Archive for the ‘career’ Category

hyperloco

Monday, April 4th, 2011

Extree! Extree! Read all about it!

I’m writing a music column (er, well, not exactly a column, but writing a bunch of music pieces) for my community newspaper.  Luckily, my community is in Brooklyn and there’s plenty of cool music coursing through.

Now, the paper itself has a decidedly old-school ethos, which basically translates to “there is no website.”  But I had fun writing the pieces, so I wanted to share them with you, so I jury rigged a little online gallery (I guess that’s what it is) of the scans I made of the pages where my writing appears.  To read it, I suggest right-clicking/control+clicking on the images on the page, then choose “view image” and that will open another tab where the pictures are big enough to be read.  Yeah, it’s not nytimes.com, okay?  If it’s all just too much of a pain in the ass to view/read (which is a very real possibility), just take comfort in the fact that it happened, and if you’re walking the streets of Red Hook, be sure to pick up a copy at finer bodegas and booze-houses through the greater Van Brunt area.

And, just a note, I did not name the column.

And props to Devo for her uncredited photo of the band on the front page of the paper, above the fold (just another talent to add to the list).

get it in print

Wednesday, October 6th, 2010

The New York publishing scene’s not so hard to break in to.  You’ve just got to pay your dues.  Or your yellow pages bill:

pay to play

There I am.  Upper left corner.  Under “Associations”:

the big time

What is “The Boroughing,” you ask?  Well, it all started when my girlfriend landed a job slinging yellow pages ads for Idearc Media.  Truly one of the most sickening jobs one could imagine, particularly for someone not generally disposed for a life in sales, particularly not selling ads in the one part of publishing more dinosaur-esque than newspapers.  Convincing businesses to buy ad space in the yellow pages?  Maybe in fucking Timbuktu.  Well, she was working in the Bronx.  But, still…

the bronx is burning... with business opportunities!

Anyway, so she’s not closing many sales, Idearc is monitoring her time on the phone to make sure she’s making the requisite effort (which often meant she would call me and I would pick up and then set the receiver down, allowing the minutes to accrue while I listened to her quietly sobbing on the other end) and meanwhile they close the Bronx office and move shop to Westchester, pushing her commute to the, you know, holyfuckingshit level.  Well, over beers with friends one evening we hatch some harebrained scheme whereby we’ll purchase a series of cryptic ads in the yellow pages to (a) help my gf out with her sales numbers and (b) initiate a new business/secret society/citywide scavenger hunt/mindfuck.  As I said, we were drinking beers.  The name of the project?  The Boroughing.

Well, the next day my gf is at work and alerts me to the fact that, gee, the City Island yellow pages book is closing, like, that day, so if we’re really going to do this thing, I need to sign the contract today.  I was getting the hard sell from my own gf.  And, being the stand-up guy that I am, I followed through (making me the only one out of the previous night’s group to recognize the Boroughing in the sobering light of day).  When it came to the content, I concocted the requisite cryptic ad, aggregating buzzwords from a quick study of City Island’s history, and threw together a logo.  And then, viola, the Boroughing was in print.  It was a reality.  Of sorts.  Was it worth the $300+ I dropped on the ad?  Can you put a price on… whatever the fuck that was?  We never got around to creating www.theboroughing.com, though I did buy the URL.  And we did change the outgoing message on our answering machine to reflect the office of that wonderful “association,” the Boroughing, just in case Idearc should get a bug up their ass to verify that their hotshot new saleswoman was in fact selling ads to businesses and not well-intentioned boyfriends.

standing tall

Fast-forward two months, my girlfriend is laid off by Idearc.  Did she collect the full commission on her sale to me?  Doubtful.

Fast-forward ten months, a new Idearc salesman (one I’m not sleeping with) calls me about renewing my contract for next year’s edition of the City Island yellow pages.  I explain that, unfortunately, the ad has not increased my sales of nonexistent goods and/or services and I would like to cancel the service.  The salesman is understanding.

Fast-forward thirteen months and the yellow pages bill keeps coming.  Frantic at pushing my flushing-my-money-down-the-toilet into a second year, I call Idearc.  After much haranguing (on both sides) it comes out that my contract has been extended an additional three months (which Idearc allows itself to do, by writ of the original contract).  Why?  Because they haven’t closed next year’s book yet.  Are they printing more copies of last year’s book, I inquire?  No.  No, they are not.  But since the new book hasn’t come out, last year’s book (featuring The Boroughing (.com!)) is still the yellow pages of record, and, accordingly, everyone in last year’s book has to keep paying for the privilege, and accompanying avalanche of publicity, of appearing in the yellow pages for another three months (apparently the amount of time necessary to, you know, make the next edition of the yellow pages the very best it could be).

truth in advertising

So, if you should find yourself in City Island, perhaps because of your appreciation of the recent Andy Garcia vehicle, please do pick up a copy of the yellow pages.  And if you find yourself in the market for an imaginary association, be sure to give us a call.

for all your boroughing needs

lives a life of danger

Thursday, July 1st, 2010

So I’ve been working with a sketch comedy group, thanks to my pal Lesler, and we put on a show a couple weeks ago.  I wrote one of the sketches and, being the control freak gloryhound that I am, also acted in the sketch.  It didn’t go off without a hitch, but, shit, what do I look like, Henny fucking Youngman?  Anyway, Devo was able to capture the action zapbruder-style with our digital camera (which isn’t actually a video camera, per se, and has some sort of effect enabled that focuses in on just one color in the scene and makes the rest black-and-white [can you spot the color?]).

hey, lady!

Friday, June 25th, 2010

A new Mr. Judas came out. I managed to get in. Here’s my fave. There was a guest editor. She was pretty cool. Not like that fucking animal they usually have calling the shots.

double whammy grammy slammy

Thursday, October 1st, 2009

So today (probably yesterday by the time you read this) is (was) a pretty busy day for me, getting-published-wise.  I’ve got a wee bit of personal essay on Opium magazine’s website.  It’s about a painting that has been a part of my family possibly for longer than I have been.  In case you’re curious (and for a little behind the scenes action), here’s a photo of the painting:

who's that lady?  *sexy* lady.

who's that lady? *sexy* lady.

Then, as if that wasn’t enough for one day, I got a piece in the Travel section of the LA Times about Cape May, NJ, and the birdwatching and Victorian architecture mecca that it is.

Me tired now.  Me go to bed.

so this is my birthday, and what have i done?

Friday, September 11th, 2009

On 09/09/09 (also known as Wednesday), I turned the big 3-2.  Nothing of particular significance in that milestone, except that it roughly coincided with me landing full-time employment for the first time in over a year (and the first steady gig for me in NYC).

huddle up

huddle up

The job itself is not ideal.  The pay is not great.  The work is not editorial, which was sort of my entire reason for moving here in the first place.  But it is in a bookstore, in fact, the bookstore where I’ve been volunteering for some six months.  So there is some sense of payoff for sweat stains and backaches.  And the bookstore is actually pretty cool, with lots of literary events and concerts (even Bjork).  And it’s a non-profit operation with its sights set on eradicating homeless and HIV/AIDS, so there’s that feel-goodness.  It undoubtedly carries more cache than slinging books at Barnes & Noble or Borders.  And it will help me scratch that nagging itch of “gotta get a job gotta get a job gotta get a job gotta get a job gotta get a job gotta get a job gotta get a job,” which will, in turn, allow me to focus on longer term writing projects such as another book (Deuced 2: Electric Boogaloo?).

the paper chase

the paper chase

And, really, most of my writing life has been spent daily (or nightly) toiling in the salt mines and then cranking out prose in my free time.  A Bukowskian existence of sorts (but without the scarring acne).  It wasn’t until The Los Angeles Times came a’callin’ that I ever smithed words for a well-beyond-livable income.

a fish tale

a fish tale

Which brings me back to birthdays.  September 2007.  The big 3-0 looming large.  A true milestone.  One christened by t-shirts and coffee mugs and knowing looks and nudging elbows and taking stock of one’s life.  I was eying my fourth decade of life saddled with a sizable (though slowly diminishing) credit card debt and a full-time job closed captioning pornography by candlelight (well, at night, anyway).  Not a horrible life, but not a wildly satisfying one, either.  Then, suddenly, my stock shot up.  Just four days before I turned 30, I landed the aforementioned sweet LA Times gig.  A daily newspaper.  A 130-some year old paper.  A fat paycheck.  Debts receded.  Savings ballooned (when you’re starting around zero, ballooning isn’t hard to do).  I was in an office with a bunch of creative people.  Things felt right.  But before I turned 31, I would be out on my ass, thanks to corporate restructuring, executive lunacy, a changing market and a complete lack of foresight.

whos got a tiger by the tail?

who's got a tiger by the tail?

Which brings me to September 2008.  Jobless, heartbroken, humiliated (I understand it was just business,  but the whole affair left me with career blue balls), a 31-year-old me pulled up stakes and headed east to New York City, land of plenty, publishing capital of the world, desperate to parlay my brief tenure at LAT into another sweet editorial gig.  Thanks to the sweetness of my recently departed gig, I had money in the bank and a fat (phat?) unemployment claim, so, while I didn’t land any editorial gigs (sweet or otherwise) thanks to an imploding national/global economy and the continuing downward spiral of the publishing industry, I was able to explore this amazing city, as well as the surrounding majesty of the East Coast (D.C., Balto, Montauk, Mystic, Vermont, Hudson Valley, Chesapeake Bay, Cape May, hey, hey, hey) without fretting too much (though, admittedly, I did find time for some frets).  But man cannot live by unemployment claim (or sporadic freelance gigs) alone.

out to sea

out to sea

Which brings me to September 2009.  After some six months volunteering and taking the occasional lumps at the aforementioned bookstore, I had made a good name for myself (or at least my name was finally known in the bookstore [in truth, that part didn't take six months]) and was tipped off about an employment opportunity with the store.  The first one slipped through my grasp (a part-time gig),  but then an email alerted me to a second, this one  full-time (though, technically, temporary [a three-month prove-your-worth period, which could very well lead to ongoing goings-on]).  I went for it.  I got it.  In this depressed/recessed/shy economy which has seen people living in cars and tents and eating dirt and each other (last two things being totally fabricated), it isn’t so much to ask of me to take a pay cut (even from my unemployment checks) and roll up my sleeves and get some goddam work done.

hi-ho, hi-ho

hi-ho, hi-ho

Besides, there’s always September 2010, when I will turn 33, the age of a crucified Jesus H. Christ.

do you want it?  you gotta want it!

do you want it? you gotta want it!

man bites dog

Wednesday, July 15th, 2009

So I was volunteering at the book store the other day and came across tthe funny book below.  Made of folded-over and stapled-together 8 1/2 by 11 pieces of paper, the publication bore its full original asking price, a seeming indication of lasting value (though my employee discount and a sale that week brought it to a more manageable 26 cents).

Vroom Drive Comix cover

But the book’s retention of value got me thinking about my own foray into self-publishing.  I looked up “Deuced”s ISBN number on Amazon and then entered it into the book store’s pre-screening software.  (The computer tells you whether to keep a book, send it to a different used book retailer who will sell it at a lower price but give us a cut of the loot, or not keep it all; the last option meaning the book in question went into the “TG” box, which meant either “to go” or “total garbage,” depending on your level of cynicism.)

Vroom Drive Comix page 1

I held my breath as the computer processed the number.  Was I a keeper?  Processing, processing, processing (the book store computers are a bit aged).  Then, finally, a response: “Keep it!” (emphasis not in the original).

Vroom Drive Comix page 3

The decision no doubt came from the fact my Canadian publisher insists that everyone make good money off each sale, which means they keep prices high so there’s plenty to go around.  Oh, Canada, your brutal Socialism gives everyone but the consumer a good deal.  My existential horror (paperback) novel bears a bloated list price of $26.50.

Vroom Drive Comix page 4

At my 10 year high school reunion a few years ago, I was hawking my freshly minted tome (a box of which sat in my friend’s car [I was on a book tour, with readings at the St. Paul Literacy Council and a futon shop]) and told an old classmate the price and he said, “That doesn’t sound like a independent novel.”  I guess he’s not familiar with the economics of mass production.

Vroom Drive Comix page 5

But truth be told, it does seem like more of a $10 book.  I think that’s a nice price.  Hell, maybe even $5.  Something nice and simple and in bill denomination.  Amazon, in its infinite wisdom, now offers my book on its Kindle for a mere $7.99.  I just wonder what I get off of a Kindle sale.  I have this sneaking suspicion it’s zero.

Vroom Drive Comix page 6

Anybody have a Kindle?  I hated the idea of them, then started to maybe warm up to the possiblity, then I saw the screen looks like a fucking Gameboy.

War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy

War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy

Lets do the Mario all together now.
Let’s do the Mario all together now.

EXPERIENCED, CONCEPTUALIZED WRITTEN AND (BADLY) BLOGGED

by

PerPearBear

seven dollar hole in my pocket

Thursday, June 11th, 2009

Would you enter a contest hosted by this man:

slick

slick

Well, I did. Here were the rules, but to summarize, the winner was going to be selected on the basis of how much this guy, Brandon Scott Gorrell, “enjoyed” the story. So already we’re playing pretty fast and loose. But still, it was only $7 to enter, and it seemed like a fun, sort of grassroots-y kind of contest, a contest I had found out about by reading up on Tao Lin, a writer whom I discovered at a reading at the charity bookstore at which I would eventually volunteer and be crucified.

dont do me like that

don't do me like that

I like Lin’s work, at least his poetry specifically, and his blog, to which I already linked. He has a really weird sense of humor mixed in with social dysfunction and depression and technology and self-promotion. He’s sorta shameless in focusing on his career as much as his writing, but, hey, that’s the modern writer, right? All Twittered out with Gmail chats and Facebookings. Lin even sold a MySpace page for, like, $8100. Sold “shares” in his next book, made, like, $12,000. Gotta respect the entrepreneurialism. This Brandon Scott Gorrell has a book or two coming out from Lin’s publishing company, Muumuu House and it’s pretty clear he and Lin are thick as thieves, with Gorrell’s writing a pretty good facsimile of Lin’s.

ruh roh

the mentor/protege relationship

So now, taking into account the curious business sense and grandstanding of the Muumuu House crew and the close relationship between Gorrell and Lin, one could’ve potentially seen how this was all going to turn out, especially with the rules’ ambiguous “I will pick the story I enjoy the most” criteria (although, really, isn’t that how every writing contest is decided? i guess this one was tricky because it was just one person doing the deciding) as well as Gorrell’s declaration *somewhere* that he was going to let Muumuu House employees enter. Lin even said he would probably enter, probably use a pseudonym.

putting the pieces together

putting the pieces together

Well, you can see where this is going, and so, yes, in fact, Lin did enter and win, though apparently it was more that he “gave” a story to his girlfriend and then she entered the story under her name. Since it wasn’t under Lin’s name, the argument goes that Gorrell didn’t know that it was Lin and so it’s not like the whole thing was totally fixed. And, besides, Gorrell insisted that he had been upfront and totally explained the rules, the rules that allowed and encouraged these kinds of shenanigans. Anyway, the whole thing ignited a shitstorm on the comments section Gorrell’s blog (which was probably the whole idea, I suppose).

"i'm gonna live forever, baby, remember my name!"

The shit goes on and on, but for the most part, the people who were most angry were people who hadn’t entered the contest, but had just heard about how the contest had turned out. Which does sound like absolute bullshit. But I guess Gorrell laid out the rules, so, really, I guess he’s washed his hands of any wrongdoing, other than being just too fucking cute and clever in the retarded chic that seems to be consuming the younger generation. Really, I am around 10+ years older than most of the other contestants, so I was probably barking up the wrong tree to begin with. All I know is, I may be a little retarded, but, folks, I keep it classy. This shit was not classy.

i believe the children are our future

i believe the children are our future

Anyway, Megan Boyle and Michael Inscoe, a couple other losers from the contest have put up a site to collect any other contest losers who want to display their work (and maybe tug a little promotion for themselves after getting jerked around by Gorrell/Lin/Muumuu). So there you can find “The King,” a story I had originally published in Mr. Judas anyway. The version I submitted to the contest has an abbreviated ending.

self... esteem... shrinking...

self... esteem... shrinking...