85.9 :: ‘go to work…’ by noah cicero
'Go to work and do your job. Care for your children. Pay your bills. Obey the law. Buy products' by Noah Cicero // lazy fascist press, 2k14
review by max bowen
This is the first Noah Cicero book I have read
Reading it made me excited to go back and read his other books, partially because of his influence upon authors I like, and partially because this book is much more speculative than other alt-lit I’ve read (((ED NOTE: THIS PRESUPPOSSESSES THAT NOAH CISERO IS ALT LIT____)))
There was a race of giants so tall that their heads pushed through the clouds & into heaven. Lots of people were offended by this, so all the kings of the 17,569,408 kingdoms of heaven & earth decided to pass a law. The law made it illegal for the giants to pass their heads through clouds. The giants said, “you’ve just made it illegal to be giants.” And all the kings and gross ruler people said, “no we just made it illegal for you to defile heaven with your gross heads.” so the rulers came up with a compromise: they would pay for the giants to have their heads removed. The giants said, “I think that’s a actually a really bad idea.” But the kings and gross ruler people didn’t care because they were dicks, and they cut off all the giant’s heads anyway. There aren’t any more giants anymore because giants need their heads to live. All the kings and gross ruler people are dead now too because they choked on a bag of dicks.
IMPORTANT RECAP OF ALL THINGS RECENT & GUILLAUME MORISSETTE
an excerpt from new tab at maisonneuve
the year of reading women at the vehicule press blog
which type of vague relationship are you in? at the fanzine
a conversation between two editors at the vehicule press blog
i often think about this thing guillaume said in an interview in 2012, around the time when he was writing new tab:
'what I want the most is to destroy myself for literature. that probably sounds heavy or insane or melodramatic, but what I mean by that is that my life is stupid, like I seriously can’t see myself having babies and getting married and finding solace and meaning in my daily whatever. what I want is to use literature as a kind of death drive, give a shape to my shit-talking, my inner monologue, neuroses, failures, shortcomings, feelings, contradictions, life experiences both good and bad, etc, and use all of those without thinking things like, ‘what will people think of me.’ I kind of want to make fun of myself in a way that’s reckless and borderline irresponsible, but also entertaining/pleasurable for a person to pick up and read.'