Toiling in Obscurity

A Fitting End?

2010-03-23T10:12:00.000-07:00

From now on, I will be sporadically blogging and over-self-promoting at jaimefountaine.com!

This Friday:

2010-03-20T11:19:00.000-07:00

I have a few more things up various sleeves, but first and foremost, is Toiling IX, the two-year anniversary of the show.

Return of the Rant-O-Wheel

2010-03-05T11:14:00.000-08:00

The Awful Possibilites

2010-02-24T20:09:00.000-08:00

After what seemed like forever, but was really only eleven months, Christian TeBordo's short story collection, The Awful Possibilities arrived on my doorstep Monday afternoon.

It’s hard to write about a book that feels already like a timeline of my life. “Sweet William, Don’t Even Bother Denying It” (from Three Denials) and I go back to July 29th, 2006, at a show that made me think, “I could do this.” It was the first time I’d encounter Jeremy, though I don’t remember him or his photos at all, just some mumblers, stories that went on too long, the guy who tried to ruin Masculine Feminine by boring me in front of it, how drunk Deb got, and telling Micah where a story really should have ended, as if I were some kind of authority.

“Rules and Regulations” (well, part two of “Rules and Regulations”) was the first story read at the first reading I held two years ago. My brother watched, wide-eyed, mouthing “baby dad” to me from across the room, while I got away with murder – a real audience, and real applause, and someone (whose tears are unpredictable, but regularly so) even cried.

“SS Attacks!” was the highlight of Toiling in Obscurity’s first anniversary, and “Moldering” was read at the first reading where I learned for myself that being a girl’s no way to win over an audience.

None of this has anything to do with the book and how good it is, unless, perhaps, you count that fact that good stories are like good records: they remind you of all the selves you’ve been since you first read them. The Awful Possibilities is full of good stories, even if you haven’t grown up with them.

Christian rarely gets enough credit for how funny he is and how sad his jokes are once you really think about them. On one of the postcards dividing the story her writes,

“Your father seemed embarrassed. My mother wasn’t there because she is dead so get over it.”

which sums the book up well: Christian TeBordo writes stories that are forceful and funny and stealthily sad.

Christian TeBordo will be reading at the next Toiling in Obscurity, on March 26th. You can order The Awful Possibilities here.

Beauty Regimen

2010-01-13T14:48:00.003-08:00

If my fingernails are painted, it's to make myself sit still.

Observation -- 5:10 R6, Friday

2010-01-09T10:52:00.000-08:00

Everyone on the train wears headphones so that they can be somewhere else. I don’t have them – I’m already too distracted by my own imagination. This means that I can hear the grey-haired man in the peacoat intermittently blowing raspberries. I have been on the train with him before. The noise, and how he sits and stares straight ahead when he makes it, must be inadvertent, or else it’s a sorry cry for attention. I wonder what it must be like to share an office with him, or a public bathroom. I imagine that he goes home each day without incident, removes the coat, and calls out loudly, just to see if he is, in fact, making a sound.

Second Stories Presents: The End of the World

2010-01-04T14:41:00.001-08:00

The end is near. Best be prepared.

Next Week

2009-11-30T18:59:00.001-08:00

Next week is a big one. For example:

Or, you know:

Never Shoot Heroin with a Guy Named Bones, and Other Important Lessons

2009-11-12T19:45:00.000-08:00

For the month and a half I worked as an advertising copywriter, I was discouraged from using the term “unqualified success” in press releases because my employers were convinced that people would think it sounded negative. I am convinced that they just didn’t know the definition.

For instance, Revenge of the Rant-O-Wheel on Tuesday night was an unqualified success. The show started almost on time (a first!), the room was packed, and all of the stories were hilarious.

The evening began with an important informational slideshow by Dr. Steven A. Manheart on the History of the Rant-O-Wheel, from its origins with the Native American tribes of California, the wheel’s rise and fall from grace in Belgium at the behest of Philip II of Spain, the rediscovery of the wheel by The Vampire of Sacramento, Richard Trenton Chase in 1976, all the way up to present day Philadelphia.

Plied with the promise of free Halloween temporary tattoos, audience members and ringers alike joined in the storytelling melee. Meg Favreau took first place with her tale of “The Red Hamper” which is a euphemism for a sexual act to which I, as a vegetarian, am personally opposed. In second place was our first audience volunteer, Larry from Worcester, with a story about Doug the Racist Dolphin’s demise. Tied for third place were Pat Kelly’s story – notable for a creative use of “Daryl Hall”, and Micah Bedrosian’s story about getting his first tattoo. The unsung hero of the night was PJI’s Alexis Simpson, Rant-O-Wheel professional, who makes it look so easy that it’s embarrassing for the rest of us.

After a minor drug freakout, a Canadian’s take on 9/11, and a few embarrassing celebrity mentions, Doctor Manheart and I performed the first-ever tag-team rant. Turns out, he’s my half-brother. It’ll go down in history as the best Rant-O-Wheel show until the next one.

Second Stories

2009-11-03T10:20:00.000-08:00

A Vignette

2009-10-28T12:50:00.000-07:00

Because I hate flash fiction, I thought it would be a good idea to attempt some.

A Tase for the Finer Things

He was a tall, broad man, but his hands swam in the sleeves of his suit. Boxy and oversized, it had the sparkle of cheap costume polyester. With it, he wore a red bowtie, which made him look like a member of the Nation of Islam, or a waiter, but he wore it proudly, like a boy in his father’s suit. He wanted his espresso in a china cup – something about it makes the coffee taste better, he says, stirring in careful spoonfuls of sugar, and smiles to show he’s savoring it.

“You’ve got a good machine. I can tell. One of the old ones.”

Like an iceberg, his path is wide, but precise. Subtle. He asks before making room at the counter next to the old woman and her breakfast.

“Are you married?” he asked. “I just bought my wife a ring. We’ve been married for six years.”

“Yes. Sixty years.”

“That’s amazing,” he said, and paused, considering the next fifty four years, and how he’d spend them. She’d never quite thought of it that way. It was just how things were done. “No one really respects marriage anymore.”

“No, you’re right. It’s just not valued these days.” She had a lilting English accent like a storybook narrator’s: gentle, but insistent. “I met my husband when we were twenty years old.”

“That’s a long time.”

“Yes.” He finished the coffee and smiled.

“I hope you’re married a hundred years.” She was perplexed, but she thanked him, because he seemed genuine.

“Have a nice day.”

“And you have an even better day!”

When the woman had finished, she brought her plate up front. “That croissant was excellent,” she said. “Just like in France.”

And Another Thing!

2009-10-06T17:40:00.000-07:00

Every so often, I feel like I should use this internet space for more personal reasons, like to talk about things that bother me, or show off pictures of my kids*.

So, here are a few lists of things I've been to lazy to compose into interesting thoughts.

What I've Been Into Lately:

"St. James Infirmary Blues"
Get Some Sun in Yr Blood by Tinmouthy
4 lbs of Sweet Potatoes for $1.50
Lying About Ben Franklin

(This guy drives a Subaru Outback - no lie.)
The 9th Doctor
Cary Grant

Recent Victories:
Getting paid for two consecutive shows, totalling $45.
Successfully working crowds of total strangers
Being billed as "Local Sensation Jaime Fountaine"

Recent Disappointments:
Getting asked if the Rant-O-Wheel 2.0 (built by Jeremy Tenenbaum) was a school project by an old man
That I won't get my copy of The Awful Possibilities until the spring. (I paid for it in MARCH, Featherproof.)

I Swear:
The double-TeBordo mention was a total coincidence.
Tuesday's show is going to be fun.
That I have a really good reason for going to the Renaissance Faire this weekend.

I Bet:
You're glad I don't do this more often

*I don't have any!

I'm Your Biggest Fan

2009-10-04T17:12:00.000-07:00

2009-09-16T19:29:00.000-07:00

All I Ever Wanted

2009-08-10T07:43:00.000-07:00

I've spent my summer so far a dull self-promotion machine, wrapped up mostly in writing and performing in and being disappointed and ecstatic over shows. The one tomorrow is going to be excellent.

It's been a summer of Scotch and Sodas, sometimes too many, enough to make me the kind of clear, businessman drunk that only fictional ad executives and movie accountants (who have just discovered something terrible about their own futures, that will allow them to finally live life to the fullest) get. The kind of drunk that makes a visit to a children's museum difficult the next day.

I've been reading John O'Hara's very short stories. They put contemporary flash fiction* so much to shame that I shouldn't even talk about it. John O'Hara is an important lesson about being nice, because his reviews were based more upon how unlikable he was than how good he was at writing. He was also notable for his drinking, like Faulkner was, except that Pottsville boy lacked a certain Mississippi charm.

What I mean to say is, I'm going on vacation. My first as an adult. One that will allow me to drink cheap Scotch on Faulkner's grave, visit my childhood ghosts, and see the world's smallest city block. I'm headed South. After Second Stories, that is.

*It's fair to say that I'm wary of flash fiction. Almost as much as I am prose poetry, which I feel is the lowest form of either genre.

Enter the Rant-O-Wheel Daredevil Storytelling Competition!

2009-08-03T17:22:00.001-07:00

One Small Step for Jaime...

2009-07-21T14:47:00.000-07:00

A story I wrote, "Confetti" will be published in this month's Eastown Fiction.

Bonerama!

2009-07-15T14:43:00.000-07:00

Similarities

2009-07-07T18:53:00.000-07:00

Stepdads

2009-07-05T19:12:00.000-07:00

(poster by Jeremy Eric Tenenbaum)

If a Tree Falls in the Forest

2009-06-29T20:24:00.000-07:00

I’ve known The Sixth Borough since their inception in dismal January 2007 at the Ric Rac and in our living room. I was at stage left switching lights at their first show. I peddled “ADULTS” tickets, drunkenly disparaged Die Actor Die judges on their behalf, joined them on the radio. They are my friends and my colleagues, and in some cases, closer to family. I’m sentimental because I’m proud: at Snubfest this weekend in Chicago, they won both the Audience and Judges' prizes for sketch comedy.

When my friends do well, I’m happy for them. Not only because they should do well, but because it gives me hope. I do what I’m doing in a bubble. I have my shows, and lord knows The Dive has given me more opportunities than I’m worth, but the room is only so big, and will only get me so far. I am good at reading, but who’s ever sat down with my writing?

I’m not alone like this. I went to college for this kind of disappointment. I was told, a few weeks before graduating that I am “not [a writer].” That afternoon, fuming, I looked around the room and realized I was one of very few who were willing to fight against that. It’s only natural to worry now it’s all been for naught.

When things like this happen to people that I love and respect who have earned it with cleverness and talent above anything else, it reminds me, however fleetingly, that what I am working for could be worth something, and that persistence is pretty much all I’ve got in my favor. But it’s something, and occasionally, it pays off.

Something's Afoot Finally

2009-06-19T10:09:00.000-07:00

Hey, remember that radioplay that Jeremy and I wrote and performed with the Sixth Borough six months ago? No? Well, here it is, available for your listening pleasure.

Feverish

2009-06-12T13:24:00.000-07:00

On Tuesday, I was so taken by fever that I forgot to introduce my bit on Doctor Who monsters properly. The audience just assumed that I had made up a series of strange creatures that I thought might attack earth. The part about building underground cities in strategic locations was intentional, though.

Terrible Ideas I've Had Today

2009-06-02T12:16:00.000-07:00

1. Making a mix cd utilizing every single cover version of "You've Lost that Loving Feeling" available.

2. Getting my hair cut like David Cassidy's.

3. Trying to hang up posters without bringing any tape.

2009-06-01T19:38:00.000-07:00

Oh! The Horror!

2009-05-29T14:28:00.000-07:00

In Praise of Friends

2009-04-30T18:40:00.000-07:00

Can I talk about Giaco for a second? And Kati?

I have been friends with Giaco since my senior and his junior year of college when we were made co-editors of a school-based publication that never materialized due to lack of interest (in both contributors and readership). It was then we realized that we had more in common than is normally required for friendship. We were both ambitious (but not within the limits of our college major), children of chefs, frustrated, excitable, and dare I say, talented? And despite how much in common he has with me, Giaco is also a kind, warm, friendly fellow. I don’t know if I can think of a happier or more welcoming person. I could not be more pleased to have him as a co-conspirator on the new show: Second Stories.

I haven’t known Kati as well or as for as long, but I am equally confident in her excellence. The first time I met her was at the second reading, wherein she crowned Blaise himself, no questions asked. Since then, she has come to shows, made some great jokes (complete with Hall and Oates references), come with us to see Morrissey, and made the poster for the new show.

Did I mention that these guys own the world’s most handsome dog?

It is a privilege to have such talented, wonderful people as friends. Especially when they occasionally need a dogsitter.

New Show!

2009-04-29T10:58:00.000-07:00

Show Friends

2009-04-28T11:48:00.000-07:00

One of the many benefits of doing shows at least once a month are what I call "show friends." These are people that you have things in common with and see rather frequently, but have yet to crossover into actual socialized friendship. In a way, they're better than regular friends, because you don't have to put in any effort to see them, and since the time spent with them involves working toward a common goal, you respect them in a way you don't usually consider with regular friends.

Some of my favorite show friends are Meg Faverau and Rob Baniewicz, who perform comedy as Meg and Rob. A while back, I ventured to the Northeast to help them out on a video. I think it turned out pretty well.

Sweepstakes from Meg & Rob on Vimeo.

Sorry, Ringo

2009-04-20T19:29:00.000-07:00

You must be wondering where that radio broadcast is, and what I'm calling my new show, and if I've reverted to some strange preschool state that includes a lot of Shining Time Station. Well, I don't have it yet, I've procrastinated that one off for another time, and no, I promise.

But, I have written one of the most controversial articles on Space Junk yet.

You can read it here.

Mr. Conductor

2009-04-13T12:47:00.000-07:00

A couple of friends of mine are going to help me make a point:

If you do enough drugs in your youth, you will become a children's entertainer in later life.

The Name Game

2009-03-26T11:42:00.000-07:00

As I have probably told many of you already, after the last Toiling in Obscurity (of which one can find more pictures here) Erin the bartender offered me the opportunity to do a monthly show, starting on May 12.

I have enlisted Giaco’s help so that I do not go completely insane from my scheduling disease. We already have a couple of readers and theme (stories from the service industry*) for the first show – you see, it’s going to be more compact, more controlled, more conversational – but if you’d be interested in participating in this or future shows, you should get in touch with me. You should also help us name this thing, because right now, our best bets are:

Fresh Paper
and
Bildungsroman and Beer

What do you think?

*If you’re interested in reading or performing at the first show, get in touch with me by mid-April. I already have a few people on the list. The second show, which should be the second Tuesday in June, will be "Genre"-themed. While that one is Giaco’s baby, I will be happy to put the two of you in touch.

What I Have Learned

2009-03-19T22:16:00.000-07:00

Some things are hard for me to admit:

1. that I need help
2. that I have parents who aren’t wolves
3. that I have been influenced by other humans

None, however, are more important for you to pay attention to than #3. (Especially ignore 1 and 2.) If there were ever a person who had an influence on my adult mind, it would be Sebastian Agudelo. I followed him through UArts Liberal Arts classes, thorough poetry and prose and cigarette breaks. He is the best teacher that ever taught me anything.

Sebastian, who so bravely and grumblingly did my reading last week, is doing another reading this week, on Friday, at Brickbat Books. You, reader, should go, and you should listen, and you should probably buy his book, because of all the people that ever taught me anything, only two of them have published books*. And even if you won't do it for me, or for Giaco, who will be handing out wine, I hear, do it because the world demands of you some participation, and listening is always the easiest option.

*Do you recall that I mentioned another person? It was Christian TeBordo, who has written a story collection (from which he read last weekend), that is available only through Paper Egg Books. You should also probably get that, because no one else has ever bent the English language to fit the culture as perfectly as he did when he wrote "Tupac-alypse."

Gratitude

2009-03-15T19:49:00.000-07:00

Sebastian asked me on Friday night why I put together the reading series. My first answer was, "Because the only way I can get people to pay attention to me is to make them." It was a joke, but I meant it, too. After a year and five shows, each better than the next, I can only thank those involved for helping me scream louder and longer than ever.

2009-03-03T15:27:00.000-08:00

Poster by Jeremy Eric Tenenbaum

The Pole vs. The Hole

2009-03-02T17:08:00.000-08:00

Germaine Greer, whose most notable work, The Female Eunuch, argued that women are not aware of how much they are taught to hate themselves, has written an essay for The Guardian about how women aren’t as funny as men. Well, she says that women are "droll," but "men [are driven] to more and more outrageous and bizarre mental acrobatics, to stay ahead of the game and have the last laugh. The greater the pressure, the faster the firing of neurons in the male brain." And she also says, “Women famously cannot learn jokes.”

Hey, Germaine, why don’t you read between your own lines: "When they are not running themselves down, women comedians are often astonishingly vicious towards other women."

Portrait of an Economy

2009-02-16T13:15:00.000-08:00

Blogger/Author Rebecca Woolf started a blog collecting recession stories called Portraits of an Economy. You can see my entry here.

Little Victories

2009-02-15T17:02:00.000-08:00

I'm not a comedian. That hasn't stopped me from participating in comedy shows. On Friday, Corey Cohen graciously allowed me to try a new character at Steal This Show. She was a 38-year-old library Aide named Beverly.

I find the mark of a successful character performance is being confused for the character after the show. When I first started doing "Little Jaime" at Bedtime Stories, I was approached by a fellow and his lady friend. She thought I actually was 12, and was concerned that I was drinking a beer. If I recall, I showed her an ID to prove that I was an adult.

Friday night, after a performance which culminated in my hitting on, then spilling a drink on Corey, offering to make casseroles for the gentlemen of the audience, and yelling out a fake phone number while dressed like Lily Tomlin in 9 to 5, a man I had never seen before started hitting on me. When I told him that I wasn't actually 38, he left awkwardly.

Hopefully there won't be any confusion this Wednesday, February 18, when Blaise and I will be performing in Bedtime Stories (now at the Ric Rac) with the help of the lovely Meg Favreau.

Mark Your Calendars

2009-02-11T12:14:00.000-08:00

This March marks the year anniversary of the Toiling in Obscurity readings. Organizing and performing in these things has been the most (only) satisfying part of my creative life in the past year. It is with great pleasure, present to you:

TOILING IN OBSCURITY V
Friday, March 13th
7pm at The Dive

with Poetry from:
Sebastian Aguedelo
and
Giaco Furino

Fiction by:
Jaime Fountaine,
Christian Tebordo,
Jeremy Eric Tenenbaum,
and
Tabitha Vidaurri

and Music from:
Tim TeBordo

Radio Philadelphia

2009-02-05T10:10:00.000-08:00

This past Saturday, The Sixth Borough, Jeremy Eric Tenenbaum, and I performed "Something's Afoot in Southwark" -- an original radioplay that Jeremy and I wrote together -- for the Nexus Radio Project.

In addition, there were a few readings, a Sixth Borough performance, and in order to fill ten minutes that had been allotted for a no-show, an interview with "Angus MacAllister" a prop-comic, voiced by my brother.

Jeremy took some great pictures of the afternoon (and wrote a charming recap of the day) that you can see here.

Reminders and Remainders

2009-01-26T16:00:00.000-08:00

I've been busy. And not just because I've spent a lot of time looking up Partridge Family videos on YouTube.

As you know, Something's Afoot in Southwark, the radioplay I'm co-writing with Jeremy Eric Tenenbaum, premieres this Saturday. We will be presenting it, along with several fiction and poetry readings, and a radio show by The Sixth Borough, between 12 and 3 pm, on Nexus Radio 1650 AM.

In addition to all that, I've spent the last week or so writing about fictional music and Wild in the Streets on Space Junk.

I've got more up my sleeve, but it's a secret for now.

More or Less

2009-01-14T11:44:00.000-08:00

Though I’ve been busy with “Something’s A-Foot in Southwark”, I’ve managed to keep pace with Tabitha over at Space Junk for Space Punks. You should check both of them out!

As a reward for actually reading the above sentences, here is a clip of Vincent Price from The Muppet Show:

Announcing

2009-01-06T11:21:00.000-08:00

Café Etiquette

2009-01-04T12:23:00.000-08:00

As with most young laptop owners living in an urban environment, I frequent coffee shops. I also work in one. These factors, in conjunction with the fact that I’m a curmudgeon, have led me to develop a serious sense of manners about the whole business.

On Tipping:

If you just order a regular coffee, you aren’t exactly required to tip. However, after a refill, or if you plan on sticking around the café for a while, you should most definitely throw a dollar into the jar.

If you require a lot of special accoutrements (split shot, half-caf mocha, light on the chocolate, heavy on foam, for example) or require the barista to explain more than two drinks to you, you should tip.

If you get a very small amount of change back from your order (less than a quarter) leave it in the tip jar. It doesn’t dent your pocket, but it can really add up for the baristas.

On Talking:

Cafés are highly social places, but people are often trying to accomplish things. If everyone in the room can follow your conversation, you need to switch to an inside voice. This is especially true if you tend to repeat the same conversation to different people, are talking about your sex life or failed relationships, discussing your “art,” or telling your friend the problems with the city in which you both reside.

If you receive a phone call – try to go outside to answer it. If it’s a simple, “Yes, I’m at the coffee shop,” then keep it quiet. No one wants to hear you spend the next twenty minutes telling your friend about what you did last night – especially if you’ve already told this story to someone else in the room.

On The Local Weirdoes:

There are going to be some freaks out there. By simple observation, you can usually determine if these people are best ignored (ex. Drunk Elvis Impersonator), or are okay to interact with (ex. Fellow smoking a pipe and reading US Weekly in a Ninja Turtles sweatshirt) if it becomes necessary. Integrating yourself with the weirdoes on a limited basis is beneficial for all parties involved. It’s good to have them on your side.

On Tables:

Try to take up as little space as is necessary for your comfort. This is only fair. In the event of a full house, either move on or wait a minute. Table sharing is better done outside, or with people who you recognize by sight. If someone asks to share your table, you’re probably stuck – but you don’t actually have to talk to them. Unless you live in a romantic comedy, asking a really attractive person who happens to be reading a book you love to share their table will not result in a love affair. It will just make you look like a creep.

On Baristas:

Your barista probably fits into one of several categories: world weary, attractively haggard gentleman, very attractive, possibly dumb fellow, friendly and adorable lady, really attractive, but bitchy lady, or seriously weird person. Part of their job is to give you something that you want. This is not the first step into a beautiful relationship; it’s a job requirement. Instead of projecting your blank lust upon them, be friendly, tip well, and back off. If they want to interact with you, they will do it. Think of baristas like small woodland creatures – adorable, vicious if disturbed, but ultimately harmless.

(In addition to complaining, I've also had a few things to say over at Space Junk for Space Punks.)

Space Junk Has Lifted Off!

2008-12-21T16:27:00.001-08:00

For anyone interested, the location of Space Junk for Space Punks, the nerd blog I keep with Tabitha Vidaurri, has changed. And there's a bit on Oliver Reed up (including a link to a pretty good documentary) right now.

You Make My Heart Sing

2008-12-11T20:31:00.000-08:00

In honor of the upcoming holidays, and my latest post on SPACE JUNK , I present you with this, a most perplexing gift:

Recession Gift Guide

2008-12-06T15:53:00.000-08:00

In these times of great economic struggle, it is important to hold onto the traditions that have made us who we are, in order to survive our sorrow. Here is a list of free or inexpensive gifts to help you and yours stay cheery through this difficult holiday season.

Macaroni Necklaces

What better way to show someone you care than to create a beautiful and edible piece of jewelry, that’s as one-of-a-kind as they are. A great gift for parents, who totally loved them the first time around.

Canned Goods

These are the perfect stocking stuffer for those that are very poor or people with bomb shelters. An especially great gift for those low-income pals who are apocalyptically-minded.

Homemade Coupons

Armed with a fistful of crayons and construction paper, you can stack up a year’s worth of empty promises, for help, hugs, and household chores. This is a great gift for family and aggravated roommates.

Oral Sex*

A wise man once told me that if one can give a good blowjob, his pockets need never be empty. Would you disagree? What better way to show a friend how much you care. It’s free, simple, and easy.

*This is not an appropriate gift for family.

Manifesto

2008-12-04T13:56:00.000-08:00

I read this piece at last night's Bedtime Stories.

Keeping up with the Jones -es has gone too far. It is an activity for those lacking imagination. My dad told me that there is a recession, and that we have to cut back. He is right, but for the wrong reasons. I think we value the wrong things in life. Getting an iPod Shuffle for Christmas is not as important as Matt Beverly thinks it is. We do not need videogames, or highlights for our hair, and I refuse to believe that getting a manicure is necessary before each CYO dance – especially since everyone just wears jeans anyway. We have been taught to lead lives of bourgeois excess. But we are young, and can still change.

It’s too late for our parents, the petty bourgeoisie. They have built entire lives and careers on one-upping each other, and looking like they know what they’re doing. I figured this out when my dad bought a new television, even when ours was just fine, just because it was a flat screen. He needed my brother to show him how to use the remote. My brother is nine. It isn’t just a problem in my family. My mom says that Bobby Cartica’s dad started his whole construction business just to spite his brother, who got into college. She says that he feels superior because he makes more money, even though he dropped out of high school. This is called class warfare, because the rich people are always trying to make the poor people feel bad, like when my mom heard that Mrs. Tierney gets new appliances every two years, even when they aren’t broken. She shouldn’t be upset that we can’t afford such waste. But, my parents, like all of yours, were taught to be materialistic, rather than introspective.

Karl Marx said that “the theory of Communists may be summed up in a single sentence: Abolition of private property.” When he said this, he wasn’t trying to steal stuff, but to free the proletariat from the iron hand of the bourgeoisie. He wanted the people, like you and me, to change the world so as to make it better for themselves. His ideas are called Marxism. Marxism is different from Communism, because Communism doesn’t work. They do it in China, but really it’s Totalitarianism, and it’s bad, because they make inferior products and steal jobs from Americans. They also steal American jobs in India, but that’s called outsourcing. I learned that when my mom tried to call the cable company, and I had to sit on the phone while she was waiting for her turn. It was a very bad connection, and our cultural differences made it hard to understand how to restart our DVR.

As students here, we already wear uniforms. This makes us united in a way that encourages teamwork, as well as discouraging gang colors. I think that Marx was right about a lot of things. I do not advocate stealing from one another, but instead working together for a greater good. We can free ourselves from the rampant consumerism of our bourgeois parents. Instead of demanding more things, like for Christmas in a few weeks, we should demand something else – freedom, equality, communism. If we refuse to become cogs in the machine of commerce, freeing ourselves from the shackles of our parents’ misconceptions, we can set an example that could become a revolution. There is nothing to lose but our chains. We have a world to win.

STUDENTS OF THE SEVENTH GRADE, UNITE!

Updates

2008-11-25T17:04:00.000-08:00

In addition to ongoing work at Space Junk for Space Punks and next Friday's Toiling in Obscurity, I will be performing in Bedtime Stories on Wednesday, December 3, at the Shubin. I am also really into making crackers right now.

Oat Cakes:

2 c. Oatmeal
3/4 c. Flour
1/4 tsp. Baking Soda
1 tsp. Salt
4 tbl. Butter, melted
Boiling Water

Preheat oven to 400.
Pulse oatmeal in blender for a smoother texture.
Add wet to dry, using only as much water as is necessary to form a workable dough.
Roll flat and cut into circles.
Bake 10 - 15 minutes.

You can tart these up however you'd like. I made some with Rosemary (crushed, then worked into the dough), and some with Honey (1tsp. for a half-batch). They are delicious.

2008-11-24T11:47:00.000-08:00

Additionally

2008-11-19T18:28:00.000-08:00

I've started writing for noted comedienne Tabitha Vidaurri's sci-fi blog, Space Junk for Space Punks.

Movies to Watch:

2008-11-17T20:11:00.000-08:00

Congo (1995)

A monkey scientist, a mercenary (played by Ghostbuster Ernie Hudson), a technology specialist (legitimate actress, Laura Linney), and a Hungarian treasure hunter (Tim Curry) travel to the jungle with a gorilla (played by a lady in a monkey suit) tricked out with a magic glove that allows her to “speak” via sign language in order to find an ex-fiance (Bruce Campbell), a diamond, a lost city, and a home for a misfit gorilla. The scene on the airplane in which Amy the gorilla requests “raindrop drink” (a martini) is the most amazing thing ever captured on celluloid.

Surf Ninjas (1993)

A pair of brothers discover, after the untimely death of their adoptive father, that they are princes of a small island country called Patusan. With the help of a guy in an eye patch, a detective (played by Tone-Loc), and their friend (Rob Schneider, playing a high school student at age 30), they must save their homeland from the evil Colonel Chi (Leslie Neilson with a robot arm). This film ranked ahead of Woody Allen’s Manhattan Murder Mystery when first released in theaters.

Mrs. Doubtfire (1993)

Robin Williams plays a man who, after his divorce, discovers a new life as an elderly Scottish widow (with help from Harvey Firestein). Pierce Brosnan costars as a dreamboat.

TiO IV: Further Updates

2008-11-17T16:39:00.000-08:00

My comrades in the next Toiling in Obscurity will be, as follows:

Giaco Furino
Gregg Gethard
Ashley Jerome
Alejandro Morales
Jeremy Eric Tenenbaum

Lineup subject to change.

Toiling in Obscurity IV: Up for Consideration

2008-11-11T11:26:00.000-08:00

Past Readers, or Future Reading Hopefuls,

If you, or someone you know would like to read at the next Toiling in Obscurity, to be held on Friday, December 5th, please send a writing sample with a note of intention (as in what you'd want to read and for how long) to jaime.fountaine@gmail.com by this Friday, November 14th.

I hope to hear from and disappoint many of you.

Jaime

Toiling in Obscurity IV

2008-10-23T17:05:00.000-07:00

The next Toiling in Obscurity reading will be held on Friday, December 5, at 7pm at The Dive.

The Single Greatest Literary Conversation of My Life

2008-10-14T14:58:00.000-07:00

I had just finished the first page of “Imagine Kissing Pete” from John O’Hara’s Sermons and Soda Water when a sweaty, middle-aged man missing his two front teeth peered around the pole.

"IS THAT A GOOD BOOK?" he asked.

"I'm only on page two." I tried to go back to the reading.

"You know how you can tell if a book is really good? If it grabs you from the first page."

"Yep."

"You know who's a good author? You probably saw the movie. Tom Clancy?"

"I haven't actually seen that one."

"Oh you should. He's good. And Dean Koontz. Stephen King writes some good books, too. Dark Tower, all of that stuff. And man, the books are even better than the movies!"

"They usually are."

"Man, The Godfather? That book was EVEN BETTER."

“Well, The Godfather was a pretty good movie.”*

"And Star Wars? That book was great. William Shatner is a great author!"

He proceeded to tell me about how I should go to Borders and read the books there**, so that I don't have to pay for them. He balked when I mentioned the Library.

*I’ve read The Godfather, and while it made me really, really hungry, I think that the first two Godfather movies are better than the book.

**I actually did that in high school, when I spent my Friday nights as a really cool person at the bookstore, hoping someone I vaguely knew would show up so that I could impress them*** with the fact that I could read an entire book in two hours.

***This never actually worked.

I Deny This Reality

2008-10-09T07:24:00.000-07:00

I should preface this with a few facts. Despite years of threats, I have never seen Star Wars, or any of its subsequent sequels, prequels, or whatever George Lucas is calling “movies” these days. Aside from a handful of classic dystopian tales that have been assigned over the years, I have never been a big reader science fiction. I find the actual world hard enough to believe as it is. The last time I was likely to indulge in any sort of fantasy world was between 1989 and 91, when I was particularly enamored with The Little Mermaid. This isn’t to say that I lack imagination, or to deny that my childhood was spent buried in books, barely dodging insults. I only offer this as contrast.

Last October I was the secretary to an alarmingly inept young lawyer who looked like a khaki-clad (Hangin’ with) Mr. Cooper, and had the patience and intellectual capacity of a hungry toddler. I was unhappy, but that was to be expected. It was, after all, my first job out of college. I wasn’t supposed to like it. I was supposed to phone it in while I wrote my novel on lunch breaks. I wasn’t supposed to take it personally, but it was getting more and more difficult to leave work in that tiny, windowless office, where I was left alone with the abstract expressionist Ikea painting to field phone calls from my boss, asking me how to be a lawyer. I do not respond well to the sorts of demands that were lobbed at me; I was told in the beginning that my $10 and hour under-the-table job consisted of copies, answering the phone, and taking things to the courthouse, but it became clear within a month that my boss expected me to shoulder the burden of his responsibilities as an attorney. He wasn’t qualified to do it, so how could I be?

One drunken Saturday, after a couple of movies, the evening’s companion lurched forward with a VHS copy of Logopolis. “Just one episode, I swear.” I didn’t have a good argument, and he was bigger than me, so I allowed it. Maybe it was the wine, but with every chime of the cloister bell, I suspended a little more disbelief. By the time the Watcher faded into Peter Davison, something clicked.

I should now take the time to explain to the uninitiated, that I am talking about Doctor Who, the longest running science fiction television series in the world. Without going too much into history, the show is about The Doctor, who is a Time Lord, which is a kind of time and space traveling alien from the planet Gallifrey. During the 9th Doctor’s tenure, it’s explained that he is the last of the Time Lords, and Gallifrey was destroyed during the time war. But, I’m getting ahead of myself. All you really need to know is that he’s an alien from a race with the ability to regenerate —that is, instead of dying (most of the time) they become a completely different person in a different body. The Doctor retains his memories with each new incarnation, but has had several different personalities. There have been ten Doctors since the Kennedy Assassination. From the first episode, the Doctor has traveled in what appears to be a 1960’s police telephone box, but is actually his spaceship, the TARDIS, which is an acronym for time and relative dimensions in space, which translates to “It’s bigger on the inside.” All of this is probably news to you, unless you are British, or watched the show on PBS at some point in your childhood. I fit into neither category, so it was very difficult for me to explain to my friends, or even myself how such a thing had come to pass.

Like anyone with basic cable in the 1990’s, I’ve seen Back to the Future, and its sequels a hundred times, and therefore, have a casual interest in fictional time travel and young Michael J. Fox. My interest in space travel extends only as far as the 1970’s, and really only for Ziggy Stardust and Logan’s Run-style set pieces. I spent most of college proclaiming, “I have no suspension of disbelief!” as the stock answer to why I hated The Matrix and Lord of the Rings and your fantasy short story with the nowhere plot and several made up words that meant “dragon,” and “sword” that was somehow also about your ex-girlfriend. I was put off aliens almost entirely at the age of three by the movie E.T., not because of the scary government interference parts, but because E.T. looked as though he smelled awful. That was enough for me. Nothing in my intellectual makeup allowed for my almost autistic interest in the continuing adventures of the Doctor and his companions. But, in the past year alone, I’ve had six jobs, which is twice as many as I’d ever had before. Since quitting my secretary job in late November, I have been a temp, a linguistic annotator, a production assistant for an educational publishing company, an advertising copywriter, and am now, for the time being, a barista again. I have not settled into a single position, either because it was temporary, or because my sanity was too important to me.

We define ourselves by our goals, our jobs and incomes and relationships. When none of them give even the illusion of certainty, without a clear station or direction, it’s easy to lose track of things. It’s not any easier creatively, especially if your end point seems further away than health insurance. To be young now is to sit amongst the intangible, to be thoroughly separate from comfort and safety. It’s why our cultural and social milestones are so tied to our interests, why we update our MySpace and Facebook profiles – because they’re safe, and offer immediate, though shallow connections, and because, in some ways, they give a faint impression of a fully formed person with those few improperly punctuated lists. Man is not the sum of his interests, but without clear markers for growth or success, we’re limited to bullet points of our capabilities, lines on our resumes, and detailed explanations of extracurricular activities.

The Doctor has been ten different people. It’s not just a convenient plot device – it allows the audience to see consistency through change. We are born and become and remain ourselves. It’s not a simple or pleasant process, and it goes wrong as often as it goes right, but it’s what makes us human. He has been young and old and silly and serious. He has been an egomaniac, an asshole, the inspiration for (and salvation from) an evil computer bent on eugenics experiments in the outer reaches of space. It’s not real, and we know that, but it reflects some part of reality that’s hard to contain within television plotlines. Change is not something that happens in easy arcs with clear midpoints, step by cinematic step before our very eyes. It is often something that happens out of necessity which we accustom ourselves to later. The Doctor hasn’t our human luxury, and so all of his differences and similarities are physical, played out for all of us to see. Whether or not we agree with each casting, he’s the same character the audience accepted forty-five years ago. And I like that. I respect that.

With all that’s changed and changed and changed in my last year, it feels good to have some constant, an escape from thinking about how, at the rate I’m going, I’ll never finish this book or have health insurance or a savings account, or get anywhere close to touching what I’ve worked my whole life toward. Because while the world is not fair or kind, I know that the Doctor will always come back in the end with the answer that, might not be a solution, but does the least harm. It's a comfort to imagine some sense of kindness in the world, even if it’s by way of a fictional alien traveler with a soft spot for planet Earth. I’m only human, but there’s no one on earth with more faith in humanity than the Doctor.

Tonight!

2008-09-19T11:02:00.000-07:00

Alejandro Morales

Ashley Jerome

Meg Favreau

Tabitha Vidaurri

Jeremy Eric Tenenbaum

Jan Cohen

Jason Messina

Giaco Furino

Jaime Fountaine

Mort is less!

2008-09-07T10:17:00.000-07:00

Toiling in Obscurity III will be held Friday, September 19 at 7pm at the Dive.

“and now spiritually constipated I’ve grown testy”

2008-08-05T20:14:00.000-07:00

I’ve never been a great reader of Bukowski, but, my freshman year of college, when I racked up a fistful of store credit shelving books at the old Book Trader on South Street, I bought his Last Night of the Earth Poems. I wasn’t all that impressed, but I’ve kept page 192, “Only One Cervantes” bookmarked with my receipt ever since. Old Chuck and I don’t have all that much in common, but every so often, when writing’s rough and I’m stuck – watching cartoons and listing failures, doodling endless circles in my ideas notebook, getting in touch with my inner Hank Chinaski – I’ll skim it. The last lines don’t help, exactly, but provide some distant commiseration:

yet look, I am still
lucky,
for writing about a
writer’s block
is better than not writing
at all.

Sometimes, it’s all you have.

Toiling in Obscurity III

2008-07-21T12:26:00.001-07:00

The next reading will be held on Friday, September 19 at the Dive.
More to follow.

Toiling Obscurity Mentioned on the Internet; Tourists Rejoice

2008-07-21T08:46:00.000-07:00

I was recently interviewed by Meg Favreau for the Philadelphia Greater Tourism and Marketing Board's blog, uwishunu.com. Though their spelling choice offends me, it's worth reading the article because she said really nice things about me.

http://www.uwishunu.com/philly-writers-jaime-fountaine/

It's also possible that you, having read the aforementioned interview, are now looking to this "blog" for some sort of information or entertainment. I swear, there will be some of that eventually.

Reluctantly Yours

2008-07-01T20:30:00.000-07:00

I am of a generation (by birth, not by choice) that has been accused of loathsome self-involvement, undue self-confidence, and an overall lack of understanding of the pulling-yourself-by-the-bootstraps world of America. And, if we’re going to speak in broad, patronizing generalizations, than, yeah, I guess you’re right. Because the internet especially allows anyone who thinks they have something important to say about whose boobs they touched last week or the process of making vegan scrapple is able to put it somewhere and pander for an audience while posting semi-clothed shots on MySpace via a Flickr account that’s also linked to their Facebook page, there’s an air of self-obsession that seeps through the computer screen. Like so many others, I have believed since childhood, that my particular worldview is fascinating to others. I would like to believe that this is a result not of the “everyone is special” movement in primary education, or the internet age (to which I came rather late -- I didn’t have regular internet access until 2003), but because I have always been a raging egomaniac with a superiority complex. Just because no one has confirmed my utter brilliance, doesn’t mean that I’m wrong. Right? Right? It’s a dilemma.