July 30th, 2014

A Mutable Sounds Review

BJ Thug Life, Scar Constitution, and Metal
Gabriel Chad Boyer

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I wanted to know what’s the deal with BJ Thug Life, and so recently I went to a Metal show in Beijing with thirty-thousand Chinese stuffed down my pants. By which I mean currency, not people. Why I was carrying this brick of cash next to my penis is my own business, but what happened that night is everyone’s business.

 

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July 28th, 2014

Brett: Letter 2: Out to Sea, A Black Hole

Excerpts from the Wes Letters
Brett Zehner

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[The Wes Letters is a collaborative epistolary novel composed of letters to the film director Wes Anderson and recently released by Outpost 19. The below is part of a series of single-letter excerpts from the book. Look for other entries from one of the three authors: Feliz Lucia Molina, Brett Zehner, and Ben Segal.]

 

 

Dear Wes.

 

Hi again.
         I just turned 28. I wrote a song called 28 with a sweater and a cup of tea.
         Still no fame (that I know of) which is sort of good because I cleared the ol’ 27 hump with little damage.
         But in fact it’s not true. There has been plenty of damage. A junkyard full of it. I tend to fib because I have a bad memory. But here are some true concrete checkable facts. A list in fact that I keep to help me fend off memory gaps:

 


         My mom died from brain cancer two days before I turned 21. She was diagnosed a few days before her 50th birthday. To add to the coincidence, her favorite Beatle was George Harrison and it just so happens that the quiet Beatle and I share a birthday. February 25th. Too much coincidence?
         Well, completely in an unrelated way, February 25th, 1336 was the stage for a horrific and bizarre event. In Pilenai, rather than be taken captive by the invading teutonic knights, 4,000 defenders took their own lives. Before their final act, the inhabitants burned their possessions and set the castle ablaze. When the flames subsided, the knights were baffled to see the men, women, and children, suicided to death.

 

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July 25th, 2014

2 of 2

Enter Mister Maurice
William Levy

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[The below is the second part of a two-part article. To read the first half of this article go here.]

 

“Hello, Bill,” he croaked.

 

“Hello, Bill,” I echoed.

 

“Where did you get that manuscript of The Wild Boys?” he asked.

 

“From Gerrit Komrij.”

 

“Who’s that?” He cried out with exasperated incredulity.

 

“He’s Maurice Girodias’ agent in Holland.”

 

“You mean Maurice gave you permission to publish it?”

 

“Well, not exactly,” I sputtered. Even back then, Burroughs and I had known each other a long while, over a decade. We had first become acquainted in 1960 and in 1961 at the now famous, albeit then deeply shabby “Beat Hotel” on rue Git le Coeur in Paris, had seen each other in New York at his loft on Centre Street and also often in England, and he had generously given me manuscripts to publish in other magazines I edited, The Insect Trust Gazette (USA) and International Times (London).

 

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July 24th, 2014

Thrilling Fantasy, Horror, & Science-Fiction Shorts!
AD Jameson

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Alien Spores

 

Can you help me? I’ve been trying to rid this city of alien spores. I thought I’d eliminated them all, but now I see they’re back again. I must have missed a few, and they replicate so quickly! It seems no matter how many I destroy, I always find a few more the following days; they’re extraordinarily resilient. I’ve been asking others to give me a hand, stressing the threat posed by alien spores, but no one I talk to seems to think that the spores pose as big a threat as I do. But they are a real threat! If the spores get inside your nose, they go up in your brain, and then they completely warp your priorities, make you forget who you are as well as your everyday life, make you see things that aren’t really there.

 

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June 15th, 2014

MUT019

Spiny Retinas
Lina ramona Vitkauskas

5.25" X 8" | Softcover | 60 Pages | $12.00 | AVAILABLE NOW


Click to enlarge

Click to enlarge

 

SPINY RETINAS is an epic poem, or if you prefer, a narrative poem, or perhaps still if you prefer, a “hybrid text piece” that was compiled slowly over the course of six years (2006–2012). It was constructed using automatic writing technique and addresses and/or speaks to war, politics, and religion (stereotypes and cultural myths explored through use of military and theological hierarchical titles); rape culture, gender roles, and sexism; and pop culture in general. The following books, films, and/or television shows were used as reference points to create SPINY RETINAS: I Dream of Jeanie episodes, John Ashbery’s Girls on the Run, David Lynch’s Lost Highway, Jennifer Chambers Lynch’s Boxing Helena, and Richard Brautigan’s Trout Fishing in America. It was created using aleatoric method/approach and poetic language was used carelessly, unabashedly, often with such extreme force the author found herself shaking simultaneously with utter pleasure and despair. It was a freeing exercise, like running around nude in a random suburban neighborhood at 2 a.m. with a clear squirt gun or picking the first cucumber of the season or even hanging upside down on the monkey bars.


June 11th, 2014

Letter from the Editor

Elon Musk, China, and the Multiverse
Gabriel Chad Boyer

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[Our sci fi films are like ads for future Apple products and propaganda for a reductionist view of the present, in which our end is inevitable, and the toys of the rich will become prettier and prettier while the rest of us drown in our own filth. In this letter from the editor I wanted to write about this sci fi present of ours. About the figures who fill it and what functions they serve, the places we're going and the places that are taking us there, and most importantly about the one thing that is driving it all.]

 

 

I. Persons

 

There are certain persons through which fantasy is made manifest. These are people who contain our fantasy and who exist as avitars for various members of the populace who believe that this person stands for them, or represents them. Most obvious of course would be your standard everyday politician. In becoming public figures, they also become icons that can then spread in a meme-like way as two-dimensional versions of themselves in the minds of those who believe in them.

 

The most obvious example of this sort of fantasy made manifest would be Jesus, but Walt Disney also comes to mind. You can die and come back to life. Drawings can walk and talk.

 

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June 6th, 2014

1 of 2

Enter Mister Maurice
William Levy

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“Numberless are the world’s wonders,
but none more wonderful than man.”
- Sophocles, Oedipus at Colonus

 

For over half-a-century whenever authors met talk would eventually come around to the maverick Maurice Girodias, and his Olympia Press. Did you or didn’t you? Did you or didn’t you hit him for money? Did you or didn’t you hear about what he had just published? Written. Done. Amazing really. Awesome. He seemed to internationally float about on some magic carpet surrounded by a suave fog both elegant and dangerous, ecstatic and ironic. For all the writers who claimed Maurice “ripped me off” there was an equal amount that used him. For every novelist like J. P. Donleavy—who had a justifiable vendettic rage against Maurice and spent an enormous amount of time and energy pursuing it, finally buying back the rights to The Ginger Man at public auction—there were versifiers like Christopher Logue. Plagiarist or premature post-modern deconstructionalist? According to a rare bookseller’s catalog, Count Palmiro Vicarion’s Book of Limericks was “in fact, almost entirely lifted by Logue from G. Legman’s then recent The Limerick, from a copy borrowed and not even bought.”

 

In the 1950s, almost everything one wanted to read was published in Paris by Maurice. And banned. Lawrence Durrell, Samuel Beckett, Jean Genet, “Pauline Reage &/or Dominique Aury” aka Anne Desclos’ Story of O, Marquis de Sade, Jean Cocteau, Vladimir Nabokov, Chester Himes, Alexander Trocchi, Terry Southern, “Akbar del Piombo” aka Norman Rubington, “Harriet Daimler” aka Iris Owens, Nikos Zorba the Greek Kazantzakis, “Wu Wu Meng” aka Sinclair Beiles’ only novel Houses of Joy, Gregory Corso’s only novel The American Express, Philip O’Connor’s Steiner’s Tour, Raymond Zazie dans Le Metro Queneau and Georges Bataille to name just a few. American graduate students earned their tuition by renting out reading copies to undergraduates of the books published by Olympia Press. So when I arrived on the Left Bank during the summer of 1960, having reached the age of my majority, the first thing I did, like so many others of my generation in search of meaning, was head for the bookstalls on the quays along the Seine to buy my Traveller’s Companions, green-covered copies of Henry Miller’s Tropics and William Burroughs’ dust-jacketed The Naked Lunch. I never expected Maurice and I would have our short season together. That was almost a decade later… [For more on this, see Issue 4 of the Exquisite Corpse.]

 

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October 30th, 2013

A Mutable Sounds Review

Radio masquerading as dust
Gabriel Chad Boyer

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Within the first ten seconds of Bode Radio’s Dust Bowl Masquerade the album defines itself as a jarring fusion of the exotic and the deranged. In the following twenty seconds you find yourself really enjoying yourself. Then the rug falls out from under you, and it continues to fall out from under you, and over you, and around you, until you are seeing sound in a very different very unsettling way. Dust Bowl Masquerade is both a frenetic piece of cut-up electronica as well as a very groove-oriented album from start to finish. I’d like to say it’s what it would sound like if The Books and Aphex Twin had a baby, but this baby belongs in a species all its own.

 

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