when do i get all the money again?

did you hear how they said my name?; mixed media on canvas, 8 x 8 x 1.5 inches.

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The poet Ariel Gordon tapped me for this internet meme called A Few Questions About Writing. FINE. I CAN BE HELPFUL. The questions and answers follow.

What am I working on?

How dare you. I didn't come here for this. I didn't pick up the phone and then set it down on the counter without saying anything while I made myself a peanut butter sandwich (peanut butter plus butter, which I know most people find disturbing) before realizing that the phone wasn't even plugged in. That this is an internet meme. So the chain of evidence is largely email. Or rather, exclusively email. If you can call the emails you get through Facebook true emails. Like some uncle who has to touch every envelope before it goes into your mail box. An uncle who never tells you what he's really thinking, and always wears a hood. And lives under your stairs. Anyway, I didn't answer yes to that email only to be excoriated for what I may or may not be working on. Or if I'm working at all. What is this, some kind of artist inquisition? LET'S SEE YOUR WORST THEN. Just do the world a favour and start with the poets – they smell like severed feet and are as flimsy as poppy heads.

How does my work differ from other work in its genre?

Probably the lack of any money. I draw on pages ripped from books I've found on the sidewalk, for fuck's sake. Which should tell you what I think about art that is precious. Art should be strange and compelling and unique. If you find yourself stenciling the word 'CHARITY' onto anything, or worrying about how you sign your name, then you're fucked.

As for my writing, it now consists solely of lists – of people I want to get even with. Mostly historical figures, like Caesar and Charles the Bold (NOT SO BOLD NOW, ARE YOU, CHARLES?).

Why do I write what I do?

Who the fuck knows? You might as well ask radon why it insists on being radioactive. Luminescent and causes cancer! Being a writer is like a being a comedian who can only tell jokes alone, backstage. It's a senseless skill to have but a terrible thing to be. Encourage your loved ones to take up drag racing or binge drinking instead.

How does my writing process work?

I always carry a quality pen and pocket notebook and I'm constantly observing the world and writing insane, meaningless notes to myself – these flawed ideas that I'll never, ever follow up on. Then, when I'm forced to write an actual narrative, there's no pressure because my process is already fucked, and the resulting story will probably just be more bat-shit craziness. Also, knowing that no one will ever take the time to read it helps immensely.

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