Deep Fried Pepsi. Nacho Rating. Lahiri. Matt Bell. Paxil.

Went to the Indiana State Fair yesterday for some Deep Fried Pepsi. It tasted like the sun hiding behind a pit bull, per usual. I drank two.

The fair was ninja warrior

was goth kids clinging hands as they searched the unknown in each other.

was wonderful authentic carnies.

was secondhand lunar.

was all Poetry Bear. I like Poetry Bear (Justin Marks). I like to read blogs and write blogs and think about airplanes.

Friday feels low and large, kinetic, the thrum of turbo props, through the leather seat, legs, thighs; and Poetry Bear gazes out over the Atlantic and can hardly believe—the tops of the clouds are dancing meringue. Miles above life, sipping cold white wine. Oysters from a silver tray. On itsway to America, Hollywood. Is it real? Yes. All of it. When Howard Hughes pilots an airplane across the world, you get onboard.

“Selznick wants to see you.” He smiles and takes Poetry Bear’s hand. “He’s been watching you. He’s a big fan. We all are. Told him I’d come get you; I don’t mind. I’d fly anywhere, anytime. Besides, I think you have the finest bone structure I’ve ever seen. You want a cigarette? A glass of vodka? You ever been upside down? Climb aboard, my lovely Bear. I’m going to get you upside down.”

I forget what it feels like to sit cross-legged in front of a store while reading South American novels.

I forget how to properly catch crawdads.

Or what I ate for lunch at the fair…

Nacho Rating: Indiana State Fair, booth # 32 B (chef/server named “Clyde”):3 of 10. Disappointing here. Possibly the worse fair nachos I have experienced since Rhode Island. No quality nachos exist in Rhode Island. Mostly because I eat in Portuguese restaurants. Portuguese food is bland and often served with sticky red wine. If–a big if–you can get a Portuguese chef to even create nachos (I have, seven times by my journal, but it took cash, and once me detailing the prep with written instructions), they will go Latin (adding pulled pork and fried potato chips) most every time. I prefer my nachos sans intelligent pig.

First, Clyde placed the primary tortilla layer carelessly, with no real thought to breakage, symmetry, or topping vectors. He actually held a chicken-on-a-stick in his left hand, while situating the nachos with his right. The anxillary layer was a gelatinous cheese. I didn’t see the brand, but it certainly had a processed American feel, and was most likely (considering the Midwest locale) an Advanced Foods Product. It certainly had that sheen. Ugh. The lowest form of secondary, with no real ability to maintain or embellish the structural integrity of the toppings. It also tasted like a turban.

I went Oaxaca with my order (the jalapeños were high Capsicum).

***

Drinking Stories…YOU SHOULD READ:

Matt Bell in Smokelong Quarterly.

***

Apology

Forgive me
for backing over
and smashing
your red wheelbarrow.

It was raining
and the rear wiper
does not work on
my new plum-colored SUV.

I am also sorry
about the white
chickens.

–F.J. Bergman

***

In the news

1.) A good way to win awards is to write about teen angst.

2.) Novelist says John Edwards gives “half-ass apologies.”

3.) Jhumpa Lahari is going to save the short story.

***

Read an ebook. Read Lamination Colony.

“The Woman Down the Hall” by Lily Hoang.

*

My brother suffers from narcissus tendencies and so keeps asking, “Will you put a picture of me in your blog?”

OK:

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3 responses to “Deep Fried Pepsi. Nacho Rating. Lahiri. Matt Bell. Paxil.

  1. I am looking good

  2. Crazy Cat Cousin

    I thought you were the dolphin.

  3. Nice dolphin.

    What in the H-E-double hockey sticks is a deep fried pepsi??!

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