« Posts tagged recovery

National Poetry Month Continues : with Justin Chin

Back When I Knew Who I Was 

i was content to spend my afternoons
wondering what co-dependent meant
not realizing that those lazy
humid daylight hours was better  
spent figuring out the physics
of dependency and codeine dreams

back when i knew who i was
i was much better than i ever thought i was
i could conjugate fuck like nobody’s business
       fuck me, fuck you, fuck it, fuck him, fuck her
       fuck them, fuck yourself, holy fuck, goddamnfuckit

i could shovel dead pets off the driveway
     that my aunt ran over on her way to choir practice
     and not shed a single tear
i could choke down every family fight about money,
every caning that would come for no reason after those fights,
every time we were forced to go to my rich relatives for dinner and we’d
find ourselves in the kitchen cooking and doing the dishes.

i believed i knew the meaning of alcohol
i believed i knew how to get out of every scrap
i believed i wasn’t gonna make 25
i believed in 18 molecules of carbon
21 molecules of hydrogen
3 oxygen and one fab nitrogen
all in a sweet mixture enough to make me
feel like jennifer beals in flashdance
twirling my ass
in front of the snotty audition,
praying for a stinking place in 
the dance-a-thon of actuality

back when my balls were the size of brazil
and my ego was the size of the antarctica
and my courage was the size of phlegm
i learned to trust few people
learned to want little
and to need even less
i learned to say “FUCK IT”

with such ease and venom
the most cynical rattlesnake
would have its underbelly turn emerald
in two seconds flat.

you could wake to find yourself in some sweet danger,
in some piss-flavored version of addiction
designed to make up for lost time,
lost ideals, lost lovers, lost causes, lost saviours
but -shit- these days,
all i find is myself back when i was
back in the conga line of perpetual desire
the territory of an incessant need
i crave my one habit of a good man
and i want to secede from
the grip of addiction philosophy,
from the colony of “i should’ve known better”

fuck that 12-step thing, i say,
i like to keep my options open
and i like having the option
to get absolutely fucked up
when i feel like it,
and not feel like i fucked up, dammit.

do things change that much?
can some stupid sign from the almighty
whip you right around?
maybe i should be looking for visions of jesus
in billboards of spaghetti sauce,
visions of buddha in men’s semen,
maybe i’ll be a much better person
if i knew who i was when i knew who i was
but who the fuck do i think i am?
i can’t even piss straight into the bowl,
can’t even tell my lover that i want to cook him
breakfast for the rest of my life,
can’t even cross against the light,
     (ooh, walk to the light, walk to the light….)
can’t pay my bills on time nor balance my checkbook
can’t dance, can’t mosh,
can’t get fucked up like i used to, not that i want to anyway
can’t take it like a man, whatever that means.

all i can is kiss who i was
back when i knew who i was
goodbye, one great big tongue smooch
and wish him a good journey
as he walks to the light
and falls off the edge of the earth
and into a peaceful hell.

i’ll meet up with him later.

Justin Chin, from Bite Hard
     Manic D Press, 1997

»Read More

Cottonmouth Kisses Review — The Bellingham Herald

July 23, 2000

with mad gratitude to Ara Taylor

Cottonmouth Kisses, Clint Catalyst

Either click image to enlarge,
or

http://picturepush.com/public/4729559

»Read More

In Circulation: Two New Stories

&
nope, of clicky-links to URLs with disappearing ink I do not speak. Au contraire, I’m talkin’ bout publications— the tactile experience of fingertips brushing against pressed paper.  The tender crease of a spine. The stink of ink spiraling up one’s nostrillus maximus & connecting with receptors in the limbic area, stimulating electrochemical signals.

My favorite words come bearing risk of paper cuts


Vorsicht! Consider yourself hereby forewarned:
it seems I’m particularly fond of italics this fine day…

All/Same

Royal Proclamation Number One:
(a fanfare is appropriate)

The latest issue of the rad-ass, bad-ass literary journal Gertrude

is OUT—&
includes my short story “Sugar Rush”: a tribute to
C U L I N A R Y . P E R V E R Y

That’s right, baby—we’re gonna get baked, & then you get  C a k e d…

 


A H E M !
So anyway

[from the publishers]:

“To commemorate this milestone release [issue 15 of Gertrude],we put out a call for writing & visual art
that explores, celebrates or subverts queer stereotypes. ‘The Gay Issue’ represents the diversity & talent
of the LGBTQA community.”

¤ THE PARTICULARS ¤
80 perfect-bound pages of flamboyant wit, 19 verse-slingers serving noteworthy lit, &
seven shades of wickedawesome visual artistry on eight full-color inserts that
one prancy fagocytosist went way gay over, on the tip of the APA
that’d be numbers & statistics; thank.you.ever.so

featuring

Michelle Auerbach, David Brennan, Wayne Bund, Clint Catalyst, Nicole J. Georges,
Jeremy Halinen
, Daniel W.K. Lee, Kirsty Logan along with nine other lesbi-luminaries &
rump-wranglin’ Cult Icons-In-The-Makin’ that any cool-enough-to-singe-flesh-upon-contact
member of the cognoscenti c/should expect to find included among the impeccably-edited
roster of a journal esteemed as such/such as this…

Nonetheless, not unlike the dry ice to which I alluded a mere skip backwards o’er single perioddical: that’s a
scavenger hunt I’ll leave for you & your ducats to embark upon, darlin’

G E T ± S O M E

 

[though as an ápertif, an excerpt of my story]:

As the adage goes, ‘A Don’t Is A Delicious Invitation To Do.’  In the sexual practice known as “caking,” it’s particularly true.

I can’t take credit for coming up with this deviation of the old in and out, though unlike the lot of other subversive acts referred to as the stuff of urban legend—the Dirty Sanchez, Blumpkin, Cleveland Steamer, Chili Dog, et al—I’m honored to say I can vouch for its point of origin, and am a mere one degree of separation from its source.

“Caking” came about during the darkest days of that carb-counting craze when solo patties of beef were the new burger, and a demeanor bitter as Susan Atkins was the new black. It was socially acceptable to have breath that smelled like a fresh slaughter, so long as we weren’t seen consuming anything in a public setting that bore even the faintest traces of Evil Incarnate: refined sugar.

 

:: yes bitches, shit gets good up in thurr ::

However!
THIS IS NOT OVER YET

Royal Proclamation Number Two:
(not only/but also)

Baby, I’ve Got Some More Good Word For You…

From the publishing house, social network & international non-profit, Little Episodes—an organization that “promotes the arts as a therapeutic tool & platform to incite empathy and understanding”—comes the anthology Brainstorms


© Little Episodes Publishing, 2010 • ISBN 978-0-9565003-1-1 • Edited by Fawn Neün

“featuring work by Melvin BurgessTodd SwiftSadie Frost, Nina Antonia & Clint Catalyst, Brainstorms is the second volume in the ‘Expression of Depression’ series, a collection of poetry & short fiction from established & emerging talent.”

[from Little Episodes founder Lucie Barât]:

“The launch of our second anthology is a statement of intent. We aim to de-stigmatise depression and promote compassion & understanding rather than fear and embarrassment. The opportunity to create and subsequently publish art will give people a sense of well-being which could aid in their recovery.”

&
[from the printed matter]
an excerpt from my short story “Breaking Up With Tina”:

Whenever I hear recovery folks recite the slogan that their ‘worst day sober is still better than [their] best day using, ‘ I can’t help but feel my eyes rolling.  For that I have four words: They Needed Another Dealer.

Oh!  & H-e-ey Old-Schoolers, spot check how that paragraph comes to a Grinding Halt:

…And in the words of The Cure’s vocalist, Robert Smith, the further I got from the things I care about, the less I cared about how much further away I got.

MMM-HMMM,
G E T ± YOURS

order now

H E R E :: via ::  H E R E

&
peek at the back flap*
down…

»Read More

Review of Cottonmouth Kisses — Bizarre Magazine (UK)

April 2001


[ Many thanks to Cathi Unsworth
and, of course, to Bizarre magazine ! ]

»Read More

New Short Story/Anthology Exclusive Out Now!

In the premiere release from Little Episodes, an international collaborative art project:

(Click Image Above To Order)

:: information about ::

“Depression, addiction and mental illness are common problems in the modern world, with one in four people likely to experience a mental health problem every year. Established in 2009, Little Episodes is a not-for-profit organization consisting of professional writers, artists, musicians and actors with two prongs to its mission statement. The first, to destigmatize depression, addiction and mental illness, whilst raising awareness and providing empathy. The second is to provide a platform for talented, emerging and established writers/artists to find community and recognition. We combine the two by giving our participating writers and artists the first statement as their theme.”

Founded in the U.K., Little Episodes also curates ‘Late Night Episodes,’ a recurring event featuring spoken word, performance, music and visual art.  Late Night Episodes is held at the Novas Contemporary Urban Centre (London) on the last Saturday of every month.

»Read More

CFF – Two Awards For Catalyst In 2008

“Renaissance Man Of The Year” and “Author With Most Anticipated New Release” from outré arts journal CFF

(Oh, and about that ‘new release’? I’m getting a bit impatient myself, thankyouverymuch…)

»Read More