back EPISODE #2, APRIL 2000 (If you email me in any capacity, be forewarned; it could end up on here. Thank you. Love, Andy Jenkins) MORE RESPONSE FROM THE ONE-TIME LIST BORROWING EXPERIMENT 4/12/00 Take me off your list, stealing a list is NOT cool, I dont want to be part of your pathetic list at all, even saying where you got it is the lamest, GET LOST. Goodsnacks, vasman@bem.com 4/13/00 I don't want to be on this list, take me the hell off! List stealers... how low can ya get. Theo, gouch@nettwerk.com RANDOMS 3/14/00 Andy, Did I ever tell you about the first time I looked in a “dirty” magazine? Well, I think you probably know this by now but I was a pretty big nerd growing up. All I would do is read. So, I see a “dirty” magazine in my brother’s room, and instead of looking at the pictures I read the opening pages. The first letter was from a guy saying that whenever he ate spicey food “his bunger burned like a bed of coals.” He was looking for an explanation. Anyways, I made the mistake of asking my mom what a “bunger” was. She said she had no idea and asked where I heard it. "Um, I think on the playground at school.” She suggested I ask one of my brothers. I just let it go. I think I know what it is now. Anyways, Ruby 3/15/00 Andy Jenkins? Hi... I decided to write because I read “Valley” this weekend (cover to cover with pretty much only sleep and boca burger preparation to interrupt) and thought it was so very wonderful, and also because your San Pedro is a beautiful use of the web. It must have been your San Pedro that inspired the dream I had friday night, before I broke open “Valley;” I've had multiple dreams about writing lately, in which I actually sit down at my dream computer and reach out for just the right dream verb, but in this one I was under assignment to write a short story in under 10 minutes using five sentences and mandatorily incorporating the phrase “be still my beating heart.” Sadly, some part of my subconscious insisted that short stories require Stars, and so Tobey Maguire and Gretchen Mol starred in my short story, which took place in a library and a bus station, and ended with Gretchen Mol’s tragic, bloody death (be still HER beating heart) and in real life, gosh, my story wholly sucked but anyway, I think the assignment was related to your economy in the “San Pedro” piece. Then the writers workshop in “Valley” struck a major chord with me and I thought I should just sit in front of a keyboard and go go go, and I thought “yes I should, yes indeed” and didn't, as per usual. I failed the assignment in the dream because I did not meet the time requirement, and I failed my self-assignment of 1999 to write something and submit it to an actual publication that actually publishes to the actual public. But in some ways I feel like I didn't fail at all, because I wrote freely for my own website and people read it. And if I remember correctly, when I was trying to write for money, it kinda sucked, so I'm thinking maybe computering for munny and writing just for fun is the way to go. But I also think maybe the traditionalist in me wants to waste some paper. Which somehow ties into this email, in that I so loved the singeing and the hand-pencilled marginalia, they truly sent little shockwaves, and when my friend Brodeur and I fantasize about our small press, those are exactly the kind of things we wet our pants over. We've actually gotten into something resembling action mode recently too, as we have the perfect First Project which is already tied to a CD that is already half recorded, and I'm excited to get off the proverbial ass and Produce Work even if I don't write it. But and here's where you might come in, sageness-wise; we seem to remember in college when we produced a literary mag that it cost something along the lines of $5 per to produce a book of unacceptable quality, and that was in a run of 1000, which I can't picture this project exceeding. How much did it cost you to put out Valley? How big of a run was it? And who singed? And who pencilled? Another question, which you are not required to answer (though, you're not required to answer any questions really), I will ask you because you are an insider, maybe the only Real Insider whose email address I have, and it is this: I heard a rumor that Charlie Kaufman is actually Earl Parker. Is it true? And if I interpret the notes in “Valley” correctly, would this actually mean that Charlie Kaufman is Tim Schmidt? I like to know things, but only if they're mine to know, so feel free to ignore. This is the second time I have written this email and right about here the last time, my computer died and spit my thoughts to the ether, so let's pray together while I sign and send. Oh also after reading “Valley” I wanted to read that “My Life as a Dork” piece in Dirt and ended up reading most of my Dirts and God, what a moment in publishing that was. Your fruits are admired, Mary Chen 3/16/00 Carlin Andrews, Checked in with the press. Tight, new shit. As always, it is on the one. Digging was I on the dreamer. Sweet nocturnal reading. I don't even need the flashlight under the sheets for this one. On the question of putting out the final Dirt, there is no question. blast that gooey nut master cluster all over the place. Of course I’m fucking bias because I have the rest of them. My favorite was the "Head Out on the Highway" issue. This was because I was such a fan of the Fool's Tour. Now here comes another trite and lackluster story. Hit "back" now if you hope to avoid the banal. In February of 1999 I was on tour in Victoria, Texas, doing children's theater in elementary schools. It was a show about water conservation and I played "the slug" who enjoyed wasting water and was thus the villian. The costume was basically a brown sleeping bag with a hole for my face. From a distance I looked like a life-size turd. Getting done at 3pm everyday left a lot of extra time (especially when you are tired of watching tv in a hotel room), so my tour partner Jared and I decided to check out the local library. They were having a book sale that day and I picked up a book about CBs (wicked photos) and Hunter S. Thompson's "A Generation of Swine" for a buck each. When I took it up to the counter the woman said, "I wish I could spend a day in Hunter's brain". "Jesus,” I thought,"the booze regiment would kill me alone, not to mention the drugs. Are you sure about that?,” I asked. "well," she reconsidered, "I guess maybe an hour would be enough." Jared was looking at a book on spirituality and so I sat down next to him at the table. Immediately a sock-footed boy squeezed in between us and sat on the table. "What is that a picture of?" the boy asked, pointing to Jared's book. "That's the ghost of jesus." said Jared. The boy picked up the book and started flipping through it, stopping occasionally to ask more questions about the pictures. He seemed to get bored with this and stood up on the table. Next, without warning, the kid jumped on my head and started screaming, "I want a ride! Gimmee a ride!" He was stuck on tight and I almost had to throw him to the ground to get him off of me. Jared saw my frustration and said, "It's time to go." We made our way out of the library and as we tried to go through the turnstyles, they locked up and an alarm started going off. I was tired of this shit and ducked under the turnstyle. Instantly an angry woman jumped out from behind the checkout counter and started screaming, "Hey you! Get in here!" Where was this woman when that kid was locked to my head, I thought. The irrate woman grabbed my books and barked "Did you buy these books here today?" "Yes," I told her. Then she walked up to the checkout counter and I followed close behind, fearing I might not see my new books again. She de-activated the anti-theft device in the books and handed them back, an ice-cold expression on her face. We headed out, once again, frustrated and dazed. Watch out for those texas libraries. You may just get kicked in the nuts. Hey! Let's hit the fucking road, Oak Tree 3/23/00 Jenkins, How are you? Cool. Say hello to the family. Hey, there’s this thing I keep a journal of. I really don't know how to say it without sounding like a lunatic but let me try. OK, whenever I encounter gross men (i.e. Shipper, the real estate agent) I play this sort of game with myself where I imagine me married to them for the rest of my life. Really. I imagine holidays, vacations, even the honeymoon! It is so gross. Anyways, it helps me not be so repulsed by the human. I'm not quite sure how. I mean I still stay repulsed by them but it takes the focus off of the reality. Umm... because when I stop thinking about it I'm not married to them at all—I get to be with the wonderful Cannuck of the North. Is this too morbid for the Ruby website? Do I need to better explain it? Have I revealed too much? Ruby 3/27/00 Hi Buddy I just saw Spike last night at the Oscars... On TV—I am not that much of a bad ass as to see him in person. Anyway I hope you are doing well... See you. Bret Banta, Carbon14 3/26/00 Hey Andy, It's Watt. I flowed you an email a few days ago and now after reading another one of your emails (I'm just getting back on the 'puter and getting through a ton of emails), I checked out the site and it's happenin! Much respect! Keep it kickin' —will add a link to my “Links Watt Likes” page. Watt 3/27/00 Beautiful Dreamer, My dad used to teach some metal shop in addition to his other high school classes. In the 70s he had a metal shop student (named Tom) who had the misfortune of being bit in the nuts by a dog, requiring stitches. He was given a healthy supply of pain pills to help deal with his extremely shitty problem. In keeping with 70s theories regarding drug use, Tom took a whole shitload of pain pills one day during school. Tom was using the metal grinder and my dad noticed all this blood flying out of the grinder. He pulled Tom away and blood was gushing from his finger. My dad could see the bone and almost passed out. Tom was so jacked on pain pills he couldn't feel his finger being ground off and didn't notice the blood. He was taken to the hospital where he received more stitches and more drugs. I was looking for shit at my parents house and found my copy of Factory's single "Electric Buffalo" backed with "Rat Inside my Head". I thought I had lost it a long time ago. It was a welcome visit from an old pal. Those tunes still freak me out a bit. Well done. Now if I could only get those damn photo chemical stains out of my factory t-shirt I could be a full fledged groupie once again. Ah hell, the stains give me that "hardcore fan" status anyway. I watched the Oscar's last night and it looks like Spike is spared from the dreamer's wrath. Too bad. I was hoping to see streaming clips of Spike being pummeled at Bend Press (heh, heh, heh). I hate Illinois Nazis, Oak Kelsey 4/1/00 Andy, What's going on? I was just going through my IE favorites, stumbled across your URL and paid another visit to the site. I like the new look and the response section. Anyway...I had a friend of mine that works on the Snap directory team add your URL in. Check it out. Do a search on Bend Press. Cade Crisafi Technology Services, NBC Internet, Inc. 4/3/00 I was wondering if you could help me with a few questions. I have seen your work in Launch and I love it. Your photos are so unique, and your writing has inspired me to start again. After comming across the Bend Press web site and finding your e-mail, I had to write in hope to hear your story. How long have you been working and on what? Where did you go to school? Are you from the states or the UK? Oh yeah, what's your connection to Spike Jonze? Sorry to be so random, Ryan Kuhlman, Wichita, Kansas 4/5/00 Hi andy, nice website, are you guys still "publishing" and if so what exactly. Looks all good + I’d love to have more info... hope to hear from you. Best, Dunja Christochowitz, Culture Editor Style and the Family Tunes, Berlin, Germany 4/9/00 Subject: Hellos and Other Scary Things Hello Andy, It's late and I was poking around the internet looking at porn and it got boring and sad really fast. I don't know why it always happens that you start on the internet looking for one thing and the next thing you know you're looking at busty blonds. I blame Ed Templeton.com mostly I was looking through the links that people had posted and someone had posted a link to a porn password site and being the curious weak male that I am I was all over it. But I didn't write you to discus internet practices. In fact I'm not really sure why I'm writing. I think mostly to say thank you so much for the post card after the modart show in San Diego (I know a little late). I wish there had been time to talk but the post card gave me hope. Jeff Tremaine has been alot of help. You know it's two in the morning and I'm running on about nothing. I also wanted to say how amazing your website is. It's one of my go to sites. You have so much good stuff on there. I love that drawing has such a high focus. Sometimes I feel that drawing is over looked but it's one of the most valid art forms out there. Drawing is like skating. For skating all you need is a board and a hard surface. For drawing all you need is a writing tool and a hard surface. It's fantastic. I just closed an art show that I had in Toronto. It was up for two weeks and did rather well. Paintings were sold, egos gratified. I'm not sure what it all means in the end but I do it cause I love it. Okay I'm saying nothing so I'll end this mad running on. If you get a chance the art show I mentioned is going to be posted on the expn.com web site. It should be up in the next two weeks or so. I want to send you some stuff in the near future. Thanks for doing art Andy. Andrew Pommier, Toronto, Canada PS I like how your photo is beside the girl with the cowboy hat in the AI hall of fame. Yeehaw. DIRT #8 RESPONSE CONTINUED 3/13/00 Hi. Dirt #8 needs to be unearthed. The people want to know where they stand in the rankings. Justin 3/14/00 Hell yes [release Dirt#8]....just make sure we don't have to buy a polybagged Sassy... looking forward. Thanks, Leif N 3/27/00 It's me, Andy, Greg Just days before wife is to give birth. The Three Rooms... amazing, dreamy. Who'd a thunk Jenkins writing about dreams, eh? I've had the same one with the locker combination, being lost on the way to class "I know I've got English Lit right now, but where the fuck is it!?" Had a dream last night that I was at a Redskins game with my dad, it went to overtime and they lost. He was pissed. I realized shortly before the game ended that I was barefoot. Why would I be barefoot in a porfessional football stadium? And how gross is that. I remember being very tentative walking to the car, hoping not to step on broken glass or God knows what... I recently purchased a four track. Been reading poetry again. Wife played the drums yesterday even though she's 40 weeks pregnant. It was beautiful. I say keep Dirt buried. Look to the future, not to the past. Greg E back