Sunday, September 30, 2012

Hanetration – Torn Heat EP 7.5

                Torn Heat EP’ is an apt name. Hanetration takes an emotional approach with these four short pieces. At times they positively ache with longing. Much of this appears to be broken fragments of a religious service. It is brooding. Organ sounds wheeze through. They always wheeze. Nothing is easy for these pieces. Rather they appear to be weighed down by an unknown force. With this difficultly they obtain a sense of true tragedy. 

                ‘Jurassic’ begins with an elegant warble of an organ melody. A simple beat keeps it going as the organ is crushed through a variety of distortion pedals. No matter how distorted it gets the sense of sadness is still there. It is an incredibly depressed piece. The melody shines through and is noble in its efforts to be fully recognized. The best piece, the winner of the entire album is the pure calm of ‘Sixth’. Hanetration takes its time on ‘Sixth’. With microscopic details added it manages to be absolutely beautiful in its clear emotional devastation. Notes linger on for slightly longer than what would be necessary. Extra time helps with the emotional impact of the song. A few times as it begins to get excited it comes down to a quiet reality. Classical in quality, it is the sound of an organ player playing softly after the congregation has left. 

                From their previous album to this one, Hanetration has completely changed their approach. Here they combine their experimental inclinations with a strong emotional component. This results in a tragic beauty of an album.

Hipster Jesus Unicorn

                I was born a hipster Jesus Unicorn. That’s why I’m so fanatically in support of this young, hustling publication. Many have waited with baited breath for the second installment. Originally many weeks ago it kept on being pushed back. A few (myself) called this the ‘Tomboy of Alt Lit magazines’. Without any independent verification it was unclear when it would be release. Then, one lazy Friday afternoon, there it was, in all its glory. 

                Murdoch Lamarche offers a rare glimpse into his late-night life sponsored by AT&T. 2 AM is the late afternoon for alt lit. Go online at that time to witness various ‘liking’ and ‘@-ing’ fests. Carnegie children have it made. There are many things we can do to improve the world. Entertainment usually gets in the way of self-improvement. Art is just too captivating. 

                Kellie Hogan has a thing for Louis Stevens. Chic-fil-A pays her good money for making ice. Making a superior milkshake to bring all the boys to her yard is a side-gig. Politics and religions play an important part in chicken business. Wish I knew more but I have never eaten at Chic-fil-A because I generally avoid fast food. Vicki and Jasmine intersect Kellie’s life. Or maybe they are parallel. It is hard to tell. I’m bad at math. 

                Daniel Alexander wants to get a college degree for non-existent majors. Since none of these fantastic majors are offered he’ll probably go for liberal arts majors. Look at the rooftops. Think about all the people beneath those structures. You’ll never meet any of them but from far away they look so interesting. 

                Michael Andrew begins it tastefully. This view depends on how consuming one’s ‘special regions’ fills. According to Michael she feels alone despite the level of attention. Scent of spring and a dial tone sounds like a pretty spiffy house to me. 

                Tyler Langlois keeps a bookmark on his browser for old times’ sake. I do that too. Facebook pages are off limits to me now. Wish I could see how my old friends are doing but I’m a different person now and they are not. Hugging for 48 consecutive hours is love. That’s what love is. Others think it involves the exchange of money or something. As someone who never has money, I know that’s a bunch of malarkey. Fall kills poor leaves. Wish the leaves could be in a constant state of decay, just like people. But such a thing is impossible. 

                Chase Kersey understands the Earth and Sun will be one. They can flirt for only so long. From afar they watch each other, wanting to be together. Yet space forces them to keep their distance. A giant explosion of love will come from the sun, engulfing our silly little planet. 

                 Austin Islam attends a wedding. Wild turkey is a crazy-ass turkey. Hope Austin didn’t get too messed up by the turkey. Home is where the heart is but I don’t know where my heart is anymore. Somebody probably has it and forgot to return it.

                Winky Luftlecker built an orgasm machine. Think this is usually called ‘internet porn’. $320 sounds a bit steep for such a device. Joy shouldn’t cost a thing. It is better when it is simple, uncomplicated. At least Winky experienced a contentment I’ve never felt. I have yet to pet a guinea pig. 

                Joe Bussiere takes a hostile view of theology. The internet is a new religion. Nobody gets hurt from the internet. Rather it serves as an outlet from some of the harsher experiences of real life: work, careers, ambitions, is laid to rest before one enters the internet. How to internet is one of the most important skills in today fast-growing social-media-o-sphere. 

                Marty McAndrews writes a sad tale. Missing others is what makes us human. We need people to show us the way, to validate our own existence. Hermits are becoming less and less of a thing. By now though most hermits probably live in a city where they never have to engage with others on a regular basis. I feel cities are where I always feel alone. Yet this is probably a city’s largest draw for me. 

                Moon Tzu stands in the back in a sad party. What does pretentious even mean? I feel that accusation tends to be ill-informed. Why aren’t sports fans ever called pretentious? Pretentious seems to be associated with traditional ‘high-end’ cultural aspects of literature, music, and television. I want to call sports fans pretentious. For the finale he has three haikus about the cycles of life. 

                Pamilton Sky sees some messed up streetlights. The only things that sharpen teeth should be wholesome, not the light. Life is a puzzle. We are pieces. It is a work in progress always unfinished. After we pass away our problems become other people’s problems. It is the cycle of scheduled payments, of loans, debt, events, showcases, etc. At the ending she has maggots in her teeth and gets applause for it. This is why I’m not a performer. 

                Moon Temple is hella sad. That is okay. Everybody gets sad. Without sadness we would never have gladness. Keep your hair in your head if possible. Wish I wasn’t bald. I miss my hair. People with hair have it made. 

                It has been many weeks but they are back. Prepare yourself for the second coming of Hipster Jesus Unicorn.

6pm Interview with Buttercup and LK

                Happy to see Buttercup and LK have developed more normal G-chat schedules. Their last interview took place at 2AM in the morning. Buttercup and LK need to be well rested for their work. Sleep is important. Believe me I’m a sloth. 6PM is a more than reasonable time to G-chat with friends. Right after that ‘Happy Hour’ nonsense, before any night work can begin. Over the spring 6PM can be the ‘Golden Hour’ the best hour of the day where everything is in a golden hue and the day feels like it is cresting.

                LK gives a shout-out to Murdoch and I. She must know Murdoch and I watch over their output on a regular basis. While I can’t speak for Murdoch, let me give a shout-out to LK in the form of a review on my blog, this very review. Panic attacks poor LK. Panic needs to leave LK alone. Doesn’t panic know anything about alt lit? That is disrespectful to attack wholesome Canadian-Englishwoman LK. At least LK gets work done in the meantime, writing a 2000 word piece on a bus trip. Bus trips are when I take a break from writing and simply relax. I like seeing the country pass me by, country I probably will never engage with on any meaningful level. 

                Buttercup sits next to a business bro on the Boltbus. I’ve been there before. How do business people end up on a bus? I get how I end up on a bus, I get it, I’m poor, I mostly eat cans of beans heated on the old campfire. Those business people are supposed to have it figured out; business people should ride Amtrak and let me have the precious extra seat to store my junk. Feel it is bullshit that I have to share a bus with people who are allegedly better at life than they are. Whatever, Buttercup writes, LK writes, I write. Creation is better than cursing about business deals on a $13 bus ride. 

                Prolific periods happen in many writers’ lives. Buttercup and LK go over their prolific time over the summer. I remember it fondly; reviews came out every day of the darn week about them. Of course I was the writer of those reviews, but still, it was absurd. I’m happy to hear both of them are working on longer term projects. Buttercup has a novella, LK, not to be outdone, is working on an alt lit dictionary. Expect a musical collaboration between the two of them at some point in the not-so-far-away future. Is there more to expect? Will an alt lit wedding happen between LK and Buttercup? If they marry will they buy a house in the countryside, with forests surrounding it? In the likely case that happens I simply request a tree to hang upside down off of and sleep. 

                It ends with LK watching Steve laugh. Laughter is a good way to end anything.

As Adam by Michael O’Brien

                Michael O’Brien wants these poems to be read aloud. Try to avoid the temptation. You will fail. The word choice makes it enjoyable. Going through each poem is a sheer joy. Feeling the rhythm and flow of the work, in terms of sound, in terms of theme, and in terms of time is beautiful. Somehow Michael captures how an average mind thinks. Repetition is a particularly nice touch as it provides a sense of gradual steady evolution.  

                Brutes of the mystical persuasion try to ruin it for everyone. Soul is not separate from body. Without soul what motivates us? This beginning has spirituality though it does not overwhelm. It informs the reader to croon with Michael. As Michael is blessed with a particularly fine voice this is not necessary. One only needs to listen to him. 

                Nights play all sorts of melodies. Late at night you hear the songs night, pulsing techno, random shouts, and trains from far away. They remind you that you are not alone. People are there to love you. Hearts can beat in time but it takes two (on average, your experience may vary). Work creates this cycle of cherish and care. Cities tear people away. Indeed living in the city is the simultaneously most together and lonely one can be. Villages and towns at least care. For cities such attention to detail is impossible. 

                ‘Tongues of my father’ sounds like a particularly intense form of biography. Bread from a mom, yeah that is adored. Moms make the best bread. You can use a microwave that is an accomplishment. Cooking takes skill and time, things now in scant supply. Stretching miles is good. Seeing the empty space of the countryside may be one of the most underrated things to do in life. After being in the city for so long the space becomes more appreciated and cherished. Herald the trumpets for their return to society. 

                Beards make the man. Literally kids can’t grow them. Many men can’t grow them either. Only a select few can grow the ‘I’ve been living in a cabin out in the woods for the past several months eating blueberries and moss. Love me’. Those types of people are easy to love and give great hugs to those around them. Embrace them today. 

A sense of a living, breathing creature dwelling within these lines is evident. Love emanates from the words. And the reader should feel the love all around.

Thursday, September 27, 2012


                Never before, in the history of my blogging sloth life have I needed a Spreecast like this one. Life can be a challenge. I’m a slow sloth. I can barely keep up with this fast-paced human world. All these things keep on rushing past. While I crawl I think ‘Why bother? I could take a nap instead’. Yet I continue onward towards a bigger and bloggier future. Seeing Steve Roggenbuck scream in front of a laptop for hours at a time makes me believe in humanity. Steve is one of the freest people on the planet. Out of all my friends, IRL, online, whatever, Steve appears to have figured out exactly what he enjoys doing with his life. I feel if Siddhartha met Steve Roggenbuck early in life he could have saved himself a whole heap of trouble.

                Tom Melton, Cole, Amy Saul-Zerby and I were the first five in the Spreecast. We refer to ourselves as ‘Steve heads’. For we keep tabs on the trials and tribulations of the young bucking Roggenbuck. If I had the money and the time I’d probably follow Steve around the country. My review section would include bus trip reviews on a 0.0 to 10.0 scale. Of course bus trips depend on the album I’m listening to, how much seat I get, the amount of leg room, and whether or not I bring a ‘Trail Mix’. A single trail mix can turn a bad bus ride into a glad bus ride. That’s how I get around this great big Eastern Corridor. My other transportation is a laptop. I rely on that for now. 

                Jacked up plans are in the works. Steve states his hopes and dreams are going to come true. Get Goth sponsors the event. The chatroom hears the plan that is going to change the world. Cole states ‘sounds like Timothy Leary’s place minus LSD’. An idea for an ‘Alt Lit House’ may happen. Is this the happiest thing I’ve heard all week? I think it is. Here Steve goes into detail about how such a thing may work. Creativity is one of the best things you can have in life. Being creative is what makes me who I am. Such a house can help encourage me. Is it time for alt lit to get a commune? I think so. Perhaps it is time to finally be surrounded by alt lit instead of reviewing them from afar. 

                Laura Broadbent has a book coming out on Snare books called ‘Oh There You Are I Can’t See You Is It Raining?’ I like her reading voice. The MC of the event explains this is her first public reading. For the occasion she busts out the book learning. 

                Alex Manley follows. Several call him the ‘Rap Game Robert Frost’. Here he goes into the backlash of those hockey fans. Here he describes the ‘six year old please fuck me eyes’. From here he explains the idea of a ‘blowjob’. Alex explains every possible crevice of the blowjob. He uses his mouth to do this, through delivering words. 

                Ali Pinkey reads poetry. Her content follows after Alex’s quite nicely. I like how her voice quivers at the right place. Each time she says ‘o’ is amazing. The way it sounds rounded is particularly fine. Clearly Ali’s work embodied the general ‘GOTH’ theme of the evening. Slippery ends her set. 

                Ashley Oppenheim is loved like a rainbow by Guillaume. The chatroom gets a shout-out from Ashley. I think she is extremely good of her as she probably knows she’ll end up on a blog someday for her online support. ‘You are so special’ begins her reading. Global organisms can be a thing. For her reading she kneels because she worships the audience. ‘Every breath I take I’m like whoa this is crazy’ is a surprisingly funny line. 

                Guillaume Morissette introduces a piece from his new book. ‘New Tab’ is the name. When is it coming out? Nobody knows. This is a going to be a novel. Here it happens to be quite funny. Delivery-wise Guillaume is pretty good, he has a delivery that is all his own. Montreal gets a rare sneak peak at this highly anticipated as fuck book. 

                Steve Roggenbuck rises up. ‘Get Goth’ becomes a chant. *SPOILER ALERT* Apparently Steve does NOT have a dog. That’s crazy.. Dogs dislike Tao Lin’s work. How unfortunate. ‘All I do is post on the internet and sleep’ is brought out for the Montreal audience. Expect to see Steve in your dreams. Steve currently uses a hashtag on twitter about how hot he is. What makes it exciting is that this poem starts the same way and then becomes a different, almost conversational thing. Two new poems are introduced to the audience. First one is when he gets lost. The other one is when you are 60. 

                It ends like all readings end with the hugging of a fluffy dinosaur. That’s Canada for you: all about the dinosaurs, flower Goth girls, and assorted Canadians. Yep it is a beautiful country. Hope someday I can visit America’s northern Ned Flanders.