Literary wants from a greedy little mouth.

I am a greedy greedy baby.

I want to read ALL the things and thus own ALL THE THINGS.

So let’s talk about all the things I want.

First let’s establish that yes, I know I can get some of these things from the library but that’s not the same to me. I collect and hoard books like some people collect vinyl or baseball cards. The Precious is mine.

Let’s also establish that in my dream life I have a book buying Sugar Daddy/Mama who only ever wants me to write them book reviews that are overflowing with feelings.

First let’s talk about Pank. Specifically Pank 7. Should finances straighten out some more I will be buying it, it will be mine. I have Pank 6 at home and that made me fall in love with the print version. The feel of the pages they print on (I know zilch about print anything) has a lovely touch. Print Pank is a chubby hefty thing and has inside all the things I love about online Pank. Speaking of, the Pulp Issue is up right now, as edited by Court Merrigan whom I’m also really into is getting read today. I will also note here that because of Court, I have been trying my own special flavor of pulp. It’s coming along but not quite there yet.

I swear I’m like Pank’s creepy 7th grade girlfriend who hides around corners whispering to herself, “I LOVE YOU”.


While we’re talking about creepy unrequited super love, can we talk about Junot Diaz? Like every other thinking human who’s read his work I am ass over tea kettle. I want his new book. I also want him to talk to every asshole who has misunderstood things like the Vida Count and why representation is a thing forever. Or he could just talk to me about  Beyond the beauty of his writing I really like how he speaks, he’s got a soft almost hesitant voice to me sometimes and I find it very soothing. No seriously. I mean if you want the conflagration of absolute soothing and delight listen to him being interviewed by the ever lovely Michael Silverblatt on Bookworm.

Fuck I can’t even.

See I’m greedy. I want not only an authors words but their voice. Their hesitant moments of almost giggles and musical pauses between words while they think.

I need to read Shane Jones’ book Light Boxes: A Novel.  I won a signed copy over at HTMLGIANT a while back and his prose in his latest book is just so beautiful (deep review is coming I swear) with little touches of things like line drawings and confused characters, I loved it. I want more. My partner watches (and me by default) a lot of cooking television and I want to use James Oseland’s way of saying unctuous, the way he says it it’s always like a silky fatty beautiful mouth feel and that describes Shane Jones writing quite well.

What else do I want?

I want more of Antonia Crane‘s writing because her writing is vulnerable and beautiful. I want more of her words in the world and I want them to be mine because I’m a selfish fucker.

I want more Walt Cessna.  I want more of his dirty gritty stories and pictures of naked dirty boys. I want them all right now. I want it because I get it.

I want more Ashley Bethard because she writes tiny beautiful things in triplicate. I need more women in my universe.

I want more J. Bradley because that little ebook made me feel things that I like.

I want more Up Literature ebooks. Now.

I want ALL of the books Roxane put out on Tiny Hardcore Press because she is not only an excellent author but she has really excellent fucking taste.

My book wishlist is insatiable.

I am a greedy and voracious reader. I want the words the way reasonable people want say bacon or shoes.

I want.


In less greedy news, my reading in Portland is coming up and I will vomit emotions about it later. Right now I have work to do while I roll around in my greedy want flavored feelings.


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