WORLD WIDE DIRT READING SERIES

Hey guys! It's been a minute. the internet is down at our house...which isnt really an excuse for anything because i'm on the computer all day.

Anyhoo, we are starting a new thing over at WWD. WWD contributors will be recording stories and putting them on our brand new Bandcamp site. Pretty Nifty!!!

The first one is up right now it's a story wrote and read (awkward) by none other than WWD co-founder Sean Williamson. Let the party begin.

WORLD WIDE DIRT BANDCAMP

While you're at it check out a Film that Sean was a Producer on called Modus Operandi And check out the director Frankie Latina's webpage.

Much Love,
WWD

its the truth

and honestly, if anyone would wind it back to last week. How bout a month before that? that'd be ok. At least then i could be prepared to know that everything was not fundamentally fine.

The Autumn Man

It's cool out here.  Some dedicated girls are still wearing little shorts.  Some people still have tans.  I just bought two jackets and I put on a sweatshirt for the first time in about six months.  Almost everyone else has new jackets too.  The fruit flies in my house are off-putting but soon they will be dead.  They have sex when they are one day old.  I see some people less because they go to school and I am continuing in a straight line.  The summer was so long it felt that we were parallel but we were tangent.  Either they are in a loop or I am.

One of our wars are over and many people have not noticed.  I wonder what that means.  What do the soldiers do when they get home?  I sold a guy a copy of In Our Time by Ernest Hemmingway.  He had very short hair and I wondered if he was a returning soldier and I didn't tell him that was a bad choice to read if you are a returning soldier.  I don't have much else to say about wars or soldiers.

I'm going to smoke one cigarette a week on Wednesday nights.

Jerrod Johnson is having a poetry reading tomorrow at Iron Stone Cafe on Wisconsin and Broadway.  If the last one was any indication of this one, it will be smashing.  Please go.  Bye everyone.

In the bellows

Busted down onto the bridge and I imagined the plank between my side of the Miller Valley and the other starting to crumble and give way. I pedal harder and skim over the falling cement like a dragon fly. I take the bike I bought from a poor friend and ride its orange body with my half mullet. The valley hisses and the factory valves scream.

Ai, Aih, Aigh

if it were a matter of control,
it'd be different than this.
it would be a lot
for many different reasons.
but the pool stand,
rideout cool hand,
pillars of knock outs
dandy gone milestones,
and all reflections,
walking with mirrors
feel old,
feel tired.
reason enough to act
as though,
its working
when its not.

That Was Fun

For everyone who came to the show last Tuesday, may God's blessings be upon you.  Everyone seems to have had fun.  Some people heard some things they liked, others made some friends, some ate some oatmeal chocolate cookies, and some got Jon Hammed.  I can't say enough good things about all my super sexy writers and it was very cool that they all came knowing they had only a chance of getting to read.

For everyone who didn't go, too bad, so sad.  But here's a little taste of the event.  Something I wrote for my introduction to the whole shindig, to introduce the theme of adventure:

When it was 9 o'clock he knocked off from his shift.  He was tired but he wanted to do something.  He called his friend but he didn't pick up.  He drove to a greasy spoon diner ha had thought about going to for years.  He was thinking about a slice of pie & a glass of milk.  When he got there the lights were on, but there was no one inside and no silverware on the tables.  He noticed a rental agency's sign in the window.  It was gone for good.  He went to a bar to have some fun.  The bartender was too busy to talk.  No one there bothered him.  He drank one drink alone.  He drove home & he ate crackers out of a box.  He noticed a missed call from his friend.  He returned the call & again he didn't pick up.  He watched some of a movie.  He fell asleep.

P.S. - I just looked up the word origin for "shindig."  According to Merriam-Webster, it comes from the british word "shindy" (a fracas or uproar) which in turn comes from "shinny,"a version of hockey from the 17th century in which the players cried, "shin ye."  This makes very little sense.

P.S.S - If you want a book with all 15 original episodes in Pick Your Poison, our Choose-Yar-Oon-Adventure story (working on a way to advertise this without getting sued by Bantam Books), email us at worldwidedirt@gmail.com and we shall work something out.

Psssst - Also, yesterday Sean and I both attended, and read at, Jerrod Johnson's Lone Wolf poetry reading at Iron Stone Cafe.  It was a really elegant show with a lot of different voices going on and I think everyone there had a great time and no one got Jon Hammed.

That's all folks.  Take her easy.