THE BEST SITE ON THE INTERNET

http://www.conclaveobscurum.ru/

What will Japan boy do next?

 this is what writers email each other about 

 no, Japan boy, no!

 http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/asia-pacific/6656417.stm

 very ugly dog (now deceased): 

sammagnetweb.jpg

what is this

I’m not sure what this place is or what I’m doing here. I got an email with a login URL, a username, and a password. I forgot about it for half a day then emailed back asking what I should be doing with this. Then I remembered a few days earlier, someone asked me if I wanted to guest blog somewhere. But I didn’t know when. Now I realize that when is now. The reason Ed didn’t return my email is because he’s away; that’s why he needs guest bloggers.

I’m a stranger here, I think.

Here’s an interview with me that was posted on Michelle Lin’s blog today.

In the interview I talk about my book and about how my dog attacked me when I was five. We put the dog “to sleep.” That’s a phrase I like.

Here’s my book, which is called Fires.

Another novel you might like is The Magus by John Fowles. It’s very good.

I’m tired. I ate many oysters tonight, as well as some mango sorbet.

Here’s the beginning of a new novel, which I may never finish:

passing through

Strangelets pass through the planet at 900,000 miles per hour. Space is a great river, the earth is a porous cloth, and in the water are strangelets. (Or you might say they’re a part of it, actually.) Other things in, or of, the water: neutrinos on their way from the sun in the trillions of trillions, muons careening out of deep space, and perhaps even the ghostly and sluggish Weakly Interacting Massive Particle, which no one is sure exists. Those things are all passing through the planet—easily, in numbers beyond comprehension. They are passing through your face now—your eyes and teeth and hair.

Here’s a post on my blog about accidentally going to a gay pool party this weekend.

bored

I Don’t Have a Vagina, But…

Jessa Crispin: “To be even more insulting, the femaleness that the anthologies want me to get in touch with is always of one particular type: the middle-to-upper-middle-class, white, married-with-children kind. The May Queen is especially homogenous, with a large chunk of the contributors writing about how to balance motherhood with their writing.”

Jessa must have read a completely different book than I did. Sure, there may be some essays dwelling on upper-to-middle class life in the book, but the copy of The May Queen I have has a gripping tale told by Flor Morales about crossing the border while pregnant — a decidedly working-class predicament. There’s Meghan Daum’s essay about not wanting to have children, wherein she expresses her frustration at the way society judges her by this decision. There’s Laila’s essay about coming to terms with her ethnic identity. And that’s all off the top of my head, without even flipping through the table of contents.

I don’t entirely disagree with Jessa’s sentiments, but it’s a pity that some people need to fabricate examples rather than use real and specific ones.