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A swimmingly excellent novel. I’m Not Saying, I’m Just Saying is a new novel in flash fiction by Matthew Salesses. In 115 chapters, all shorter than a page and some as short as five lines of text, Salesses details a man’s life that is simultaneously falling apart and coming together. A boy who is apparently his moves in with him after the mother passes away. Yet the man continues to juggle two affairs on the side while maintaining a passable relationship with “the wifely woman.” Meanwhile, his career advances, with no discernible effort on his part. Possibly medicated (prescribed and otherwise) into ambivalence, the narrator puts in appearances where and when necessary most of the time, trying to stave off the genuine pain that comes from true engagement. And yet, by taking his poison a thimbleful at a time, the bite eventually seeps in and both the narrator and the reader come to an understanding about his place in the world. Salesses is a husband and a father. His writing has been published widely. Recently, he took the time to share some thoughts about I’m Not Saying, I’m Just Saying with GR. 1) Is it harder or easier to write against type? I can tell you’re a nice guy and a good dad, so what is it like to write about a man who is ambivalent about relationships and fatherhood? I’m not sure whether it’s harder or easier, in general. It’s harder for me to make up someone than to use myself as a character. One thing I like about nonfiction is that I don’t have to worry about how to create fully rounded characters; I only have to worry about how to represent people/myself as fully rounded. The reason to choose fiction over nonfiction is to get at a truth that can’t be gotten at, or can’t be presented, as convincingly in an essay. Which means that in fiction I’m often writing against type, because I want to tell a story, and I don’t generally make a lot of interesting things happen in real life. In this book, that choice meant using the voice of someone more directly conflicted than I am. I could have written nonfiction about my own fear of commitment, but it wouldn’t have been as interesting or convincing (coming from a married man with a daughter) as the story of this narrator, who is deeply afraid and makes choices out of that fear. I guess to answer the question, it would have been harder to write this particular story if the narrator was nicer and a better dad. I’ve never actually seen an Easy-Bake Oven, but I love the myth of it. 2) Flash fiction. Here to stay as a viable format, or something that, in the future, will date all work to 201X? Here since at least Kafka, or maybe oral myths, and here to stay. Also, I remember teachers telling me in undergrad to write fiction that is timeless and would last...
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C’mon, Trader Joe’s People!
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2012 was a pretty great year for shows, but of course, some are way better than others. Here are my top 10! Psychedelic Furs play tiny Maxwell’s in Hoboken, recapturing some of the magic from the first two awesome albums (at least until they play “Heartbreak Beat”). Bruce Springsteen! At Madison Square Garden! My first time seeing Bruce live. Everybody should go at least once and soon. He’s the hardest-working man in showbiz. Swervedriver at Bowery Ballroom. The juggernaut returns! Frontman Adam Franklin is awesome singing in this band and solo. Asobi Seksu at Highline Ballroom. Yeah, man! The coolest band in the world keeps smokin’! Agnostic Front at Warsaw. Three decades along, the veterans show the whippersnappers also on the Power of the Riff bill how it’s done. Asobi Seksu at Brooklyn Bowl. They count again because Yuki sang through a cold for this show. She is like so great! Grimes at Hudson River Park. The show almost didn’t happen due to warnings for a thunderstorm, but Grimes could not be denied. Not my sort of music at all, but from the standpoint of delivering a live show — she killed it! Ringo Deathstarr at Cake Shop. My favorite new band will go on to rule the fucking universe! Public Image Limited at The Music Hall of Williamsburg. John Lydon has a never-ending supply of bile. Corrosion of Conformity at St. Vitus. The Animosity-era lineup is having the time of their lives playing shows, judging by the smiles and jokes. “How’s the weather?” asked singer/bassist Mike Dean. This was about a week after Hurricane Sandy. “Too soon!” yelled back an unflappable audience member. New York. You gotta love it.
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Grand Central Station, one of the busiest terminals in the world, is locked and completely empty. Sandy hammered New York City Monday night. Midtown Manhattan was spared of the worst. We don’t have flooding like other parts of the city, but 39th Street has emerged as the dividing line of the have and have-nots. Of electricity that is. I’m straddling both worlds because while I don’t have power at home, I do at work! Here are some pics from my morning commute. A loss of power doesn’t stop the Korean greengrocer from staying open while nearly all chain groceries and drug stores are closed. One of my favorite burger joints remains closed, but they prepared as most other businesses did by boarding up the doors and laying down plastic to prevent flooding into the below-the-street storage. As a former Cub Scout, I know that in the case of rain (or record hurricanes), the flag should be taken down and stored inside. C’mon, closed post-office people! This Sanitation Dept. big gun is probably headed to the Lower East Side, parts of which are under a few feet of water. Wonder what kind of shape the old GRNY space is in! Not only are our bus lines down, but so are some of the bus signs! Even though the MTA has suspended trains and buses, cars are still assiduously avoiding the bus lanes even though I doubt they’d be fined at this point. No days off for Asians! Most countries have closed their consulates for the day — not the Philippines! The guy’s stepped out for a moment, though.
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Allied Old English is the maker of this fine “sauce,” which is basically sugar! You know, if you’re gonna do it this way, at least make the whole thing in a chinky font. C’mon!
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