“Laugh only when something is funny. When something is funny, remember to look someone in the eye because you liked what they just said. You want them to know.”—Richard Chiem | How to Survive A Car Accident (via sarahjeanalex)
I am sitting in front of my laptop in my room in the pitch black after a long ass Monday.
where do you think the urge to write things down comes from, for you? when did you start writing?
The urge to write for me started early. I didn’t start speaking until after I was five, so until then I had to communicate through either sign or writing. I always kept a journal, even when I was young, as a way to keep everything happening around me in perspective. It’s stuck with me till this day, and I couldn’t be more thrilled about what’s to come.
what do your irl friends and family think about your writing? on your tumblr, you mention that for a long time you wrote in a notebook and it was more of a private thing. what made you decide to start sharing your writing?
My irl friends were actually the ones that encouraged me to share my writing. I had always kept it private and in a notebook for a while because then it was more about personal matters than just about life. Now I feel nothing is really out of bounds with my writing because I’ve grown a lot in the past couple of years, and I think you can see that in the difference of tone and emotion between my work from a year ago and now. My family is divided. My dad thinks it’s just me ripping on him in a witty way and could give two shits. My mother is pretty supportive and finds some comfort in what I write herself, and that is one of the biggest gifts I’ve gotten from sharing my writing with others.
how much time do you spend online? what kind of influence do you think the internet has had on your writing?
The internet has had a huge influence on my writing. I moved to Troy, New York from the Bronx at 10 and it kind of went from me feeling completely unstoppable to locked in a mostly conservative, religious suburban cage. My dad kept me pretty sheltered and made sure I never had chances to sneak out and do dumb shit. So the only way I could interact with most people was through social media (facebook, twitter, etc.). I grew up in a pretty tech-savy household, with home theater systems and custom built laptops and PCs. I’ve always found a home on the internet because it’s the only way I can truly be heard sometimes, and that can be a blessing and a curse. It’s all about the balance of investment and what you use it for. I’m using it to spread my message and help others through selflessness. What’s an easier way than the world wide web, right?
who are some writers that have meant a lot to you?
Langston Hughes was the first poet/writer I was formally introduced to in my education. His writing always had a unique flow and structure to me, like he truly cared about the placement of each word and stanza. I try and emulate that in my writing and what I put into it. I feel it’s genuine and means just as much to the writer as it does to the reader. A songwriter of mine that has had a huge influence on me is Kele Okereke of Bloc Party. Silent Alarm will always be my favorite album. It was the first I ever bought and listened to on the regular in 5th grade. The crazy part about it is his lyricism means more to me now that I’m older than it did back then, and that’s something not a lot of artists I listen to are able to provide me with. It’s timeless.
are you working on any projects right now?
I recently finished up a chapbook called “A Loss and Gain of Comfort” in June. I knew my life was on the upswing at that point, so I wanted to give my earlier work a proper piece you know? I’ve been sending it round a bit, but whether it gets published or not I could care less. Of the few people I’ve shared it with, most have said it’s a pretty emotional piece. I had a pretty rough breakup my freshman year of college. I became a bitter mess, and I had to rebuild myself again. So that’s why I called it what I did. I lost my old comfort zone, but I made a new one all my own. I also wrote a short story about my high school experience called “Lowly High.” I thought about maybe making it into a longer work, but when I went on vacation in Pittsburgh I ended up just hanging out, getting faded, and not writing. I have no regrets though, I met a writer out there on a whim and I’m fortunate I did because the passion she puts into her writing makes me more motivated to grow as a writer.
name a song that you really identify with, at this point in your life
A song that identifies with my life? Ugh, I listen to so many genres. I guess the song that’s been relating to me the most is “True Love” by Friendly Fires. I’m done with all the games and the parties and the bullshit most of my peers can’t seem to let go of yet. I just want someone to feel the same way I do about what’s happening around us. About how the world is at a loss for words as to how it can save itself, both in terms of the environment and society. That’s the kind of love I want. Not the easy score, but the hand to hold. The personality to bounce ideas off of and become a better person from. I just wanna be somewhere where I can feel that way, and I know my writing puts me one step closer to that inner peace I need to accomplish that.
I can’t have inebriated people hug me anymore I feel all their emotions Everything they are trying to hide Comes out of their aura Into my nervous system and it shakes me It fucking cripples me emotionally so bad I can’t callously hook up and forget It’s unfair every time And I can’t live with it The selfish nature of taking what you what And leaving it like a stray I’d rather hold someone than pass through them Just like their sadness that passes through my spine
he is making rachel ‘promise’ that if she sells IAAL for $1million dollars or ‘something’ to an established media company looking for ‘authentic street cred’ that she must give joshspilker part of the ‘profits’
I said, welcome to my life You know some people like history Or want to make history But I am history If you would have fucked me I would have been OK being Plath But instead I’m Sexton If somebody asks me what I like It’s not food or sex It’s looking at things and being in love
roommates of beauties have too much time to read and keep tidy they mull over the problems of their roommate and wait all day for the cable company
the roommates are slight or bloated their charisma is kept under clothing they sympathize and talk effortlessly with the date while the beauty takes too long in the shower marveling at the coveted play-land of the body
lovers wander mistakenly into the room of the roommate whose eyes flitter in the lamp-light welcoming the lovers excusing their embarrassment charming them while beauty sulks in the next room
the lovers are confused by the roommates surrounded by movie posters and the reject couches of relatives lovers stall in the bathroom looking through the medicine cabinet of the roommates in the waiting rooms of therapists lovers see two figures tied to a lease one’s face proves the lord is an artist and not a boss with a hobby the other is pure like a plant and forgives you
“Matt took off his boxer briefs and looked at his stomach in the mirror. He turned and looked at his buttocks. He looked at his back and scratched at the blemish. He watched dead skin collect around the blemish. He swept away the dead skin with his finger. He faced the mirror and thought, “You’re here. Just have fun.””—excerpt of Matt Meets Vik by Timothy Willis Sanders (via muumuuhouse)
You have to be always drunk. That’s all there is to it—it’s the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk.
But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk.
And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again, drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is singing, everything that is speaking…ask what time it is and wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: “It is time to be drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish.
_ Charles Baudelaire (translated by Louis Simpson)