Brown Fuzzy Words by Shaun Gannon



                Space is scary. Nobody can hear you scream there. Insult what you will about the world with all its problems at least people can hear you scream. That’s important because volume is one of the main ways you can work through frustration. Listen to Shaun Gannon’s many performances. In space nobody would even know that he is Shaun Gannon. Also there isn’t any oxygen is space so Shaun would probably die. Hope Shaun never gives a reading in outer space. For this first half it documents the typical coffee table chit-chat before getting ‘extreme’. Chicken dinners are the most extreme to have in one’s life. Maryland takes chicken dinners very seriously letting royalty end up the farms. 

                Extremeness is the focal point of ‘Shooting Sleeping Soldiers’. Shaun shows us Rob and Joe. They live deep fulfilling lives. On the other side they shoot sleeping soldiers. Joe is exceptional at this game. I understand Joe’s life. A friend of mine got a college scholarship through his obsessive work with Starcraft. Like was it extremely unhealthy? Yes it was. Did he get $10,000 for playing a game over and over again until he was really annoying to play any game with? Yes he did. Various little punk children yell at Joe. They yell back. Due to the constant yelling of ‘Fuck you kid’ they are disconnected. 

                In the Addendum Shaun goes into a not heavily fictionalized history. There’s the mention of the corporate background of how ‘Shooting Sleeping Soldiers’ came to be. Shaun has a lot of fun figuring out exactly what systems work best ‘Shooting Sleeping Soldiers’. We learn about the gameplay. It is so basic. You crawl on your stomach and eventually pass out due to a lack of sleep. Right in the beginning it sounds less like literature and more like a case study. I expected that next it would mention the name of some developer and say ‘Rebecca had a tough choice: release now with errors in time for Christmas or hold off for release of a perfect game for next Christmas’. 

                ‘The Mason’ is a clear reference to Mason Johnson, the Mason Johnson of Chicago. I think it is a little ridiculous that poor Mason is killed in six seconds and that this is shown on YouTube. Various subsets of the type of player are shown as well. Mortars, grenadiers, all sorts of uncouth gentlemen adorn these games. Even a version of OWNAGE is present with the ‘shove a grenade in their mouth and pull the pull’. Right as I wrote that previous line somebody screamed/groaned in my building. Yes it is that intense. Fan sites are brought up along with quotes from said website. 

                At the very end is a dry, Reuters-style depiction of a fictional event. Shaun describes this kind of mindless or mindful violence so well. Is Shaun Gannon the Claude Van Damme of alt lit? I’d say no, Shaun is way taller than that Hollywood fake. Prepare yourself for a deeply strange, oddly immersive set of stories.

Brown Fuzzy Words by Shaun Gannon

                Space is scary. Nobody can hear you scream there. Insult what you will about the world with all its problems at least people can hear you scream. That’s important because volume is one of the main ways you can work through frustration. Listen to Shaun Gannon’s many performances. In space nobody would even know that he is Shaun Gannon. Also there isn’t any oxygen is space so Shaun would probably die. Hope Shaun never gives a reading in outer space. For this first half it documents the typical coffee table chit-chat before getting ‘extreme’. Chicken dinners are the most extreme to have in one’s life. Maryland takes chicken dinners very seriously letting royalty end up the farms. 

                Extremeness is the focal point of ‘Shooting Sleeping Soldiers’. Shaun shows us Rob and Joe. They live deep fulfilling lives. On the other side they shoot sleeping soldiers. Joe is exceptional at this game. I understand Joe’s life. A friend of mine got a college scholarship through his obsessive work with Starcraft. Like was it extremely unhealthy? Yes it was. Did he get $10,000 for playing a game over and over again until he was really annoying to play any game with? Yes he did. Various little punk children yell at Joe. They yell back. Due to the constant yelling of ‘Fuck you kid’ they are disconnected. 

                In the Addendum Shaun goes into a not heavily fictionalized history. There’s the mention of the corporate background of how ‘Shooting Sleeping Soldiers’ came to be. Shaun has a lot of fun figuring out exactly what systems work best ‘Shooting Sleeping Soldiers’. We learn about the gameplay. It is so basic. You crawl on your stomach and eventually pass out due to a lack of sleep. Right in the beginning it sounds less like literature and more like a case study. I expected that next it would mention the name of some developer and say ‘Rebecca had a tough choice: release now with errors in time for Christmas or hold off for release of a perfect game for next Christmas’. 

                ‘The Mason’ is a clear reference to Mason Johnson, the Mason Johnson of Chicago. I think it is a little ridiculous that poor Mason is killed in six seconds and that this is shown on YouTube. Various subsets of the type of player are shown as well. Mortars, grenadiers, all sorts of uncouth gentlemen adorn these games. Even a version of OWNAGE is present with the ‘shove a grenade in their mouth and pull the pull’. Right as I wrote that previous line somebody screamed/groaned in my building. Yes it is that intense. Fan sites are brought up along with quotes from said website. 

                At the very end is a dry, Reuters-style depiction of a fictional event. Shaun describes this kind of mindless or mindful violence so well. Is Shaun Gannon the Claude Van Damme of alt lit? I’d say no, Shaun is way taller than that Hollywood fake. Prepare yourself for a deeply strange, oddly immersive set of stories.

BE PROUD NOW + fiction by Shaun Gannon
              METAZEN has a sister. She’s cute. She’s single. She’s called HOUSEFIRE. She hates your fucking, shitty house. But she has no problem hosting some seriously twisted writers. I follow it and see a great deal of wonderful, demented things. I feel the need to point out one particular writer, a recent piece by one Shaun Gannon, whose personal bio blurb is painfully honest. Shaun is a lone voice in the wild, calling attention to dangling baby teeth. Perhaps we all have metaphorical baby teeth, things we want to pull yet can’t. Like the perfect crime or the ability to pay off $84,000 in debt. 
                In ‘Be Proud Now’ the character wants to pull something off. The character needed to find ‘the good job’ and let their origin country. I read this with tears in my eyes. Like the character, I travel looking for ‘the good job’. Maybe we all look for ‘the good job’, for money, for a comfortable amount of income to  live on, to avoid worrying about things like shelter, food, or a reliable internet connection. 
                The faithful character wants to improve their life. Nothing they do seems to work. Everything is too hard. Jobs don’t last. People don’t pay. Instead the character sees every effort is for naught. Attempts to improve other people’s lives don’t result in any greater good for our hero. Rather the hero sleeps in buses and cleans in hotel bathrooms. 
                For a while the character tries to make a living. The character wants to give towels and get paid sweet money for it. Nobody pays. Later the character thinks about violence, using a knife, to achieve their goals. Upon seeing other uses for towels, they try to make money in a myriad number of ways. 
                By the end it becomes a plea or a threat. The character knows of the evils involved. Unfortunately it seems they cannot be a good person. While the character knows how low this is in society, it appears to be a more moral or better outcome than simply using violence to achieve their means.  An illusion is made to the character not wanting to return to this form, showing a certain level of redemption the character wants to achieve. 
                Shaun Gannon is the chilliest of the bros. Occasionally I want to shout, at the top of my lungs, in a bar full of literary types “I AM SHAUN GANNON”. But that would be a lie. Don’t make me use the voice. I just want to be noticed. Please, let me give away the towels.

BE PROUD NOW + fiction by Shaun Gannon

              METAZEN has a sister. She’s cute. She’s single. She’s called HOUSEFIRE. She hates your fucking, shitty house. But she has no problem hosting some seriously twisted writers. I follow it and see a great deal of wonderful, demented things. I feel the need to point out one particular writer, a recent piece by one Shaun Gannon, whose personal bio blurb is painfully honest. Shaun is a lone voice in the wild, calling attention to dangling baby teeth. Perhaps we all have metaphorical baby teeth, things we want to pull yet can’t. Like the perfect crime or the ability to pay off $84,000 in debt. 

                In ‘Be Proud Now’ the character wants to pull something off. The character needed to find ‘the good job’ and let their origin country. I read this with tears in my eyes. Like the character, I travel looking for ‘the good job’. Maybe we all look for ‘the good job’, for money, for a comfortable amount of income to  live on, to avoid worrying about things like shelter, food, or a reliable internet connection. 

                The faithful character wants to improve their life. Nothing they do seems to work. Everything is too hard. Jobs don’t last. People don’t pay. Instead the character sees every effort is for naught. Attempts to improve other people’s lives don’t result in any greater good for our hero. Rather the hero sleeps in buses and cleans in hotel bathrooms. 

                For a while the character tries to make a living. The character wants to give towels and get paid sweet money for it. Nobody pays. Later the character thinks about violence, using a knife, to achieve their goals. Upon seeing other uses for towels, they try to make money in a myriad number of ways. 

                By the end it becomes a plea or a threat. The character knows of the evils involved. Unfortunately it seems they cannot be a good person. While the character knows how low this is in society, it appears to be a more moral or better outcome than simply using violence to achieve their means.  An illusion is made to the character not wanting to return to this form, showing a certain level of redemption the character wants to achieve. 

                Shaun Gannon is the chilliest of the bros. Occasionally I want to shout, at the top of my lungs, in a bar full of literary types “I AM SHAUN GANNON”. But that would be a lie. Don’t make me use the voice. I just want to be noticed. Please, let me give away the towels.

               Peterbd is a mysterious internet presence currently residing in internet city, where the grass is green and the girls are pretty. Occasionally he sends out emails which make the recipient’s day. No one has ever met or heard of Peterbd. Speculation exists he may or may not be working hard on his anonymous presence in order to bring out his true title: 2018 Poet Laureate. I could be wrong, I just don’t know. 

                I wonder though: why would be anonymous on the internet? What value do you get from hiding yourself from screaming throngs of fans? As Sisqo once said “That throng, th throng throng throng” Sisqo has moved on since that song, becoming an ambassador for peace, a near-modern day Robin Hood, stealing booty from the rich in booty and giving it to the booty-less. Truly Sisqo is a man of our times, a man who, unlike Peterbd, has allowed himself to face his adoring public.

                This is the first time anyone’s really focused on Peterbd. Personally, that’s a shame. Any contact I’ve had with Peter has been beyond engaging. It became Post-Engaging, when I get so engaged I don’t even know how I lived before that email. Yep, Peterbd changed my life. He can change yours too. Or so I’d imagine, except if you’re Peterbd. 

                Going onto Peter’s only known information outside of emails we arrive at his Tumblr. It is filled with countless literary references to such giants as Shaun Gannon, Justin Carter, and others. Even among his contacts there has been some confusion. Justin Carter couldn’t decipher Peter’s tone or intention. Peterbd doesn’t have an intention or tone. Peterbd simply is. 

                Of course Peter isn’t alone in remaining anonymous on the internet. Plenty of dwellers from internet city choose anonymity. In fact, one of those dwellers may be really close to you right now. They may have typed out something extremely relevant. Yep, I’m talking about none other than Carles, the famous blogger from Hipster Runoff. Isn’t it interesting how we’ve never seen Carles and Peterbd in the same place? Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Why don’t the two of them have some kind of joint Podcast deal where they respond to curious online lookers? I could tell you why, but that would leave you even more confused. 

                A few other queries about Peterbd: does he live in Houston, Texas? Does he play the guitar, abet in a strange, uniquely personal way? Could Peterbd be a pseudonym for Jandek, since Jandek hasn’t gotten around to creating a website yet and wanted to comment on people’s blogs anonymously? I think that’s the best idea I’ve had so far. Also, why does Peterbd enjoy elaaiine’s twitter so much, besides it being uniformly excellent?

                Really, there are no answers to these questions. I know the truth is out there, kind of like the truth about space aliens but way more important to my life. Right now the only thing I know for certain is Peterbd will probably be sending me a lengthy email after this.

               Peterbd is a mysterious internet presence currently residing in internet city, where the grass is green and the girls are pretty. Occasionally he sends out emails which make the recipient’s day. No one has ever met or heard of Peterbd. Speculation exists he may or may not be working hard on his anonymous presence in order to bring out his true title: 2018 Poet Laureate. I could be wrong, I just don’t know. 

                I wonder though: why would be anonymous on the internet? What value do you get from hiding yourself from screaming throngs of fans? As Sisqo once said “That throng, th throng throng throng” Sisqo has moved on since that song, becoming an ambassador for peace, a near-modern day Robin Hood, stealing booty from the rich in booty and giving it to the booty-less. Truly Sisqo is a man of our times, a man who, unlike Peterbd, has allowed himself to face his adoring public.

                This is the first time anyone’s really focused on Peterbd. Personally, that’s a shame. Any contact I’ve had with Peter has been beyond engaging. It became Post-Engaging, when I get so engaged I don’t even know how I lived before that email. Yep, Peterbd changed my life. He can change yours too. Or so I’d imagine, except if you’re Peterbd. 

                Going onto Peter’s only known information outside of emails we arrive at his Tumblr. It is filled with countless literary references to such giants as Shaun Gannon, Justin Carter, and others. Even among his contacts there has been some confusion. Justin Carter couldn’t decipher Peter’s tone or intention. Peterbd doesn’t have an intention or tone. Peterbd simply is. 

                Of course Peter isn’t alone in remaining anonymous on the internet. Plenty of dwellers from internet city choose anonymity. In fact, one of those dwellers may be really close to you right now. They may have typed out something extremely relevant. Yep, I’m talking about none other than Carles, the famous blogger from Hipster Runoff. Isn’t it interesting how we’ve never seen Carles and Peterbd in the same place? Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Why don’t the two of them have some kind of joint Podcast deal where they respond to curious online lookers? I could tell you why, but that would leave you even more confused. 

                A few other queries about Peterbd: does he live in Houston, Texas? Does he play the guitar, abet in a strange, uniquely personal way? Could Peterbd be a pseudonym for Jandek, since Jandek hasn’t gotten around to creating a website yet and wanted to comment on people’s blogs anonymously? I think that’s the best idea I’ve had so far. Also, why does Peterbd enjoy elaaiine’s twitter so much, besides it being uniformly excellent?

                Really, there are no answers to these questions. I know the truth is out there, kind of like the truth about space aliens but way more important to my life. Right now the only thing I know for certain is Peterbd will probably be sending me a lengthy email after this.

Mr. Steinberg goes to Washington

                Jacob Steinberg got appointed  to a major political office. After Anthony Weiner resigned from office,  the Governor of New York needed someone to fill his seat. Looking around  on the internet, he noticed a particular poet. Flipping a coin, Jacob  ended up being picked over those with less internet presence. But no one  can control Jacob and what he does. He fights for the American people,  not for the corrupt politicians. With this he began the poetry reading  in Washington, DC, our nation’s capital. 

                 Ana (a poet from Argentina) had her material start the spirited  reading. It was a rather hot poem. First it focused on cooking, then  moved on to more “carnal” interests. Since I stink at cooking I couldn’t  relate to that part. The later part felt like a cool summer breeze.  Little did I realize the poem’s focus on sexuality would set the mood  for this reading. 

                 Carolyn De Carlo read a poem in the vein of her ‘Down’ project. It was  written by Cassandra Troyan. The name of the poem was called “Bleed on  me” a parody of the song “Lean on me”. For the poem’s content, think of  an event which occurs once a month. Add lust to the equation. 

                 “The Aesthetics of Circumcision” kept with the theme of sex. Jae  (previously unknown) read this tale of circumcised versus uncircumcised.  LetPeoplePoems came up with Carolyn De Carlo. This was a poem by Ras  Mashramani. Every single movie she could think of and every offensive  scene got followed by the line “masturbated to that”. She created this  absurd situation and then finds pleasure in it. It was pretty funny,  especially the sheer amount of references. 

                 Jae read about Kaiser, West Virginia. I’m glad she’s going to create an  internet presence. Right now she doesn’t have a blog. Hopefully she  will join the internet soon. Carolyn will keep us updated as they are  close, close friends. Perhaps we might even see her on the poetry  project “Down” though I’m not certain.

                 One of Jacob’s first poems “Your Departure” came up. It is nice to see  how artists, poets, etc. start out. This one ended up being a tad bit  sad as Jacob missed the joy that person brought. Soon I’ll be leaving  New York and I hope to keep the many good people I adore kept up with my  day to day life in a new, big city. I hope my love can transcend towns,  counties, and even states. To continue with the ‘where they are now’  theme we had Grace Marston who read poetry and had a specific skill: she  knew Poncho. She talked about how he used to go to concerts and engage  in “extreme yo-yoing”. Never before had I been offered a look into  Poncho’s soul, a portrait of the young artist as a yo-yoer. 

                 “Your room is like a goodwill disaster right now” Jacob told his friend  Mickey. Glad that Jacob is able to keep his wit about him outside of  poetry. “Sex in the City”, from an Argentine poem followed in theme of  relationships. This one ended being less sexual and more  relationship-based then the previous poems. 

                “Down” came up a lot. Another one of Ras’s poems “My Size Barbie”  received much needed attention. Gushers and wine were offered to the  husband, along with X-Men towels. Next to the poem was a picture of a  Barbie Doll. Really, I fully support and encourage anyone to follow  their muse. Among many internet poets, they uniquely picked this  explicit work. 

                 Jackson Nieuwland and Carolyn De Carlo wrote poems together. One of  them “Jobs” talks about various sexual acts that could be seen as  ‘jobs’. Two people, separated by many time zones, were able to come  together through the power of words. Other poems mentioned Jackson and  described his homeland, talking about how “everything is fantastic” in  New Zealand. It mentioned one amazing part of the country: its large  hobbit population.

                 Shaun Gannon arrived wearing a white cardigan sweater. Once he arrived,  he drank alcohol out of a jar going all 18th century on us.  “Knife Show” showed off Shaun’s parody of the American sales show “Knife  Show”. To complete the picture Shaun read it with a ridiculous accent.  Each knife ended up being extremely expensive. He offered knifes for  finding bears and defeating your nightmares. 

                 Eventually sex came up in full. This was perhaps inevitable. Jacob  stripped down to his undergarments. In case this reading was NSFW (not  safe for work) before, it was confirmed once we witnessed Jacob’s ‘happy  trail’. Glad that Jacob and I have that single thing in common, well,  besides the whole ‘New York’ based thing. 

                 Susie Anderson’s poem “Minutes” received a bizarre treatment. First  Shaun read his re-translation of it from Jacob’s translation, perhaps to  show his expertise with the Spanish language. Next Jacob read it  originally from NewWaveVomit (number 162). We only missed the original Spanish delivery. 

                11:00 PM (East Coast Time Zone) came up. For those unaware, Jordan Castro released a video showing him earnestly trying to rip off his own dick. Hearing Carolyn’s  reaction was priceless; I can’t replicate it without using unreasonable  amounts of CAPS lock. While unsuccessful at pulling off his own dick,  everyone in the chat and at the reading wondered about their own urges.  Carolyn wrote a poem about dick pictures as Jacob became sexually  aroused by the language. Eventually Carolyn’s poem will posted on  ‘Down’. I’d like to say more about Jacob’s actions but I’ll leave it at  possibly profane images entered my mind, ones I’ll never be able to  forget. The action may jeopardize Jacob’s attempt to become a college  professor or ensure it, we’ll have to see. 

                 How did it end? Well, first Jacob Steinberg read about how his “Blog is  no longer a safety zone”. Next up came Shaun Gannon (a particular  favorite) reading in his patented voice. I hope to meet Shaun at some  point; I’m a big supporter of his work. Plus, he enjoys Tristan Tzara,  so that’s a big plus. Finally, they gathered into a giant ball and bid  us adieu. Look at the photo. Feel the love.

Mr. Steinberg goes to Washington

                Jacob Steinberg got appointed to a major political office. After Anthony Weiner resigned from office, the Governor of New York needed someone to fill his seat. Looking around on the internet, he noticed a particular poet. Flipping a coin, Jacob ended up being picked over those with less internet presence. But no one can control Jacob and what he does. He fights for the American people, not for the corrupt politicians. With this he began the poetry reading in Washington, DC, our nation’s capital. 

                Ana (a poet from Argentina) had her material start the spirited reading. It was a rather hot poem. First it focused on cooking, then moved on to more “carnal” interests. Since I stink at cooking I couldn’t relate to that part. The later part felt like a cool summer breeze. Little did I realize the poem’s focus on sexuality would set the mood for this reading. 

                Carolyn De Carlo read a poem in the vein of her ‘Down’ project. It was written by Cassandra Troyan. The name of the poem was called “Bleed on me” a parody of the song “Lean on me”. For the poem’s content, think of an event which occurs once a month. Add lust to the equation. 

                “The Aesthetics of Circumcision” kept with the theme of sex. Jae (previously unknown) read this tale of circumcised versus uncircumcised. LetPeoplePoems came up with Carolyn De Carlo. This was a poem by Ras Mashramani. Every single movie she could think of and every offensive scene got followed by the line “masturbated to that”. She created this absurd situation and then finds pleasure in it. It was pretty funny, especially the sheer amount of references. 

                Jae read about Kaiser, West Virginia. I’m glad she’s going to create an internet presence. Right now she doesn’t have a blog. Hopefully she will join the internet soon. Carolyn will keep us updated as they are close, close friends. Perhaps we might even see her on the poetry project “Down” though I’m not certain.

                One of Jacob’s first poems “Your Departure” came up. It is nice to see how artists, poets, etc. start out. This one ended up being a tad bit sad as Jacob missed the joy that person brought. Soon I’ll be leaving New York and I hope to keep the many good people I adore kept up with my day to day life in a new, big city. I hope my love can transcend towns, counties, and even states. To continue with the ‘where they are now’ theme we had Grace Marston who read poetry and had a specific skill: she knew Poncho. She talked about how he used to go to concerts and engage in “extreme yo-yoing”. Never before had I been offered a look into Poncho’s soul, a portrait of the young artist as a yo-yoer. 

                “Your room is like a goodwill disaster right now” Jacob told his friend Mickey. Glad that Jacob is able to keep his wit about him outside of poetry. “Sex in the City”, from an Argentine poem followed in theme of relationships. This one ended being less sexual and more relationship-based then the previous poems. 

                “Down” came up a lot. Another one of Ras’s poems “My Size Barbie” received much needed attention. Gushers and wine were offered to the husband, along with X-Men towels. Next to the poem was a picture of a Barbie Doll. Really, I fully support and encourage anyone to follow their muse. Among many internet poets, they uniquely picked this explicit work. 

                Jackson Nieuwland and Carolyn De Carlo wrote poems together. One of them “Jobs” talks about various sexual acts that could be seen as ‘jobs’. Two people, separated by many time zones, were able to come together through the power of words. Other poems mentioned Jackson and described his homeland, talking about how “everything is fantastic” in New Zealand. It mentioned one amazing part of the country: its large hobbit population.

                Shaun Gannon arrived wearing a white cardigan sweater. Once he arrived, he drank alcohol out of a jar going all 18th century on us. “Knife Show” showed off Shaun’s parody of the American sales show “Knife Show”. To complete the picture Shaun read it with a ridiculous accent. Each knife ended up being extremely expensive. He offered knifes for finding bears and defeating your nightmares. 

                Eventually sex came up in full. This was perhaps inevitable. Jacob stripped down to his undergarments. In case this reading was NSFW (not safe for work) before, it was confirmed once we witnessed Jacob’s ‘happy trail’. Glad that Jacob and I have that single thing in common, well, besides the whole ‘New York’ based thing. 

                Susie Anderson’s poem “Minutes” received a bizarre treatment. First Shaun read his re-translation of it from Jacob’s translation, perhaps to show his expertise with the Spanish language. Next Jacob read it originally from NewWaveVomit (number 162). We only missed the original Spanish delivery. 

                11:00 PM (East Coast Time Zone) came up. For those unaware, Jordan Castro released a video showing him earnestly trying to rip off his own dick. Hearing Carolyn’s reaction was priceless; I can’t replicate it without using unreasonable amounts of CAPS lock. While unsuccessful at pulling off his own dick, everyone in the chat and at the reading wondered about their own urges. Carolyn wrote a poem about dick pictures as Jacob became sexually aroused by the language. Eventually Carolyn’s poem will posted on ‘Down’. I’d like to say more about Jacob’s actions but I’ll leave it at possibly profane images entered my mind, ones I’ll never be able to forget. The action may jeopardize Jacob’s attempt to become a college professor or ensure it, we’ll have to see. 

                How did it end? Well, first Jacob Steinberg read about how his “Blog is no longer a safety zone”. Next up came Shaun Gannon (a particular favorite) reading in his patented voice. I hope to meet Shaun at some point; I’m a big supporter of his work. Plus, he enjoys Tristan Tzara, so that’s a big plus. Finally, they gathered into a giant ball and bid us adieu. Look at the photo. Feel the love.

Ear Eater #6


                I sat ready. Food surrounded me waiting for consumption. My computer screen quivered with anticipation as I typed words into it. A few stared vacantly into their computer screens. They knew something was about to happen, something amazing, something that would change their lives forever and ever. 

                Steve Roggenbuck’s face emerged from the darkness. From darkness comes light. His teeth shone brightly out of the darkness. I’m certain Frank Hinton was happy. Everyone who was there appeared to be glad to see her. Words escape me in describing her attire. Photos failed to capture her radiating beauty. 

                All sorts of people were at the official gathering. Shaun Gannon appeared. Holding a camera Shaun was the videographer for the event. We heard countless people introduce and network among each other. In order to avoid the noise Steve showed off the surrounding area. Firefighters stood by outside. They were at the ready in case things got too hot for the poetry reading. 

                 Andrew James Weatherhead came out to Chicago from New York. While he introduced himself he explained how New York audiences were a bit more difficult than in Chicago. Though he had a slow delivery it was funny. Some of his poems had amazing lines, such as “Four more beers”, “Emails are unbelievable”, “Sleds sledding on other sleds” along with reading tweets. Metazen received some attention as Andrew read a few poems he had submitted to Frank Hinton’s site. Using weird details (ink jet printers, Statue of Liberty, etc.) made the poems that more graspable. 

                Frank Hinton read. “Fantastical Magical Life” got played.  According to Cassandra Troyan this was the first time anything like this had been done at Ear Eater. We watched her type things into a computer for the video. Once that had finished she read in a computerized voice with the caption “Sad Cave” above it. That was the title of the poem.  A girl and a boy hung out together. Each one began to explore the other, slowly, gently. Both of them rode in a boat together. Having such a long one drew me into the material. While it lasted 37 minutes it had become a whole environment with its short, suggestive sentences.

                Timothy Sanders read at the actual, in real life party. He’s the author of “Orange Juice”. According to Cassandra Troyan the book sold out. Coming all the way from Austin, Texas he began with a poem about a growling thing. I liked his delivery. Each word came out so clearly. For the first poem, he did a fantastic job of mentioning every single possible detail, how the animal moves, what it thinks, what it says, etc. Smells were described. Anything you could possibly want a description of had been included.  
 
                Meghan Lamb continued the evening. Introduced as a ‘poly-artist’ she had visuals and sound backing her up. The visuals included pieces of Americana, bits of farms, clear blue skies, etc. None of these are things I encounter on a regular basis. Her poem followed the video beside her to some degree. Listening to it explain the process of aging, awareness, and the bleakness of years passing. Growing up can be a bit gross and awkward. The poem felt extremely, unrelentingly dark. She asked why she pushed away all those bits of childhood, too quickly it felts. Stuffed animals were thrown on the floor. An ambient noise built up slowly. Using the same words over and over again made sense towards the end as Meghan made an entire environment come near collapse.

                Closing the evening was Mike Kitchell (known as “Impossible Mike” for the impossibility of his greatness). “A Contingency of Evil” got read first. He read it with a huge amount of energy. This one appeared to be bleak and surreal. Something was done with a millipede, something I cannot repeat on here nor want to. Really it takes a lot to shock me but the extreme details and gruesome actions were quite perverse. Later that evening I had nightmares about millipedes. 

                Seeing all the poets after the reading was exciting. We got a great feel of how they were normally. Great amounts of alcohol were consumed in the name of art. The inside of the refrigerator revealed that I and Cassandra Troyan enjoy the same brand of hummus, the rich creamy taste of Sabra. Everyone grew merry at the end. Virtual hugs were exchanged. It was a great performance. Ear Eater forever!

Ear Eater #6

                I sat ready. Food surrounded me waiting for consumption. My computer screen quivered with anticipation as I typed words into it. A few stared vacantly into their computer screens. They knew something was about to happen, something amazing, something that would change their lives forever and ever. 

                Steve Roggenbuck’s face emerged from the darkness. From darkness comes light. His teeth shone brightly out of the darkness. I’m certain Frank Hinton was happy. Everyone who was there appeared to be glad to see her. Words escape me in describing her attire. Photos failed to capture her radiating beauty. 

                All sorts of people were at the official gathering. Shaun Gannon appeared. Holding a camera Shaun was the videographer for the event. We heard countless people introduce and network among each other. In order to avoid the noise Steve showed off the surrounding area. Firefighters stood by outside. They were at the ready in case things got too hot for the poetry reading. 

                 Andrew James Weatherhead came out to Chicago from New York. While he introduced himself he explained how New York audiences were a bit more difficult than in Chicago. Though he had a slow delivery it was funny. Some of his poems had amazing lines, such as “Four more beers”, “Emails are unbelievable”, “Sleds sledding on other sleds” along with reading tweets. Metazen received some attention as Andrew read a few poems he had submitted to Frank Hinton’s site. Using weird details (ink jet printers, Statue of Liberty, etc.) made the poems that more graspable. 

                Frank Hinton read. “Fantastical Magical Life” got played.  According to Cassandra Troyan this was the first time anything like this had been done at Ear Eater. We watched her type things into a computer for the video. Once that had finished she read in a computerized voice with the caption “Sad Cave” above it. That was the title of the poem.  A girl and a boy hung out together. Each one began to explore the other, slowly, gently. Both of them rode in a boat together. Having such a long one drew me into the material. While it lasted 37 minutes it had become a whole environment with its short, suggestive sentences.

                Timothy Sanders read at the actual, in real life party. He’s the author of “Orange Juice”. According to Cassandra Troyan the book sold out. Coming all the way from Austin, Texas he began with a poem about a growling thing. I liked his delivery. Each word came out so clearly. For the first poem, he did a fantastic job of mentioning every single possible detail, how the animal moves, what it thinks, what it says, etc. Smells were described. Anything you could possibly want a description of had been included.  

 

                Meghan Lamb continued the evening. Introduced as a ‘poly-artist’ she had visuals and sound backing her up. The visuals included pieces of Americana, bits of farms, clear blue skies, etc. None of these are things I encounter on a regular basis. Her poem followed the video beside her to some degree. Listening to it explain the process of aging, awareness, and the bleakness of years passing. Growing up can be a bit gross and awkward. The poem felt extremely, unrelentingly dark. She asked why she pushed away all those bits of childhood, too quickly it felts. Stuffed animals were thrown on the floor. An ambient noise built up slowly. Using the same words over and over again made sense towards the end as Meghan made an entire environment come near collapse.

                Closing the evening was Mike Kitchell (known as “Impossible Mike” for the impossibility of his greatness). “A Contingency of Evil” got read first. He read it with a huge amount of energy. This one appeared to be bleak and surreal. Something was done with a millipede, something I cannot repeat on here nor want to. Really it takes a lot to shock me but the extreme details and gruesome actions were quite perverse. Later that evening I had nightmares about millipedes. 

                Seeing all the poets after the reading was exciting. We got a great feel of how they were normally. Great amounts of alcohol were consumed in the name of art. The inside of the refrigerator revealed that I and Cassandra Troyan enjoy the same brand of hummus, the rich creamy taste of Sabra. Everyone grew merry at the end. Virtual hugs were exchanged. It was a great performance. Ear Eater forever!

Ear Eater 5

            Shaun Gannon began the marathon Ustream chats. Lately there have been a plethora of  these going on, allowing for mere passers-by to become fully engaged. “I  am Shaun Gannon” is to Shaun Gannon as “I’m Rick James Bitch” is to  David Chappelle. While it is funny, it isn’t all that he offers. Shaun  writes other poems as well.  Some of those other poems were read by his geologist friend who got somewhat intoxicated.  Once this ‘pre-gaming’ party ended, we headed off to the next Ustream party. We bounced.  

                Ear  Eater 5 came up next. People waited anxiously for it to begin. People  began discussing teeth. Cassandra Troyan’s teeth looked great. All of a  sudden they broke into song, specifically “I believe I can fly”. The  song moved the multiples of people residing in cyberspace. Since this  group resides and publishes poetry on the internet, it only makes sense  that they would try to interact on Ustream.

                Someone  explained to us the importance of unicorns. While we had the beginning,  we learned how nice an apartment you can get in Chicago. I feel that it  was really strange moment when Ken Baumann read a poem from another laptop. Those in the Ustream listened to him  as he read from a remote location. For a brief moment, I realized one of  the goals which bring together the boykitten movement. Perhaps more so  than any other literary movement, it openly embraces the internet. Most  other literary movements usually shun the internet or aren’t as savvy  about using it. Boykittens know how to use it. 

                The  readings were great. I felt strange watching it from such a far  distance. Oddly, my experience with poetry readings in real life are not  as good as they are online. Perhaps the poets are more active knowing  that they are being judged by an anonymous audience. Anonymity on the  internet means it can get a bit harsh regarding the criticism. Some of  the criticism is rather crude, but some of it misses the point entirely  of the work (see Kat Dixon’s article ‘DadaGate’ as it has been dubbed). 

                Brett Gallagher began with “Vessel”. I liked the reading. Seeing his body’s rotation as  he read showed a certain affection and attention to his own work. This  sounds silly but a lot of writers tend to treat readings as a formality  rather than a performance in and of itself. In this case Brett treats it  with proper attention. Considering the sheer amount of words, he didn’t  get very tripped up, as if he had practiced this quite a bit. Passion  emanated from his delivery, it felt wonderful. Note “Vessel” will be in  full-fleshed form at some point in the near future. Look out for it. 

                Online  poetry readings bring love. Even those who felt sad in the beginning  grew happier as the chat progressed. People merely talking to each other  brought joy. Slowly the host Cassandra Troyan and the virtual host Steve Roggenbuck began working in tandem. It can be strange giving attention to two  parties happening simultaneously. The two groups began to merge together  as bizarre forms of flattery fused the two groups together. ‘Driving Me  Wild’ ended up being a major chant of the night. But the next reading  ended up allowing for silence on both sides, serving as a palette  cleanser to some degree due to its quiet nature.

                Devon King came with musical accompaniment. Usually poetry readings don’t include  an entire backing band. They were surprisingly quiet. Percussion and  drones accompanied the reading. I liked the drones a lot; they grew more  and more massive. For me the drones appeared to be well done. At first I  didn’t get why the drums were there, but slowly it began to form a full  whole. Each tap and hit worked against his reading’s tempo. By having  two separate rhythms, it allowed for an extremely weird poetry-music  hybrid. 

                “Sex Hair” began Carrie Lorig’s  reading. Apparently she was born in Poland, studied in Wisconsin, and  has generally been all over. Her poem about horses was enjoyable, as I  have a thing for animal-centric writing. ‘Our flow is hard’ introduced  her poem which she explicitly stated “was not about periods”.  LetPeoplePoems published this wonderful weirdness. Despite being so far,  she had a surprisingly strong performer. “Swamp Gods” celebrated the  rivalry between swamp things. NewWaveVomit got some attention to, as Ana  C hung out in the chat room. Her poems were extremely funny as was her  delivery. Then, in case we weren’t sure if she was a good sport, she  wore a blanket under the drunken audience’s request. 

            Finally, the end drew nigh. The laptop itself ran out of energy as this happened, almost exhausted by the sheer amount of literature it had consumed and shared. We left as virtual guests as the party winded on down into a drunken, debauched haze (or so I imagine). 

                It was totally worth it.

Ear Eater 5

            Shaun Gannon began the marathon Ustream chats. Lately there have been a plethora of these going on, allowing for mere passers-by to become fully engaged. “I am Shaun Gannon” is to Shaun Gannon as “I’m Rick James Bitch” is to David Chappelle. While it is funny, it isn’t all that he offers. Shaun writes other poems as well.  Some of those other poems were read by his geologist friend who got somewhat intoxicated.  Once this ‘pre-gaming’ party ended, we headed off to the next Ustream party. We bounced.  

                Ear Eater 5 came up next. People waited anxiously for it to begin. People began discussing teeth. Cassandra Troyan’s teeth looked great. All of a sudden they broke into song, specifically “I believe I can fly”. The song moved the multiples of people residing in cyberspace. Since this group resides and publishes poetry on the internet, it only makes sense that they would try to interact on Ustream.

                Someone explained to us the importance of unicorns. While we had the beginning, we learned how nice an apartment you can get in Chicago. I feel that it was really strange moment when Ken Baumann read a poem from another laptop. Those in the Ustream listened to him as he read from a remote location. For a brief moment, I realized one of the goals which bring together the boykitten movement. Perhaps more so than any other literary movement, it openly embraces the internet. Most other literary movements usually shun the internet or aren’t as savvy about using it. Boykittens know how to use it. 

                The readings were great. I felt strange watching it from such a far distance. Oddly, my experience with poetry readings in real life are not as good as they are online. Perhaps the poets are more active knowing that they are being judged by an anonymous audience. Anonymity on the internet means it can get a bit harsh regarding the criticism. Some of the criticism is rather crude, but some of it misses the point entirely of the work (see Kat Dixon’s article ‘DadaGate’ as it has been dubbed). 

                Brett Gallagher began with “Vessel”. I liked the reading. Seeing his body’s rotation as he read showed a certain affection and attention to his own work. This sounds silly but a lot of writers tend to treat readings as a formality rather than a performance in and of itself. In this case Brett treats it with proper attention. Considering the sheer amount of words, he didn’t get very tripped up, as if he had practiced this quite a bit. Passion emanated from his delivery, it felt wonderful. Note “Vessel” will be in full-fleshed form at some point in the near future. Look out for it. 

                Online poetry readings bring love. Even those who felt sad in the beginning grew happier as the chat progressed. People merely talking to each other brought joy. Slowly the host Cassandra Troyan and the virtual host Steve Roggenbuck began working in tandem. It can be strange giving attention to two parties happening simultaneously. The two groups began to merge together as bizarre forms of flattery fused the two groups together. ‘Driving Me Wild’ ended up being a major chant of the night. But the next reading ended up allowing for silence on both sides, serving as a palette cleanser to some degree due to its quiet nature.

                Devon King came with musical accompaniment. Usually poetry readings don’t include an entire backing band. They were surprisingly quiet. Percussion and drones accompanied the reading. I liked the drones a lot; they grew more and more massive. For me the drones appeared to be well done. At first I didn’t get why the drums were there, but slowly it began to form a full whole. Each tap and hit worked against his reading’s tempo. By having two separate rhythms, it allowed for an extremely weird poetry-music hybrid. 

                “Sex Hair” began Carrie Lorig’s reading. Apparently she was born in Poland, studied in Wisconsin, and has generally been all over. Her poem about horses was enjoyable, as I have a thing for animal-centric writing. ‘Our flow is hard’ introduced her poem which she explicitly stated “was not about periods”. LetPeoplePoems published this wonderful weirdness. Despite being so far, she had a surprisingly strong performer. “Swamp Gods” celebrated the rivalry between swamp things. NewWaveVomit got some attention to, as Ana C hung out in the chat room. Her poems were extremely funny as was her delivery. Then, in case we weren’t sure if she was a good sport, she wore a blanket under the drunken audience’s request. 

            Finally, the end drew nigh. The laptop itself ran out of energy as this happened, almost exhausted by the sheer amount of literature it had consumed and shared. We left as virtual guests as the party winded on down into a drunken, debauched haze (or so I imagine). 

                It was totally worth it.

“I am Shaun Gannon” Review

Who is this guy? Who does he think he is? Honestly, I don’t know many people who could get away with this kind of performance. Precious few people have the ability to pull it off. This performance does it in spades. He is Shaun Gannon, co-creator of LetPeoplePoems

                I’ve been to a few poetry readings. Usually they consist of a painfully awkward, borderline hermit trying to emit some of their personality in the reading. Or, what is more commonly the case, to speak in as dry a tone as possible. As this goes on, people generally stare into their beers hoping to avoid any painful eye contact. Shaun Gannon does not follow this formula.

                Coming up onto the stage, you know this is going to be a loud performance. You could feel a psychic presence of something loud about to go down. Almost the entire room is filled with his voice as he completely ignores the microphone placed in front of him, that useless instrument explicitly created for the weak and feeble. Microphones are not for Shaun Gannon. 

                Humor is all over the confounded thing. Delivery of each line could not be more perfect. After describing our world in painstakingly bleak language, he then has the punch line of “pretty fucking crappy”. It’s perfect. Somehow he manages to convey the idea that not only is each word capitalized, every single letter is. Translating the caps lock from writing to speaking is no easy task. Shaun Gannon is more than up for the challenge. 

                By using the repeating phrase “I am Shaun Gannon” he creates a specific flow for the poem. When he wants to build up the tension in the reading, he uses the line several times in quick succession. Or, if he wants to punctuate the absurdity of the exercise, he’ll mention how he is the archbishop of the church of Bowie or how we must be quiet. Shaun Gannon cannot be silenced however.

                Some of these lines are fantastic. One of them I don’t want to quote, but I have no choice. You really should listen to him shout them at the top of his lungs. 

                “I am Shaun Gannon and I am your guardian angel but don’t expect me to do much because I hate you.”

               The work builds up so heavily that after a while you get bludgeoned into submission. But you’re fine. Why not have Shaun Gannon announce his presence to the world. Let him tell you about when he first found out about justice. 

                Poets could learn something from Shaun Gannon. Knowing how to deliver material is important. Since you have an emotional connection with it, it in theory should be easy but in practice it is hard. Shaun Gannon doesn’t have this problem. No connection exists between Shaun and his poetry, no; rather Shaun Gannon birthed this half-crazed creature out of the recesses of a demented and strange mind. And the world is better off for it. 

                If there was ever a poetry reading that deserved to go viral, this would be that poetry reading.