deleted poem from forthcoming collaborative ebook BROZ II MEN (2012)

Incase you were wondering

Gordon Lish

novels i've finished recently

Christie Malry's Own Double-Entry by B.S. Johnson

what is it: 180 page novel

what i thought: yeah, it was funny, accessible etc. i guess this is like the most famous metafictional novel maybe? it's v self-aware of itself as a novel, to the point where the main character is having conversations with the author about how the novel is progressing. they talk about novels in general. i'm gonna paraphrase a bit here:

'Who wants long novels anyway? Why spend all your time for a month reading a thousand-page novel when you can have a comparable aesthetic experience in the theatre or cinema? The writing of a long novel was relevant to a society which no longer exists. The novel should try simply to be Funny, Brutalist, and Short.'

feel like this novel achieves it's aims. 

Everything's Fine by Socrates Adams
what is it: 188 page novel
what i thought: i think this novel exceeded my expectations. i'm a fan of socrates' writings, from his pangur ban party ebook and other stuff i've read online by him. this novel made me laugh out loud a lot. it reminded me of when i lived on my own and ate a lot of porridge. if you don't like this book you're a dick.

things i've been reading

'Cat' by Alice May Connolly
what is it: ~28 page A5 zine featuring some poems and short stories.
what i thought: this is one of the best zines i've read in a while. nice variety in content. i keep on picking it up and dipping in and out of it. one of my favourite poems is one about the Dalai Lama (and the Christchurch earthquakes (?)) near the middle. the second half of the zine kind of follows a format of v short poems on the left hand page and longer stuff on the right. one of the pages just says 'your topless is giving me an anxiety attack'. feel like i would like to read a 20-page "american short story"-type thing by alice and also a ~90 page poem collection. no pressure alice, just sayin.

The Art of Fiction: Notes on Craft for Young Writers by John Gardner
what is it: ~200 page book on writing fiction.
what i thought: tbh i'm still very much in the middle of reading this atm. feel like i keep on having these revelations while reading this and have probably thought 'why didn't i read this three years ago?' about once every three pages. kinda wish i'd bought this instead of taking that creative writing class with all those middle-aged women where i didn't really learn anything and my tutor said my writing style was "like looking through a window without any curtains". anyway, i guess i'd recommend this book. maybe it depends on where you are as your 'development as a writer' idk. comment if you disagree. or don't. idc.

an excellent life

laurens and i have written a collaborative effort of over 50 poems and short fictions. it will be released by picador in 2013.
we just signed on the dotted line.

sometimes i think about the meaningful relationships
i could have with the girls in ads
on mediafire and pirate bay
like, meaningful, plutonic. they seem relatable.

i will be reading at 'the old market' on 14th march (i think) and 1st april at the next any persan halp me.
more info on the latter closer to the time.

i hope you are all well.

friend request

i am breathing into my coffee mug and warm air is coming back off the surface of the coffee and into my face

i have sold 135 discs to musicmagpie, idk i guess i won't miss them

i haven't written a CV in probably about two years but this morning i became fixated about what i would write if i had to write one now and the ways in which these past seven years have shaped me as a human being, able to take on responsibility, act on ones own initiative etc etc.

i have re-arranged my room and now my bed is just a mattress

Go Home

The phone lit up and vibrated against the surface of the bedside table. He pushed his computer chair backwards and reached for the plastic body, pulling the charger out as he picked it up.

‘Hello?’ he said.

‘Hey,’ she said, drawing out the vowel. ‘So I got to the bus stop and the next one doesn’t come for another 50 minutes.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yeah…’

‘Are you going to walk back?’ he said.

‘I’m not walking back on my own.’

‘Do you not know the way?’

‘And it’s dark.’

‘I can show you.’

‘I know how to get back…’

‘Do you want a beer?’

‘What? Can I just come back to yours and wait for the next one?’

‘I don’t mind walking with you.’

‘How long is it going to take you to get here?’

‘Well, how long did it take you to get there? I’m leaving now, did you want any beer? I think I’m going to get some on the way.’

‘No. Why are you getting beer? Where are you getting it from?’

‘Mulberry’s. You walked past it.’

‘What? Where?’

‘It was like, right on the corner at the end ofmy road.’

‘You’re weird. How long are you going to be?’

‘Like, 5 minutes?’

‘Okay, I’ll see you in 5 minutes then.’

‘Okay.’

‘Hurry up.’

‘I can’t believe you bought beer,’ she said as he approached.

She was waiting underneath a streetlamp that had a bus stop sign and timetable attached to it.

‘Are you sure you don’t want one?’

‘Yeah. I don’t really like it. I think it’slike, a guy thing maybe. I prefer Southern Comfort when getting drunk.’

They began walking up a road that rose at asteady incline.

‘I have seen many girls drink beer. I’m not drinking to get drunk.’

‘Really? I thought I could take advantage of you.’

‘It might have the opposite effect.’

‘On what?’

‘On my penis.’

‘Oh. Oh yeah. Does that happen to you?’

‘I don’t know. Not really, I don’t think.’

‘I don’t think it’s happened when I’ve beenwith a guy. I was drunk once, giving a blow job and I threw up on the bed… He still waved his dick in my face.’

He laughed.

‘Did you carry on?’

‘Yeah. Twice.’

‘Was that with your ex?’

‘No. It was that guy I cheated on him with. Itold you about it.’

They passed houses, terraced continually, never seeming to have sides. Family houses.

‘So have you found anywhere for next year yet?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘Have you?’

‘No… I have a friend who might have a spareroom. I don’t know.’

‘I know somewhere you can live.’

‘Where?’

‘In my pants.’

‘Oh yeah? How much is rent?’

‘£50… No, wait, free. I’m not a whore.’

‘Okay, sounds good. Do you have gas?’ he said.‘Do you have running water?’

‘Shut up!’  she laughed.

‘That was a Samuel Beckett joke,’ he said.

He looked across at her. She seemed to not be listening to what he was saying and was looking across the road or in it’s direction at something, or nothing.

‘Well, the first one. I made up the runningwater bit.’

Their route started to descend and they walked a narrow path that ran through the middle of an allotment site.

‘Is this what you were talking about before?’

‘With the lights, yeah.’

‘“Like a tangled ball of Christmas treelights.”’

‘What?’

‘It’s nice along here.’

‘You can see more in the daylight. Obviously.’

‘Are you going to walk back?’

‘I think so. I can finish this beer then.’

He held up the carrier bag that contained thesecond beer.

‘You can stay over if you want. Did you notbring any condoms?’

‘No. Sorry.’

‘Okay.’ She sighed.

‘Can I use your toilet when we get there?’

GFY

Haven't posted in a while. Soz. Here are some hott vids!!

poem made of top keyword searches for this blog

bad woman like ruffer from other woman bored on the fucking internet 
dungarees argos fucking bored
how do i thank ruffers?
i am fucking bored i'm in the library and really bored im fucking bored on the internet im fucking bored internet

there is a part of me that really wants to blog more

there is a part of me that wants to melt into the sea

i've had a nice time of things lately

here is a list:
a beautiful woman
reading my writing to people i know and don't
meeting people from the internet
watching films made by people from the internet
sharing a set meal at a chinese restaurant with crispin best <3<3<3 (i guess other people were there too)

i also made a tweet of something from fb which seemed funny at the time but then was retweeted by someone who the tweet may have offended and i then suffered embarrassment/paranoia i had offended them...

sorry life!

i'm waiting for the r. stevie moore documentary on youtube to load.

okay, i think maybe it's loaded now.

i'm gonna watch it.

full staps........

Any persan HALP me write up

Last night I read some stuff at a bar called Sticky Mike's Frog Bar. Some other people read as well. Some music was played. Some films were projected onto a wall. Most people drank alcohol. Everyone was boosted. Apart from the two middle-aged dudes in super-hero outfits. They did not seem boosted at all.

Here are some videos from the event.










I read like a "remix" version of Charles Mingus as well as Beige Slacks. Forgot to take copies of Charles Mingus with me. There are still copies left. I will still send one to anyone anywhere.

Thanks to Laurens for putting on the event as well as reading. Thanks to Vicki for also reading. Thanks to Steve for making a sweet video. Looking forward to the next one.

gonna read some of my dumb shit at this.

http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=167803556634895


oct 2nd.
should be good.
bring ur own butt.

hi,
making another post.
new story up at shallow. shallow is edited by zachary whalen and has loads of really good writing.
i woke up at 4 this morning. on purpose.
feel mental.
there's a fireplace in my room and i feel like the chimney is going to cave in.
okay, going to go work for 12 hours now.
bye x

A short story by me about Blaise Pascal went up at For Every Year today.


I am wearing the same clothes I wore yesterday.
I have to get up early tomorrow.
I don't know what I'm doing.

people google bored

I have a review of my Pangur Ban Party ebook 'Oslonians' up at We Who Are About To Die here: http://wewhoareabouttodie.com/2011/08/30/giles-ruffer-on-giles-ruffer/

It's the first in a cycle of self-reviews of Pangur Ban Party ebooks. I am looking forward to reading more of these.

Thanks DJ and Ani Berndt-Smith.

Also, in case anyone missed it, Susie Anderson and Stacey Teague have done a podcast where they read words by loads of really awesome people and also a blog post I made a while ago. They also mention Oslonians and my free mini-chapbook Charles Mingus. They are great people.
Go here: http://vehementoolbox.blogspot.com/2011/08/people-are-just-podcasts-5.html
Open every single link on that page in new tabs and make today the best day of your life!

eat the leftover bread with the old tin of soup

I'M FUCKING BORED OF THE INTERNET

edit: wrote this while drunk. now it is morning and i'm not drunk. i think i'll leave it as it is though.

Tomorrow is a bank holiday. This is the reason I will write this. This is the reason that earlier I went to the library. I was going to go to the library tomorrow to print some things off and do some work but because of the bank holiday and the library being closed, I went this evening. I was going to get the train, looked up the train to get and started walking. But when I got to the station the train had just pulled in: I had no time to get on the train or buy a ticket. The next train was in half an hour so I went to the nearest bus stop and got on a bus. I hailed the first bus that came along and, a it pulled into the stop, I realised it was the wrong one. I apologised to the driver and he said nothing as the doors closed and the bus left. The bus arrived shortly afterwards. The campus is slightly out of town and the bus takes a turn into it just as the motorway starts. Sign-posts next to the side of the road showed in diagrams something that happened to the road. Orange lights, bent over. The bus pulled in and I crossed the road, went through an underpass and crossed a bridge over the railway lines. The air was cool and somewhat damp, in a refreshing way. I crossed the rugby pitch towards the buildings. In the library computer pool room, the only part of the university open, there were several students there. I was surprised anyone was there tonight. I printed 77 pages and left. I saw the bus leave as I crossed back over the bridge, so spent some time walking around campus. A girl was talking in the middle of a path on her phone. From behind, I had assumed she was waiting for someone. It seemed like an odd place, in the middle of nowhere, to stop to talk on the phone. I passed her and entered an area--I'm not sure what you would call it, not a square, just an area really--in front of the library with a few benches. There were three girls sitting on one of the benches. One of their faces was lit up by a laptop. I sat on one some distance away and looked at the lines of the floor the ran away from me. I waited for several minutes--I had timed how long it took to get here and worked out how long it'd take to walk back to the bus stop in time for the next bus. Several minutes passed. I got up and walked past the three girls sitting on the bench. I walked past the girl talking on the phone. I walked under the underpass and waited at the station. I took the bus back and got Indian take-away, two bottles of beer and a can of gin and tonic. I walked home, to another evening where nothing had or would happen.

FREE MINI-CHAPBOOK

It's size A6, 16 pages long/short.
Email me your address if you want one: Gilesruffer@gmail.com

Macmann
trying to bundle
his sex into
his partner's
like a pillow
into a pillow-slip
folding it in two
and
stuffing it in
with his fingers

- Samuel Beckett
"Malone Dies"