Mike Daily is the author of two novels, Alarm and Valley. Next year, Lazy Fascist will publish his third novel, The Moon Babes of Bicycle City. I encourage everyone to make it out to one of Daily’s spoken word performances (or just pick up Alarm, which comes with two albums). He’s one of the most original (not to mention kindest) creative people I’ve met since moving to Portland. I can’t wait for The Moon Babes of Bicycle City to drop. For now, check out Mike Daily’s other work, as well as these other books that he recommends:
When I get into a guy, I have to get all the guy’s stuff. After reading Person, I emailed Sam Pink and asked how much it would cost to order his other books. Sam responded. He could mail me copies of Frowns Need Friends Too and You Hear Ambulance Sounds and Think They Are for You, but he didn’t have I Am Going to Clone Myself Then Kill the Clone and Eat It. I ordered what I could. The copies arrived in a brown paper bag package. There was a scraped-away strip under MEDIA MAIL SUBJECT TO INSPECTION like a flight of stairs or an accordion. Sam Pink had inscribed one of the books: “Mike – / my teeth hurt / from grinding / them in / my sleep / [heart shape drawing] [Signature].” I have to get all the guy’s stuff.
In the late ’90s, I became a member of Postal Blowfish, Guided by Voices’ Fan Club. Laminates entitled Postal Blowfish members to score “nuggets”–exclusive deals on GBV music and merch at shows. They even made a cool ‘zine called Full Court Press. In Robert Pollard We Trusted . . . guzzling domestic beer by the suitcase, rocking out with shirttails out, high-top Converses fully laced. Even though I recently attended their reunion show, it’s hard for me to get that into GbV now. Maybe quitting drinking ten years ago has something to do with it. I received Bob’s slick cut-and-paste collages/lyrics coffee table book Town of Mirrors for my birthday, however, and love it.
Black Sparrow Press never did this, but Bottle of Smoke Press did: each letterpress-printed cover of this 396-page limited-edition was hand-rolled with white ink in unique patterns. San Francisco poet and Second Coming litmag publisher A.D. Winans could be classified as a musician even though (as far as I know) he doesn’t play any instruments. A.D.’s poems make you feel like you’re hearing live music as you read, melodies streaming from the gutter of every spread.
Word of mouth is how I found out about Justin Hyde. Actual word of mouth. I was having a phone conversation with a bookseller/small press publisher from Holland and he brought up the name Justin Hyde. Justin Hyde is from Iowa, where he works as a correctional officer. He often writes at a local truck stop, or in his basement. Hyde started writing at 27 (he will turn 33 in February). His work slices your psyche with honesty, unexpected swerves and succinctness. Comparisons with Charles Bukowski have been drawn and debated. Down Where the Hummingbird Goes to Die (Tainted Coffee Press, 2008) was Justin Hyde’s first collection of poems. Another Casualty at the 34th Street Bus Stop (Liquid Paper Press, 2009) was his second. Presently, there are enough Hyde poems published online to fill three new books, easy.
“Peace JACQUELINE! Thanks for checking us out!”—Fifth Element’s email salutation to my mom after she pre-ordered this glossy hardcover book of photos for me as a gift. The long-awaited tome documents nearly ten years of Atmosphere and Rhymesayers artists, and includes a 15-track compilation CD. Thanks Ma! I’m looking forward to it. Peace.