Hands down it's the one at Bennington College, if only because of the icons of corruption who congregate among the faculty there-- literary criminals like Liam Rector, Rick Moody, and Tom Bissell-- along with cronyistic Sven Birkerts apologists for their misbehavior.
Bennington unwittingly was the spark behind the ULA's creation, back in the summer of 1995 when my New Philistine exposing lit-world corruption was publicly destroyed by professor (and Associated Writing Programs biggie) Liam Rector in front of many of the most distinguished writers, editors, and lit critics in America, who sat back and said NOTHING. (Several did inform me about it afterward.) After all, who was I? A lone writer-- a nobody. The thinking was, no doubt, that I'd never be heard from again.
Ten years later the same nest of cockroaches infests the Bennington campus, with scummy additions (Bissell)-- but I'm no longer fighting alone, am part of a movement of writers and commentators within and without the Underground Literary Alliance determined to "clean house" and make the structure of literature once again habitable. Throwing the spotlight on the bugs at Bennington will be a necessary step in the cleansing process.
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42 comments:
Thanks for the comment. I take parody of the ULA-- even when done by a coward-- as a compliment.
By the way, interesting to see Natalie Chica mentioning your pseudo-ULA blog, establishing a connection between her and yourself. Can we now draw a connection between Galleycat, you, and the racist fake-ULA sites, and racist comments on this blog, that we've contended with in recent weeks?
Revelations of the real nature and mentality of the ULA's opponents?
Dude, you can connect it all up to the Trilateral Commission and the evil robot babies of the Council on Foreing Relations for all anybody cares.
By all means you should take it for a compliment, if you absolutely have to, which we all just bet you do.
Remember, they aren't laughing at you as a pathetic loser. They are in AWE of you. Yeah, that's it!
When Wenclas lost his testicle
Wait a second--the ULA was born of a personal, ego-damaging slight to Wenclas?!!! And all the bullshit philosophizing, the vile slander, the uninformed and hurtful attacks against people you don't know, the Stalinist diatribes, the extolling of patently crappy writing and near psychopaths come from this sad seminal moment when your self-pitying bullshit was called out in front of a bunch of writers. Was this your version of that apocryphal story about Hitler's ball being ripped from his scrotum?
Where, oh where will my tattered ideals find a home now?
In Orlando Hotpockets's pockets, I guess.
Wow! Look at you, using a word like "practico-inert." Sounds like folks thinking you actually know what it means.
Of course, it isn't an adjective, as your usage implies. Sartre coined the term "the practico-inert," which could apply just as well to a piece of crap like this blog as it does to the demopublicrats
In short, you aren't fooling just everybody.
??? The destruction of #28 of my newsletter was hardly ego-damaging. In a way it was heartening-- it confirmed that people like Liam Rector were frauds (I'd contacted him by letter with questions about his actions before doing that issue), and it surprised me to think that my modest newsletter was worth all the outrage. (The issue exposed the incestuous relationship between the NEA and AWP when it came to the granting of awards. Among other things.)
It surely wasn't THE cause of the ULA, but one motivating factor among many.
Is corruption worth fighting?
Or do we all just stand aside?
One thing for certain is that the ULA is going to win this debate.
First, using our own identities gives us greater moral authority than those on the other side-- who I think realize their own spinelessness.
Second, the arguments and evidence we give are true. People have been scamming the lit-system for years. PART of what we're doing is to expose this-- which can't be justified. (Even Moody in his recent essay didn't attempt to justify his own Guggenheim.)
ALSO, though, the ULA is about building a positive, democratic (small d) alternative to the mainstream. At this we're making great strides. The ULA will keep growing and raising its profile-- and that's what really bothers people.
(p.s. We're used to parodies. Zeenster D.B. Pedlar parodied the ULA often severalyears ago-- his were much funnier, and pointed, than what we've been seeing. But then, demi-puppets aren't really much good at anything. As I've said before, even as
ass-kissers to the establishment they're failures.)
The very, very unfortunate part of your argument, assface, is that great writers have behaved badly and corruptly since forever. Fitzgerald? A souse and a backstabber and -slapper and overpaid to boot. Hemingway scammed his way through high society. Joyce was a leech. You can go on and on. (Even your Shakespeare was on dicey moral ground by ULA standards.) No one is suprised by this--that's why no one cares about your stupid crusade to get your other testicle back. All that matters is the work, the writing, The life, the "stand" you take, the ethics . . . sorry, assface King, none of that really matters in the end. It's nice to know that Nabokov was a kind man, but does that make Lolita better? Or that James Wood is a nice man. But does it make his negative reviews less meaningful? Or that you, say, care about corruption in a bunch of arts organizations and writing programs. It's fine, but it doesn't make your work good (for nothing good) and it doesn't mean you're "winning" (for what would that mean, the ULA winning: backs against the wall?), and it doesn't mean people are afraid of you. It means that at a certain point ridiculous assfaces with delusions of pathetic grandeur need to be confronted and ridiculed. So KEEP GOING, King. You're ON THE RIGHT SIDE, just like Lillian Hellman or Lindbergh. But your lack of thought, your reactionary writing, your basic total idealessness . . . that's why you're going to wind up in history's shitter. Your work is a diarrhea stain on the chair of life. We're tired of smelling it. Back into the anus with you!
Let's bet: Two years from now. You'll still be saying the same stupid shit, and everything will be exactly the same. And all that will still matter will be the work. Which you still won't read. But which you'll still dismiss. Any takers? Orlando? Zeke?
King asked earlier why the fig newtons and saffron iv’s refuse to respond to his diatribes.
But he knows the answer as we all do. Did Khruschev or Brezhnev debate Solzhenitsyn? Negativo, oh my brothers, they sent the mother packing.
And the analogy is appropriate, for Solzhenitsyn, like King, was a simple truth-teller, exposing the lies with which the Soviets earned their daily bread. Every intelligent Soviet citizen knew the lies on which the system was built, but they, unlike Sasha, tried to manipulate the system for their own ends, to get their piece.
For this reason, of course, Solzhenitsyn was regarded as mad by the Establishment, and still is by most Soviets.
Here is something from Hank, which he wrote a long time ago. Observe how simple the language, how strong the message.
What did our Brother Saul make of this, this raw, crude American tongue. Well I do suspect that he turned away. But of course now we are comparing greatness with talent, fire with smoke.
And of course you don’t have to fucking ask me what remains.
It is customary to blame everything on the war. I say the war had nothing to do with me, with my life. At a time when others were getting themselves comfortable berths I was taking one miserable job after another, and never enough in it to keep body and soul together. Almost as quickly as I was hired I was fired. I had plenty of intelligence but I inspired distrust. Whereever I went I fomented discord - not because I was idealistic but because I was like a searchlight exposing the stupidity and futility of everything. Besides, I wasn't a good ass-licker. That marked me, no doubt. People could tell at once when I asked for a job that I really didn't give a damn whether I got it or not. And of course I generally didn't get it. But after a time the mere looking for a job became an activity, a pastime, so to speak. I would go in and ask for most anything. It was a way of killing time - now worse, as far as I could see, than work itself. I was my own boss and I had my own hours, but unlike other bosses I entrained only my own ruin, my own bankruptcy. I was not a corporation or a trust or a state or a federation or a polity of nations - I was more like God, if anything.
I have a question.
Orlando, what is the best type of toilet paper on which to write? And do you have a ritual you go through before you turn your own arteries into an inkwell for your art?
In two years the ULA will be much larger, making more noise than we do now. I hope this realization sinks in to people. We've never STOPPED growing, because our message is sound.
We criticize the lit-establishment because we're competing against it. It's necessary to point out its flaws.
One thing to keep in mind throughout this discussion is that recent established literature has FAILED. It no longer engages the public. The writers the demi-puppets laud fail to connect with ordinary readers-- and are clueless as to how to create new ones.
Read established writers? I already have! I see nothing there.
The ULA's ultimate audience isn't the demi-puppets we have so upset. That goes without saying. Their way of viewing writing, and ours, are very different.
As to whether we'll engage the general public, that remains to be seen. That's our bet. Everything we're doing is part of an intentional plan. First step was to gain a position on the chessboard-- which we have; from which we can't be expelled. We're increasing our leverage, slowly but inexorably. I'll be putting a post up soon about ULA membership-- we could grow much faster, but have to keep our growth manageable.
While the ULA's progress hasn't always been as fast as I'd hoped, in the last few months we've picked things up, chiefly through adding new people with greater "skills" at organization than we've had. (Pat Simonelli in particular has made us internally more efficient.) Our first priority is to grow and strengthen the ULA itself. From this, everything else follows. We'll be adding more enthusiastic undergrounders as quickly as possible. We've built momentum-- positive inertia-- and at this point are unstoppable. All attacks we absorb and feed on.
There isn't a lit group in North America, if anywhere, with our dynamism.
I'm glad you've got an "intentional plan." With writing like that, how can you fail?
If only serious writers had any reason to pay attention to you, let alone join!
Instead, anybody with real talent will take one look and say, "Hey, it appears that there is this place called Loserville, and this Wenclas guy is mayor. How interesting. Now I am going to back away and hope they do not notice or follow me."
That is true now. And in two years....
"There isn't a lit group in North America, if anywhere, with our dynamism."
I dunno. I think the Bishop Retirement Castle Ladies Book Club out of Des Moines, IA, is far more dynamic than you.
The ULA is growing! So are the Mormons. That doesn't change the fact that no one gets their own planet when they die.
I'd love to feel the heat of Orlando's pockets.
Aw, King. We all love ya. Where'd our pathetic demi-puppet lives be without you? I know that every time I feel bad about kissing someone's ass, or horribly corrupting some contest, or drinking a cognac while politely fondling an underclass child, I can read your site, and realize how much worse I can have it. I could be King Wenclas!
Sal
You know what really sucks about Bennington?
I'm a student right now at Bennington College's writers program and living in the dorms, which sucks. For some reason I got stuck in the worst dorm at campus, they were built in 1952 or something around there. Anyway they have these community bathrooms which I cant stand. There are five stalls for pooping all next to eajother in a little poop row. I hate this cause my poop is usually pretty musical and embarissing so I don't like it when other people are in one of the other stalls. Sometimes ill even wait in the stall for the other person to leave then go at it.
As the story goes though, it was a Friday night and all day I had been eating pizza and other junk food like that. My intestines weren't happy at all, they were waiting for the perfect moment to blow up.
So I'm all dressed to impress in Polo and smelling nice and what not, when it happens. I'm talking to a girl from the 3rd floor of my dorm whom Ive been eyeing for some time now. Were actually getting along which doesn't happen too often with me and women, so I'm really getting into the conversation. Then my stupid drunk friend runs out of his room wearing some panties on his head and screaming about bears. As much as I tried not to laugh my ass off in front of this princess I couldn't help it. That's when the forces of the universe gathered all its strength and used it squeeze my intestines. So now I'm laughing my ass off in front of this beautiful woman, and I have to shit real bad. What was I suppost to do? The only thing I could do that's the answer, run to the bathroom and hope I make it without shitting myself.
So I sprint to the bathroom and I'm still cracking up. As I bust in the bathroom door I notise there's someone else in one of the stalls, which really makes me upset. But this time I cant help it, I'm in photo finish mode and its gonna blow soon. So I smash the stall door open and throw the pants down to get into position.
At this point I'm just cracking up and the poo is flowing out of my ass. Water Is splashing all over my cheeks and legs are flailing wildly in the air like I'm being tickled or something. While this is going I keep laughing harder and harder and I keep pooping more and more. Its starting to get painful now as the first wave of moist poo is gone and its getting down to reserves. Laughing and laughing and pooing and pooing and kicking and kicking! I was laughing at myself for having an unbelievable poo, shitting next to someone and them hear me, and my dumbass panty wearing friend. It was out of control, I couldn't walk for a while. When I got back to the girl and she asked what happened I calmly replied "oh... I fell in."
I'm back to rock, boys. I couldn't stay out of this one.
King: "We criticize the lit-establishment because we're competing against it."
And they don't talk back to you b/c, well, you're no competition.
First blood of the day!
Bam-Bam
Wow! I guess you really told us off, Bam Bam.
The truth is that the lit-establishment is a tottering house of cards waiting to collapse. That's the reality. As I've pointed out-- look at their best lit-critics. There's nothing there. The ULA is ahead of the game because we're able to see this.
Pompadoured aristocrats born into privilege-- who have they ever competed against?
Sorry, but you haven't made your case. If the ULA is as bad as you allege, why are folks so hyper about us? Who ARE these people posting on this blog, creating fake-ULA sites and such?
I'm sure in private Moody, Birkerts, are quite upset at being exposed at frauds. (Let's remember how Dave Eggers was caught dissing the ULA anonymously on Amazon. Pretty extreme behavior against folks that are no competition, isn't it??)
Mr. Morningwood, Orlando, Ezekiel,
Do you think Noah Cicero is reachable? He's clearly been muzzled by the ULA. What happened to the guy who wanted to beat in people's faces? What happened to the hate? I think Noah's prime material for our new organization: the Subterranenan Literary Organization. SLO could use Noah Cicero's semi-retarded voice. He'd be the smartest of us, though. Could we handle it?
Please advise.
Sal
On the dearth of literary critics: ULA claims that the few critics that exist today have nothing conversial to say. But how does the ULA approach literary criticism? "They are corrupt! They are corrupt!"
I haven't seen any legitimate literary criticism come from the ULA. The only real message I've discerned is the accusation that today's writers are clever, but non-substantive. How, exactly?
What Dale Peck does that no one from the ULA does is give precise, articulate arguments and *examples* to support his opinions. I'm not sure I've ever seen a valid, elaborated opinion about literature on this site. Sure, there's plenty critique about the system of the literature community -- but what about the actual work being produced?
Oops -- I said Dale Peck, when I meant to say James Wood.
Actually, I think Dale Peck is a big crybaby, too.
Aha! So it is true!
Orlando Hotpockets *is* Anonymous!!!
Though I hate it when my work is credited to Anonymous, I must admit "The Heat of My Pockets." is the greatest memoir ever written. I'd cross the whale-road to shake his bloody hand.
I just jumped on board yesterday, so I didn't realize that Anonymous was one person in particular, so from now on, I'll go as Anonymous, Too.
Might I add that the hardships these ULA people whine about are nothing compared to what an Anglo-Saxon poet must endure. Tight metrical constraints, an absolutely insane amount of alliteration, drunken kings (*real* kings) and sheild thanes who'll just as soon chop your head off as listen to the thousands of lines of well-crafted verse you're trying to remember over your mead-induced hangover and the goddamn plucking of that infernal harp.
What do they crow about?: "I got a mention in the NY Times." "Moody's rich and he won an award."
We'll see who remembers your crappy writing 13 centuries from now.
What a bunch of pussies.
Hey everybody, it sounds like the King is leaving for a while. So let's discuss what his real problem might be. Anybody have any clues?
I mean, is he really insane enough to think this ULA crap is any good? Is that even possible? I don't see how, but then again people believe all kinda strange shit.
It's clear that doing the usual work of writing and publishing is too much for him. He (and, I guess, they) expect to send out some press releases and just have the world drop everything and call them geniuses.
Actually doing the really slow, hard labor of improving your craft and forth is not tolerable to someone with a weak ego. And for all the bluster, it's pretty clear these are folks who lack both talent and the basic inner strength required to be an artist.
They stamp their feet and hold their breath and otherwise carry on like small children, expecting the world to take notice of them. When it doesn't, they cry and have their little fits. And act as if the problem is that the mean old grownups are corrupt.
This argument is not that impressive when delivered in a whine.
It's probably a pretty good scam for Wenclas. Nobody who spends all that much time talking about how everybody ELSE is a corrupt can ever be anything but a con man. (That's just the way the world is.) He might believe his own bullshit and probably does. It helps get him attention, and the poor man-child does seem to need it.
But is there more to it than that? Anybody got inside dope on this?
that Wenclas had contended
long against Moody, sustained fierce enmity,
felony and feud, for many seasons
continual strife; he did not want peace
with any man of the McSweeney's contingent,
. . .
but the wretch was persecuting
--the dark death-shade-- writers old and young;
he lay in wait and set snares, in the endless night he held the misty moors; men do not know
where such hellish enigmas slink in their haunts.
Or maybe it was that testicle accident he had when he was just a little kingling. Heyyy. Do you think Moody was behind it?
Ahh. The moment has arrived. The King has left the building and someone seemingly half-sensible walks in.
This is where we post an even-tempered reply, pointing out that we don't really care about N. Krauss, haven't read her work, aren't obsessed with her book advance or reputation--as you are--or your perceived idea of her fabulous life with her husband at Manhattan cocktail parties. It's where we say that we don't have to compare Eggers with Hemingway because we are unaware that he made that comparison himself, and that even if he had made that comparison it would not justify the hateful slander that we've read on this site about him--insinuating that he had something to do with his sister's death, as I read here last week, is unforgivealbe, and you should all be ashamed. And no, I've never met the man and am hardly a fawning fan of his writing.
It's where we point out that even if you don't like Moody or Eggers, saying that they are "the worst writers of their generation" is absolutely absurd and patently, demonstrably untrue, and that you should know better since some of the "worst writers" of any generation are having their turgid crap posted on your web site. And, I'm sorry, but I feel so confident in this assertion that your fantasy of a transformative revolution and your new publishing venture and how you're taking your writings to the masses actually strikes me as sad and makes me feel bad that I waste any time at all mocking you, but then I remember the ad hominen attacks the ULA have launched at all these underserving people and then I don't feel so bad anymore.
This is where we point out that we've never been to an MFA program and confirm, as many of your detractors have, that you have some good points about the distribution of funds to artists and how they could be better based on need, but how this one good point doesn't outweigh the ridiculous bombast and 1000 bad points that are made on this site.
This is where we say all of this only to have our words ignored, discussion--true discussion--forsaken and followed up by some asinine, propaganda-style sloganeering that makes me wonder again if you guys are for real or if this is some incredibly high-concept performance art piece.
So let's let the wearisome game continue. Let's have some more of your self-delusional bullshit.
Speaking of shit, can someone post another poop story. They're really funny.
They're back because he said "Bennington." They're back because he said "Bellow."
Invisible toadies slinking...
"You have no respect for craft." ---That's a good one! What a workshopper!
And the poopy vignettes---the clever toss-offs---what are they but more classroom drills?---why, she can do them with her eyes closed! What a gift! (Wrist-clapping all around from the Anonymice.)
Toadies, you complain that our efforts are repetitive in a bad way---we see it as constructive, of course. We promote our writers and heroes. We expose our enemies. We name names and give reasons and move forward, growing, picking up steam.
You on the other hand: Who do you promote? Where in your wasted frippery do you say who inspires you?
And look at your tactics: Anonymous racist poopery and spam-attacks. Contrast it with our tactics: Standing up against fraudulent awards and at making direct public challenges at readings, asking things like Why write about trees and chewing gum when they just started a war?
Can you imagine how sad things would be if people like you (and "serious writers") *DID* want to be on our side?
Do you imagine we're trying to please you? No, we are indeed going to outcompete you. Your sneaky, backroom tactics can't stand against us for an instant.
Oh, we get weaklings trying to participate from time to time, but this is an up-from-zeening outfit, where people know what's involved in getting real projects out there. You carry your weight or you're history. Lightweights don't last.
It's funny that you're so afraid. So far one of you gave his name---a guy from Colorado. Good for him. What's to be afraid of? Your heroes and Bennington profs would pat you on the back for standing up for them, wouldn't they? "Good job, Loren!" Or would they? The experts on knife-sharpening would see candor as weakness, wouldn't they---"But, Lyle, you know you didn't have to say a thing. We'll be fine here. Tsk, tsk." Then again maybe they'd say "But you know, Courtney, I didn't see that you actually said anything GOOD about us. Hmmm?"
Dear Jeff,
No, actually. I just go to Bennington because I like to have the shit fucked out of me by famous writers.
C
Back because you said "Bennington" and "Bellow"? Dude, we're back because we're fucking bored. We're also curious if you're ever gonna let Noah Cicero off his leash.
And don't link us up with the Stormfront fucker. I happen to think Marissa is a cutie pie. She should totally apply to Bennington. Courtney loves threesomes.
Rick Moody
Speaking of work... up on the ledge glazing and replacing shot windows at 42nd and Chester, rehabing a barge board that hasn't been touched in 5o or 60 yrs. Of a slum lords rental property, 40 feet up in the air and overlooking the U of P the Vatican City of Philadelphia and just as evil,you can smell the bottom feeders from these rarified edges and taste the dicarded furniture, computers, processed food still in the box (in aGothicka of homeless and hunry children) that is thrown out into the streets by the spoiled, spiritless MFAers and Wharton School business majors, bought with daddy's credit card as we enter into the hiatus between terms. But the risk and the purity of my labor makes for good inspiration and reinforces the zeal and urgency and honesty of my writing.
Any who you cowards and "blackguards" who are attacking the King I've got a few numbers for you that I'll be posting to block yer sucker punches, although the one here is not my first choice I think it gets near at least one facet of your scatology and fetishism. The point is that the petty Nazi that destoyed the "New Phistine" publicly was no better than a book burner or Right Wing fascist censor. The point is that there was destruction going on here of free speech, free press--- the ego slant from you puppets is a typical relativist fascist response deliberatly obscuring the real point of Wenclas mentioning the incident. You who identify with your own feces, those of poor potty training, are like ants biting at the feet of a bull- elephant. And you know who your are, we on the other hand know what you are and who your masters are. HatePunches, Moronymous, et al, know now the ULA tag team are nothing less than "The Othersiders" and your feeble attempts at muffling the truth is backfiring. Heres one for y'all and expect more if I hear another peep outta yas:
THE MARKET
To eat for the taste of
salt, of sugar, of blood.
To take into the mouth
not for nourishment but
to stay hungry and as soon
as one finishes what is right
under one’s nose, to devour
in order to destroy, to annihilate
the existence of another, to deny
precedence, to assume, to assimilate
the threat, to possess forever and reduce
to a mere memory, to convert, to consume
until the eyes roll back in the skull and the jaws
unhinge, like a Death’s Head and swallowing it whole.
12.1.04
Pleasant Nightmares,
FW (aka. "The MP)
Dear FW-
What the fuck are you talking about?
Dear ULA-
Yes, yes! More self-delusional bullshit! Keep it comin'!
Dude. "The Market" totally rocks. You couldn't have written that. Did you plagiarize that from Edgar Allan Poo? Is this the lost work of Alexander Poop? It is even reminiscent of the work of that famous constipated shut-in Emily Dickshitson.
Good Morning...
... friends and dummy-poopers:
Yes, I hate to repeat myself otherwise I'd be on the radio mesmerizing the PEOPLE cos that's the only way the system can get over on the PEOPLE who would be reading literature, listening to poetry otherwise, us over here ya see are not of the self stroking opinion that the PEOPLE are brainless idiots who want to just stare into the evil queens magic mirror watching the American Idol or whatever, its just that they have been deprived of any real alternatives, just as the PEOPLE have been deprived of their airwaves and again, as recently as three days ago when Prez Butch opened 50 million acers of wilderness to developement without our permission, of our land.
So in case you don't innerstand my sapropelic nihilists or as it would appear can't actually pay attention long enough without being spoon-feed or because yr classist "Litterchurl" is really illiteracy, deliberate without any real excuse in terms of the conditions of poverty or Prussian style inner-city education, I'm refering to the ULAers as "Othersiders" not "outsiders" nor "outlaws" though we are genuinely these too,
nor rebels neither, but true radicals especially compared to you squares, who, because we are well read and in tune with the grass roots, populist, traditions of the living American language (you're free to label the above "history" in your constipated manner!) we are well armed and dangerous! And we most of all know what hard work is and how it is the source of KRAFT as well as CONFIDENCE.
Finally here's the little ditty I wanted to send last night
and I hope it helps you cut and wipe yourselves to the quick:
FALSE WITNESS
I know what you are
I can see right through you
to the far side of the hollow
palming the ball when no one’s looking
into the car pool of dark receptacles
the third lane closes filled with dummies
when you enter the room it
evacuates behind your eyes
nothing there to speak of
unless its behind the backs of the poor
suckers who can’t but believe what comes out of
your mouth, not seeing what you put in it.
Transference of images and their shadows
sets afire the bridges to your own
private island to stay one step ahead of drowning.
7.24.04
"All Conditioned Things Are Impermanent"
-- Gotama The Buddha
"The Masked Perfesser"
It would be great if the American public started reading more literature. There are so many excellent writers around. The one thing they all have in common, of course, is that they are too busy doing real creative work to waste time on whining.
That's why they avoid the ULA completely, and leave it to people who write bad poetry and fiction about strip clubs and molesting children.
"If it walks like shit
Talks like shit
It must be shit
If it feels like shit
Tastes like shit
It must be shit
If it looks like shit
Sounds like shit
It must be shit
If it smells like shit
Tells like shit
It must be shit"
-Iggy Pop
Adam Hardin,
I appreciate your intensity. I'm just sorry you've hitched your wagon to the loser parade of the ULA. The reason no one has written the definitive 9/11 novel is because anyone who says to himself, "Here goes, my definitive 9/11 novel," is going to fail miserably. Did Fitzgerald say, "Here goes, my definitive social-climbing novel," or did Tolstoy say, "Oh, boy! My definitive Napoleonic Wars novel! This'll show 'em!" No. Writers write what they write when they write it. No one could write a good 9/11 novel right now, anyway. It's too soon, probably. We don't know what it means yet. This stuff takes years. If the ULA had any idea how to write (what you guys do is the literary equivalent of a circle jerk) they might understand this. And as for Moody and Eggers . . . as someone else said, WHO THE FUCK CARES. There are dozens of great writers out there right now that no one is reading and it's not because they aren't great: Thomas McGuane, Mark Helprin, Joanna Scott, Clive James, Richard Powers. Read some Mark Helprin, ULA: The guy went to fancy schools and is rich and yet writes about life and adventure and is funny as hell. You wish you could write something 1 fucking tenth as moving as any of that. (But by the way: Didn't Eggers's memoir sell 1.8 millions copies in hardcover and hasn't it sold almost 3 million in paperback? Isn't it one of the bestselling literary memoirs of all time? Uh, doesn't this sort of suggest your accusation that Eggers and co. dom't sell is, like most of what you say, flat out fuckingly wrong?)
Don't you realize why we love teasing you guys? Because you're so thin-skinned and oblivious! Whenever our girlfriends depress us, we shoot on over the ULA site for fun, post some poo, and then watch as the accusations about the conspiracy against you rise. Then we call each other and laugh. The arrival of Orlando Hotpockets . . . now that has changed things. We salute you, sir! We love you, mayhap. The Beowulf poet, too. You is rad. There's finally some real insurrection at "Attacking the Demi-Puppets"! And ULA people, please: Get a sense of humor about yourselves. Really. You interrupt people at readings in front of their friends. We slag you off on your website, which I doubt even your friends read. At least your humiliation is private.
Come on! More! Bring it!
I remember when the guy who wrote "The Battle of Maldon"--I know it was you Aelfric, even though you published it anonymously--was being praised all over East Anglia and he was getting commissions from spear-lords and shield-thanes from Geatland to Wessex, I remember how pissed off I was. I mean, a guy writes one decent poem about a battle and suddenly everyone's talking about it.
But did I sit there and whinge about it? Did I get together with my good friend The Gawain-Poet (talk about an undergrounder who gets no respect!) and cry into my mead, whingeing about how Ethelread was all corrupt, and wah wah wah, he gives all his commissions to Aelfric because he's Ethelred's sister-son? No. I just pulled out my trusty harp and proceeded to write some of the best fuckin' Anglo- Saxon poetry there is. So take it from me, The Beowulf-Poet: focus more on your craft and less on the fancy Kraft cheese slices you're eating at your little ULA soirees.
And you, Mr. Hotpockets, are a genius--I knew it when I first read the ARC of "The Heat of My Pockets" (which, alas, dissolved when a sudden sunshower occurred as I was delighting in its final sheets). If you require a blurb for the single-ply edition of your works:
"Hwaet! Hotpockets has the mind and mettle
of poets past, a word weaver,
telling truth to envious oafs
poked, prodded with scorning sticks
like rabid dogs they howl
at his brilliance."
- b-p
Hello, boys. This is wonderful. Keep it up.
Have you spent even one minute at any part of the Bennington College MFA program?
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