED NOT A SINGLE FLEMISH NOVEL. English-language lit is soooo much more interesting. Soooo open, those Flemish folk, perhaps they might win a literature Nobel after all, one day. Let me repeat that: FLEMISH LIBRARIES NOMINATED NOT A SINGLE FLEMISH NOVEL. And then the Flemish literati cry that nobody takes FlemLit seriously. I bet that if you let the Flemish vote for the world's best beer they'd pick Heineken over Stella, out of sheer modesty.

The libraries that nominated Omega Minor are The Hague and Rotterdam -- Dutch libraries. Dutch libraries also nominated books by Kluun, Kornmehl, Noort, Nooteboom, and van Royen -- Dutch writers. They have some national pride over there. Which makes me even more grateful to the good folks in Den Haag (who, after all, also gave OM its first literary award) and Rotterdam. Next time I visit your town and you recognize me, I'll buy you a beer.

Even if you request a Heineken. But only if the bar runs out of Grolsch.

Monday, November 10, 2008


Harold Polis has a short blog piece on our joint appearance in Gent, for the Award from the Flemish Provinces. W/r/t that baby: Yes, sometimes we do put some socks on that kid.

In case you were wondering: The award was worth 4,999 euros and the money went to Human Rights Watch (who wisely stayed home instead of attending). (I joked later in the week about the timing -- the day of the election -- and how I would have taken i he money home if awarded a day later, but that is untrue: the money was awarded a long, long time ago. Plus, I'd like to see Guantanamo closed, torture stopped, and a time line for troop withdrawal first.) The mysterious 'it' you saw me blog about earlier took the form of two art books so enormous we had to buy an extra suitcase just to get them home.

Trivial detail about that evening: There was also a reading going on in some other part of the building, apparently concerning Proofs of the Existence of G*d. Quite a few of those folks crashed our party and used our open bar to great avail. One 25-something then proceeded to try to pick up Sultry S, in the full presence of her mate and baby. He wasn't prepared to take no for an answer either. It did get embarrassing, but I do not blame him -- that Sultry S even speaks to the likes of me is as close to a Proof of the Existence of G*d as I will ever get.

Sunday, November 9, 2008


On Nov 5, I posted this:

O! What can I say.
That thing with feathers -- it did soar.
Let's soar some more, before we're forced to go down to earth and dirty ourselves playing with some mud, to make bricks, to find uses for.

This post attracted quite a few trolls, whose comments were up for a few hours at a time (the price I pay for being far away from home and not always in my hotel room)-- one claiming Obama is Jewish (confusing our poor readers in Texas even more), one that he is bipolar. I then no longer allowed anonymous comments, which made some people get five-second identities on Blogger to, for instance, claim that Obama is going to be first and foremost America's president.


As a result, I will now moderate all comments. Which means nothing -- everything will pass, except when you troll.

Of course, I'm also getting quite tired of blogging per se. There is no use to it, but not in the same delightful way there is no use to fiction writing.