Messaged approximately 5 people to go see this movie, no one could go
A few people asked me if I could go next week, but I can’t
Decided to go to the movie by ‘myself’
Am wearing blue Warby Parkers because I can’t wear my contacts for a week
Vaguely feel that wearing Warby Parkers is a ‘stereotypical’ fashion accessory for someone going to watch a movie about David Foster Wallace alone
Decide to park down the street from the independent movie theater and I walk by a hot dog restaurant, a tapas restaurant, a daycare, an Italian restaurant and a chicken finger restaurant
Seems like the tapas restaurant has the most people and I generally believe they don’t notice me walking down the sidewalk
I walk into the independent movie theater and pay for the ticket and then I walk directly into the movie theater and sit down in a center row by myself
There are approximately 12 people in the movie theater
I check my phone and turn off my phone
The lights go ‘dark’ and all of the trailers are about creepy kid horror movies, which made me think I went into the wrong movie
The movie starts in the year 2008 with the news that David Foster Wallace has committed suicide and the Jesse Eisenberg character picks up an iPhone but I cannot tell if it is an iPhone 1 or not
Always on the road, always writing, and always making, Jeremiah Walton and the Nostrovia! crew are poetry in the raw. They’re not afraid of where words might take us. I asked Jeremiah a bunch of stuff, but I forgot to ask about this. Go find him on Twitter and then pick up a book, why not.
Do you consider yourself a ‘writer’? like is that what you identify as?
When people ask me ‘what do you do,’ like in conversation with a stranger, I say, ‘I’m a poet.’ That’s what I focus on. Pretty much everything I do is centered around poetry at this point. The funky conversations it sparks are cool, too.
What are your main ‘outlets’ for writing? (social media, poetry, fiction…whatev else)
Writing poems, & street ciphers.
There’s intimate small group or one-on-one readings that happen as we travel. It’s a good feeling. There’s no stage. No boundaries. No one is better than anyone else, for reasons literary or otherwise. It’s human, people doing what they love, and sharing it with a spontaneous gathering.
Some friends and I, one cat traveling around the country in a short bus, my friend Neeko Ford, a hip hop artist I met in Tucson, and this awesome traveling poet named Clay Bugh all met up at Beast Crawl in Oakland. Clay and I were performing at different venues during the First Leg, and bumped into after performing outside of an open mic where they gave you a shot of bourbon to perform. We spent the night wandering around the Bay sharing poems and experiences and travel stories. The next morning, in San Francisco, we all sat around on the sidewalk for hours reading poetry and freestyling. We were in the Excelsior district. It was beautiful.
**Live Jonathan Franzen Twitter Hate Stream**
Reading books by Jonathan Franzen has been replaced by reading love/hate pieces about Jonathan Franzen.
For reasons beyond my normal brain, he has become a lightning rod so to speak of all everything that is right and wrong about literature RIGHT NOW, partially fueled by jealously, I guess, partially fueled by his privileges, partially fueled by his own grandiose attempts to encompass large societal problems into something like a “great american novel.” (((WHY IS THAT A TERM ANYWAY???))).
But why as a person that reads books I feel that I need an opinion on this person? On his writing?
In his newest novel, he focuses on a young person named Purity (Pip) who is only 23 or so (((YOU HAVEN’T READ THE BOOK HAVE YOU?))). It’s odd for him to pick a character like that, because Franzen has been pretty open about his disdain for Twitter and seems to be technological luddite. I mean, this is a purported professional video about how he hates videos about novels.