backwoods, baby...

you're not from around here, are you?

3 notes

in the limited meandering i’ve done in my lifetime, i’ve learned that you don’t have to be from the Ridge to be hillbilly caliber awesome. i’ve bonded with backwoods bitches all over this great land. and i was lucky enough to run onto another Misti along the way!

i first encountered the work of Misti Rainwater-Lites over at Fried Chicken and Coffee where we both contributed some shit you wouldn’t wanna’ let your Mamaw read. Misti Rainwater-Lites is the author of Bullshit Rodeo and several other works of fiction. She also writes poetry but never refers to herself as a “poet.” Misti maintains a blog called Chupacabra Disco and plays with Barbies and her vibrator in San Antonio, Texas.

here’s an example of one of her poems. when i commented on how much i liked the title, the response was just as good! the anti-poet’s apt description is the best introduction -

Goddamn tired of those dead white men words. Here’s this:”

BACON BRITCHES

I. Leaves of Howl

Go surfing then. God. Go surfing where the waves aren’t too fierce and get struck by Gulf Coast lightning and wake up in Angel Pussy Heaven with the one woman designed expressly for you. She’s blonde. Yes. Her eyes are blue. God yes. Guerra. Creamy skin. Enormous breasts. But they’re natural. And you’re the only man who has ever caressed them kissed them fallen asleep on them dreaming of the sweetest cream your tongue has ever tasted. God. She’s for you. A living breathing sighing doll. I’m dead and buried in barrio dirt. Satan’s bitch. Slobber all over my paws. I won’t get up. I look back. Yesterday I was your pup, ya dig? Forget it. This happens everywhere and all at once to women who alternate begging with snarling. Thank you for the bone.

II. Leaves of Howl

All those nights you were asleep and dreaming of sharks that protected you from high-maintenance mermaids I was tearing the trailer apart searching for Benadryl, tequila, guns, knives some kind of proof that I existed and you were glad.

III. Leaves of Howl

"It wasn’t meant to be," you say. I say something else. I say this in between coffee sips and banana bites: True love is a mutual exchange of energy. Love is a true energy exchange of mutual. Mutual is. Love. Energy. True. Exchange. With the pocket change I walk to Goodwill and buy the pair of britches that will make you say,"Goddamn. I was blind all along. She ain’t no stinky ass bitch. She’s the guardian of mi corazon!" Oh love oh true oh you oh god. I was never the whore the thief the fraud the clod of dirt you mistook me for and I was never her the first and only woman to grab and smash your heart.

IV. Leaves of Howl

p.s. I’m still walking the planet not too fit in my two sizes too small bacon britches. Wal-Mart keeps watching me and taking notes. When the cops arrive I’ll be in Mexico drowning in cerveza. If Zeta bullets find me don’t worry, Papi. It was all part of Daddy God’s plan.

Filed under poetry Misti Rainwater-Lites backwoods bitches

5 notes

Anonymous asked: Faulkner, yay or nay ?

frankly, Faulkner…

meh.

same goes for ol’ Big Poppa Hemmingway, too.

those two fellers were always so busy sword fighting. and neither of their styles has ever really grabbed ahold of me and gotten to me in that gut-deep connection kinda’ way.

over the years, i’ve found i’m more of a Steinbeck kinda’ gal. of course he’s a lauded part of the big, burly, American cannon nowadays, but once upon a time he was a young author struggling in the shadow of Willie and Ernie. in fact, the older authors were quite critical of Steinbeck and his success. especially Hemmingway. but Steinbeck wasn’t a hater! he was a thinker. he was introspective and reflective and i believe this quote goes a long way in summing up why i like the way he looks at the world in general and the writing world, specifically  -

"In my time, Ernest Hemingway wrote a certain kind of story better and more effectively than it had ever been done before. He was properly accepted and acclaimed. He was imitated almost slavishly by every young writer, including me, not only in America but in the world. He wrote a special kind of story out of a special kind of mind and about special moods and situations. When his method was accepted, no other method was admired. The method or style not only conditioned the stories but the thinking of his generation. Superb as his method is, there are many things which cannot be said using it. The result of his acceptance was that writers did not write about those things which could not be said in the Hemingway manner, and gradually they did not think them either."

image

Filed under Steinbeck Hemmingway Faulkner writers dicks

2 notes

Commonwealth Curiosities

'member my filmmaker friend Steven Middleton? turns out he’s having some technical difficulties and could use your help finishing up his most recent documentary! so skip your fancy ass latte today and contribute a couple bucks to a good cause.

or at least be a pal and pass it around!

Filed under kickstarter documentaries Appalachia Eastern Kentucky State Run Media Productions

5 notes

maybe i was Mae West
in a real recent past life.
All curves
and sly smile
and a raunchy wit run rampant.
maybe the universe is trying
to tame her down.
stranded bombshell in the backwoods,

not even reborn blonde.
just a home grown, home wrecker
who can’t quite get ahead
in a world
with such sharp edges.

it pisses me off
(Mae off?)
to squint at the signs
in hindsight.
it wasn’t subtle.
bad dreams
with vivid details
and a loud painting
of what might have been
a yellow hen
scratching across a bright, pink background.
the penance

proves to be
asking for the answers
and receiving them
and ignoring them.
scratching and clawing
to prove the stars wrong
out of spite.
image

Filed under poetry personal past lives lucky at cards unlucky at love

24 notes

Never Get Out Alive

if you click that link up there, you can watch a documentary by a good friend of mine and the driving force behind State Run Media Productions, Steven Middleton. Never Get Out Alive is a thoughtful look at death and dying in Appalachia and I think y’all will enjoy it.

Steve and I go way back. like, small-town, high-school way back. i’ll never forget that art class portrait of Regan he did in pointillism back in the day. we always clicked, bein’ quirky, angsty, teenage types in a redneck town. and i’m tickled we’ve managed to stay in touch over the years and that i’ve been able to keep up with his work. when i asked Steven to tell me a bit about how he got started as a documentarian in the backwoods of Eastern Kentucky, here’s what he had to say -

I started making documentaries around 2007. I always loved old TV shows, and movies. I was inspired oddly enough from the Tim Burton movie Ed Wood. In the film that showcases the acclaimed “worst director of all time” the main character Ed Wood uses a rag-tag crew to make movies. As a young man I found the films premise so cool! I started wanting to make movies. When I was an undergrad I found it very difficult to produce narrative films. For one reason or another the project would have problems and always would fall through. It really wasn’t until I saw the documentaries by Werner Herzog Grizzly Man, and Erroll Morris’s Vernon, Florida that I thought to myself Hey I can do this! So I started trying to make documentaries. I wanted to try to do pieces on things around the Kentucky and Appalachian areas that were a little off the beaten path so to speak. I have made 6 documentaries with a wide range of topics. I have done pieces on Appalachian pro-wrestling, Zen Buddhists, tobacco farming, Junk/scrap dealers, death and dying, old time string band music and now roadside attractions. I have had the great honor of winning the 2010 best short film at the Appalachian Film Festival, and having my documentaries showcased at the Hot Springs International Film Festival, Vesak International Film Festival, and the Louisville International Film Festival. Three of my documentaries have been shown on KET Kentucky’s PBS affiliates. I have always produced these documentaries knowing that I wouldn’t make any money from them. I just hope to try to document something that the common people might just overlook if they aren’t paying attention closely. Living in eastern Kentucky I have always had an interest in the cultural unique habits of Appalachians. Especially those Appalachians who lived before satellite TV, and McDonalds came to town. I have tried very diligently to capture these cultures and peoples as best I can before they all disappear in a pop culture super nova.

bravo, buddy! keep on thwarting that damned ol’ super nova.

Filed under documentaries Appalachia filmmaking Ronald Regan

1 note

submit your best and backwoodsiest shit!

heya writers, this is one of my favorite online sources for some good readin’. in fact, i’ve got a few pieces up there myself. here’s a little taste -

     When the day slips away, the mos­qui­toes come out. And bare skin brings the bugs. Not so far in the dis­tance, she can hear them shak­ing off stag­na­tion among the cat­tails and she wishes wist­fully that her jeans weren’t shoved down around her ankles. The buzzing comes drift­ing to her even over the bland and labored breath against her eardrum. The buzzing comes over the stink of Skoal spit pool­ing in the del­i­cate pit where her shoul­der meets her neck. The fran­tic beat of the winged cloud ris­ing from their cool roost in the moist mud is loud, louder. Loud­est. And the coun­try air is clear, car­ry­ing the sound of the insects unob­structed. Aside from a fer­vent grunt and an echoed, half-ass, half moan. It occurs to her vaguely that they want her blood. Mos­qui­toes are party par­a­sites, she thinks. They live short and drink hard, ten days to exist and to fuck and to die….

Filed under Appalachian literature rural literature submissions writing opportunities