Tuesday, March 23, 2010
A Fitting End?
From now on, I will be sporadically blogging and over-self-promoting at jaimefountaine.com!
Saturday, March 20, 2010
This Friday:
I have a few more things up various sleeves, but first and foremost, is Toiling IX, the two-year anniversary of the show.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
The Awful Possibilites
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,
Christian TeBordo will be reading at the next Toiling in Obscurity, on March 26th. You can order The Awful Possibilities here.
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.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Observation -- 5:10 R6, Friday
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.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Monday, November 30, 2009
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Never Shoot Heroin with a Guy Named Bones, and Other Important Lessons
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
A Vignette
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.”
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.”
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
And Another Thing!
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!
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!
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Monday, August 10, 2009
All I Ever Wanted
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.
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.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
One Small Step for Jaime...
A story I wrote, "Confetti" will be published in this month's Eastown Fiction.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Sunday, July 5, 2009
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