Marfa

A few weeks ago we went to Marfa. I'd never been and I have always heard stories about the Marfa lights and the cool, hippie, art town Marfa was. I used to work for a medical contracting company and I had to do one of many networking breakfasts. The very first breakfast I went to, I spoke to only one person. He was a truck driver and he raved about the weirdness of "some city out west" where there was a Prada shop in the middle of nowhere. I didn't know what the hell he was talking about; I just figured truck drivers know everything.

Anyways, Nina and I stayed in a safari tent at El Cosmico in Marfa. It was sunny every day and it rained every night. You'd think the sound of rain would keep you up at night but I was sucking my thumb within ten minutes of the start of the downpour. It was wonderful.

I told myself I would get a lot of writing done but that didn't happen. Sometimes you just need a vacation from everything. Marfa provided.

I learned a lot at El Cosmico.

Weekly Weird Monthly released its first chapbook called My Beard Supports Nothing by Zachary Locklin. It is very good and you should buy it here. Zachary Locklin is a very talented poet and writer. I first published his poems in my short-lived California zine Beggars & Cheeseburgers and we've been friends ever since. His miniseries, War Shark: Fuck Yeah!, was a hit on the even shorter-lived Slagdrop but Weekly Weird has plans to revive that sucker along with some other great projects with the one and only Zachary Locklin.

Next up from Weekly Weird is our chapbook of short stories dedicated entirely to SPAM so be on the lookout. It's coming soon.

As far as my own writing goes, it's coming along. I'm really getting into the meat of my novel and I should be done relatively soon. Some short stories are coming out through various websites/anthologies but I'm not sure when. When they do come out, you can be sure I'll be linking the hell out of them.

Goodnight.

New happenings

Yo.

Here's a quick little post to tell you everything that's happenin' in the Hilbert world.

First!

The One Page Salon at the one and only Whip-In in Austin, TX. Click here for the event page. Jason Neulander of Intergalactic Nemesis fame will be hosting and I'll be reading one page from my work in progress, Invasion of the Weirdos. It starts at 7pm.

Second!

I've had some acceptances recently, none of which are yet posted anywhere but I'll tell you about them here.

Out of the Gutter's Flash Fiction Offensive accepted my story, Texas Cockfighter. The title is self-explanatory, really. I'll update and annoy everyone when it gets posted.

Dark Corners Press accepted my story, Voice of God, about a kind of demonic possession. I'm very excited to get into this new press's first release that's due out in September.

Foxing Quarterly is releasing a Green Ranger fanzine called Forever Green and they accepted my true story of love and jealous called, Nice Armor, Tommy. That will also be released in September.

Third! And! Last!

I worked my last shift at the one and only BookPeople on Tuesday. BookPeople is staffed by the hardest working, most talented creatives, and smartest folks I know. When I first moved to Austin, I didn't have any hope of a job. I applied at BookPeople and hassled the hiring manager like crazy about the status of my application. Looking back, that was dumb. They hired me anyways and it was the beginning of me building a community in Austin. My best friends and best creative collaborators work or have worked there. Support your local bookstore and buy a goddamn book from them sometime, will you?

I'm on to other things now and I'm juggling a ton of projects at once so, onward!

The Weekly Weird Monthly Totally Nubs Out For Spiced Ham

The Weekly Weird Monthly was born out of the need to do creative things. Lots of creative things with absolutely no care for the fact that it is not an absolutely cohesive idea. 

It started with random comics written by me and drawn by Jack Arambula. The name of the project was a joke about how infrequent and randomly it would be updated. It moved onto weird video projects like Eating & Reading and Andrew's Cooking Show (with a hell of a lot more weird video projects to come).

It is now taking on another form that was totally inevitable. It's no secret that I love print. When I lived in California, I was a co-founder of Beggars & Cheeseburgers and I left right as it was learning how to walk. Not only was it learning how to walk but lots of people started caring to watch it learn. It was growing and then I cut it down at the knees when I moved. Issue 3 (which we called Dinner) was released while I lived in San Antonio and Issue 4 (Fourthmeal) was being curated and getting ready to print. 

Working halfway across the country on an exclusively print project was hard and it finally collapsed under its own weight. We were doing weird stuff and when it comes down to it, Jack Arambula and I only do weird stuff. 

The next step was building Slagdrop but there were too many ideas and not enough execution. The only mega-thing we did was Slagdrop Presents America... You're Welcome! and I really see that as the spiritual mother to the print projects the Weekly Weird Monthly is taking on. Let's not get it wrong, Slagdrop was a good idea. Everyone involved was talented but we were all over the place. My center of gravity was to be weird and, without any design at all, Slagdrop collapsed on itself. 

The Weekly Weird Monthly won't collapse on itself. It's designed to be an evolving monster. Content will be on the internet and in print. Each medium will dictate the content as opposed to trying to throw everything in every direction. It also won't collapse because I see it as my baby. It's a baby that is taking a village to raise. The other baby-raisers are: Jack Arambula, Nina Barker, Cheryl Couture, and Chris Mattix.

Enough blah, blah, blah. The Weekly Weird Monthly is going to release a print and eBook chapbook called Weekly Weird Monthly Totally Nubs Out For Spiced Ham. 

We also have a number of other print projects in the pipeline from some of our favorite writers, poets, and artists. 

Just you wait. It's going to be great.

Just so you know

Yeah, I can dance.

Internet study: Photos of feet

The selfie is a crime against humanity I have learned to live with. You want to take pictures of your face as if the whole world is excited to be your mirror? Fine. Do it. It's an immutable law of the universe by now.

Have you noticed pictures of people's feet becoming the new thing? Sometimes people will take a photo of the ground with their really trendy shoes in frame? Or someone's vacationing and they take a great shot of the scenery with their feet in it? I can't do it anymore. Your face was bad enough but at least the face has evolved to be pleasant enough to look at.

What is with these photos? Is it a declaration of relaxation to the world because I know for a fact that some of those angles are damn hard to get a foot in but there it is, a foot to be looked at by a stranger. A barefoot against an ocean backdrop; am I supposed to marvel at the beauty of God's design or look at the ocean? How can I decide when I'm distracted by a perfectly footish foot?

Sometimes people take pictures of the ground which, by itself is weird, but they always make sure to have their shoes barely peeking out at the edge. Why? To remind us they are there? To give us perspective on which way the camera is pointed as if we were too stupid to be trusted with the conjecture that since the ground is down, the photographer must be looking down with the camera lens pointed down. You know what? Fuck it, let me just put my feet in it so no one confuses the sidewalk with the sky.

I'm in a hotel room. Such great hotel art!

This photo pretends to be about the shag carpeting but really it's a cheap ploy to get you to compliment my socks. 

Totally on vacation. Notice my foot relaxing.

To really illustrate my point about the ridiculousness of these photos, I enlisted two people to take pictures of me taking pictures of my feet.

Below, a picture of a foot with a great view. You might find this on anyone's Facebook profile who is vacationing or who just wants you to be jealous that their view isn't marred by a Whataburger.

But below we can see that I am actually not at all relaxing. To get the perfect foot shot I had to suspend my body in a way that could only temporarily defy gravity before my nonexistent ab muscles gave out and I broke my ass on the carpet.

Below you can see a foot shot of Nina taking a picture of me taking a foot shot. 

Is my complaining about this social media phenomenon just a sign that I am growing older and will soon yell at kids to get off my lawn? Maybe. Is the fact that I'm writing about social media phenomenons a sign that I'm an out of touch youth writer for the New York Times? I wish.

Today I went into Target and couldn't buy a button up shirt in the men's section because they all appeared "too youthful." Then I passed by the kid section and all of their button up shirts had designs that an old curmudgeon could appreciate. No prints of dancing tacos, no prints of fish flying out of the water, just straight-up plaid with colors that matched. Men try to dress like boys and boys try to dress like men. 

There's no place for this bearded, bespectacled dickhead in a Target. 

Unrelated: Look! A new Eating & Reading!

World cup recap for any 0-0 game

That one guy did that thing with his feet, connecting to the ball and it went far but the other team got it and did a foot thing, too. The other team got it and did some feet stuff and ran around for awhile.

It went back and forth like that for a couple of minutes until someone kicked it near that net post but the guy in front of it caught it with his hands. HANDS! HANDS, PEOPLE.

Whistles were blown and stuff, people cheered, and both teams kept doing more foot stuff.

The guy not on any team pulled out a yellow card and half the crowd made sounds similar to booing while the  half cheered in a language I couldn't understand.

I've always heard American commentators were amateurs but I found nothing wrong with them tirelessly retelling everyone's trying stories about being able to play soccer professionally while still holding jobs down at Target to pay for their fancy haircuts.

You need good legs to play soccer but you need a better haircut, so they say.

The Dumb Ass's Guide to the World Cup 2014

This is America. We don't know anything about soccer. The only thing I know about soccer is that when the World Cup came to America in 1994, I could buy a Happy Meal at McDonald's and get some country's flag pin.

Even as a child, I pretended to like soccer and flag pins just to eat unlimited chicken nuggets and BBQ sauce (this was before the ten cent upcharge on "extra" sauce packets.)

So, you and your friends want to be super worldly and Euro. I get it. I present to you, the Dumb Ass's Guide to the World Cup 2014.

My favorite pastime. Just ask Nina. 

1. When saddling a bar stool, say, "Hey, barkeep! Why aren't any of these many televisions playing La Copa Mundial?!" Always say La Copa Mundial with the same fervor Americans insist on calling futebol soccer. That'll show everyone around you that you are a person who loves nuance. 

2. Similarly, pronounce Brazil with a hard 's.' 

Example: "Can you believe the corruption of the BraSilian government in BraSil? Spending billions of dollars on a silly game that I insist on watching despite my interest in the plight of poor people I'll never see." This absolves you of all participation. Admitting the World Cup is a waste of money automatically allows you to watch it guilt-free. 

3. Say you love America and immediately negate that by actually watching soccer. 

4. Every conversation has to start with, "I hate sports but I love soccer." This is required of every American soccer watcher. You also say, "I don't even own a TV," in the middle of every conversation no matter what the topic is. 

5. Proclaim your love of soccer's intense focus on athlete's legs. Why do American sports insist on only showing the upper body? Why can't we focus on clean shaven, sweaty, sweet, sweet, androgynous legs?

6. If you must root for America, pick another team that has a chance better than a tee-totaling asexual at an orgy in Hell. 

7. Always point out that athletes in America (that don't play soccer) aren't even any good at faking injury.

8. Don't ever mix vuvuzela and favela in a sentence. Avoid sentences like, "Favelas are so annoying. They scream out, 'look at me! I can make noises in my mouth!" and, "I really feel for the plight of the vuvuzelas. It's not right that I sit here and watch this game while the vuvuzelas are marginalized."

9. Bring a really highfalutin French novel to whatever bar you choose to watch the games in. You'll be reading a lot of it because we all know soccer is boring as fuck. 

You're welcome.