Harvey Pekar VIPS on Very Short Fiction, all Dat.

Laura Ellen Scott asked me if I would write something about flash fiction for her VIPS on Very Short Fiction blog. I really dig this site, and the authors she has throwing down about my favorite genre. Flash is coming up now, rising up now, a big-ass CEO of women in bikinis. Etc. Don’t miss this genre. Don’t miss it. Flash fiction is like oxygen bars–people thought it was flaky, but look now!

I said yes to Laura; I said I would write a brief essay. Then I ate dinner with Harvey Pekar. Then I blended the experience into a fiction/nonfiction thing about flash fiction. That’s how I work lately. Take fragments like a FOUND artist and cobble them, hang something all oyster, create anew.

Here is how it begins:

Last night I ate dinner with Harvey Pekar, the famous curmudgeon, underground comic author, the movie star.

I was a little nervous. I don’t know celebrities. My stomach did the runover snake, the chips of flint sparking or maybe Pringles (the crumblets). On the way over I drove my Subaru and drank a tall, cold can of Budweiser. It was about an hour after sundown. The moon was a Canadian quarter. I thought, “This Budweiser will make me talk OK with Harvey Pekar.”

You can read all of the thingy here.

Here is the actual note Harvey wrote for me.


I’ll tell you one thing, this guy is smart and great to talk with. Obviously, he is also kind. He didn’t have to write me a note and come find me and deliver it to my office. Cool guy. I don’t even know that much about his comics (the movie kicked ass), but I’m going to pick up a few and give it a try. Great dude in my book.



6 responses to “Harvey Pekar VIPS on Very Short Fiction, all Dat.

  1. really…your wife can’t stand you?

  2. she hates me, anon, big-time; and what kind of dumb-ass question is that?

    The hyperbolic tone of the piece should make clear: Harvey and I were sharing a joke.


  3. wait. so you really had dinner with Pekar?

  4. p.s. great piece, by the way.

    you know? i can really feel my aesthetic changing of late. like FEEL it. it’s sort of like a fish flopping around in my lungs, or rib cage, or left ventricle. isn’t the left ventricle the most dangerous if it goes into fib? v-fib or something like that? i think that’s what Didion’s husband died from. v-fib.

  5. had a bad/good teaching moment last night, where I was trying to convince the student to be more generous with his concept, but then I had to stop and admit that your entry on the blog gave the opposite advice.

  6. Pingback: Killing the hobgoblins. « .the idiom.

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