Self-Addressed Stamped Envelope

Dear Dead End on Progressive Ave.,

You seem sad lately, upset.

If you're worried no one likes you, you're not alone.

Popularity really doesn't matter as much as you think.

We all tend to take things too seriously.

We are all simply alive and trying to figure out who we are according to ourselves and, maybe even more so, to others (as we often can’t seem to define ourselves any other way), and this is the source of much of our suffering.

Half our lives are over.

Half our lives.

Half our lives are always over.

We will be dead very soon.

Life is so short, so sad.

I want to cry about life all the time.

But there’s no point wasting that time being upset about things that really don’t matter.

The problem with perception is that it convinces us we’re correct in our assumptions, assumptions which most often have no basis in reality (whatever 'reality' is).

When we perceive we are being threatened (ultimately every threat is the threat of death in one form or another), we react.

This is natural.

But our reactions are only based on how we perceive the reactions of other people who have perceived our previous reactions to them as threatening.

There is no end to where this begins.

This is universal.

Suffering is universal.

As I said, you’re not the only who goes through these things.

I, too, am alone.

I am afraid.

I feel sick every day thinking about existence, wondering why it is I suffer from the many problems I have (all of which you already know about, so I'd rather not go into it here), why no one else around me 'appears’ to be suffering as much as I do.

But I think if we all had a chance to ‘exist’ in one another’s heads, for even a brief moment, we would realize there is no such thing as ‘alone’, because we are all suffering.

We are all afraid of that suffering, as we are all afraid of the end of that suffering.

We are all going to die, and we are afraid because we don’t know what that means (let alone what 'life' means).

Ironically, we want to preserve our suffering because it seems to define us, seems to make us feel like we’re different from other people.

We gain a sense of identity from it.

We think it makes us special, gives us a sense of individuality.

It doesn’t.

We are not special, we are not different from other people.

There is no ‘other people’, just our perception of how fragmented existence can seem.

Our reactions to ‘other people’ are just another way of saying we are not happy with ourselves because we have not completely identified or come to terms with those ‘selves’ according to what we perceive as those ‘selves’ as they exist in the world.

So our reactions to ‘other people’ are simply reactions to our ‘selves’, reactions to the individual suffering we perceive (which feels personal but isn’t because all ‘other people’ feel it, too).

Unfortunately, these reactions, too, help to define us—or so we perceive.

You think you’re not one of those writers people like.

As much as this thought upsets you, it gives you a sense of comfort knowing that, in your lack of feeling like you belong, you can somehow know who you are according to who you are not.

You’re not one of those writers people like.

But it doesn’t matter.

You don’t matter.

Neither do I.

I’m trying to appear ‘enlightened’, but the truth is I, too, feel invisible to ‘other people’ while forgetting there's really no such thing as ‘other people’ because we're all the same, because we all feel like this.

We both spend way too much time allowing ourselves to get upset about this.

This is not conducive to a happy existence, and it doesn't solve anything.

We can spend our time much more effectively by accomplishing positive goals which will help us alleviate the suffering we feel.

Essay on 'The Crazy Target Lady' @ The Nervous Breakdown

I wrote an essay up at The Nervous Breakdown today called "'The Crazy Target Lady', or Why You Might Get Trampled to Death This Holiday Season." It's about 'the crazy Target lady' commercials starring comedian Maria Bamford which advertise Target's 2-Day Sale for Black Friday. I examine and 'decode' seven of these commercials, trying to understand/determine their influence on—how they promote dangerous, insane behavior in—the American consumer. Thank you for your time...

UPDATE:

As an addendum to my essay, here's some footage of crazed shoppers at the North Buffalo Target near me trampling each other this morning:

The Medulla Review: Vol. 1 Anthology / Southpaw Journal Issue #6

The Medulla Review: Volume 1 Anthology is now available, and it includes my story "Placebo Effect" (from my unpublished novel The Immortals Act Their Age) which appeared in Issue #3.

This anthology also contains work by Margaret Walther, David S. Pointer, Heather Fowler, Alec B. Kowalczyk, Hugh Fox, Dorianne Laux, Susan Slaviero, Howie Good, Mike Finley, Laura La Hew, J. Michael Wahlgren, John Grey, John Tustin, Felicia Mitchell, Catfish McDaris, Austin S. Kodra, Changming Yuan, Richard Kostelanetz, Jon Wesick, Shome Dasgupta, Ginny Lowe Connors, Len Kuntz, Kritsin Fouquet, Anthony Beal, Andrew Ross, J.A. Tyler, Jane Flett, Sean Ulman, Robert Laughlin, Salena Casha, Adam Moorad, Justin Nicholes, Garrett Socol, Cathy Kodra, Terence Kuch, Rochelle Potkar, Stephen Muret.

Also, England's Southpaw Journal Issue #6 is out, and it contains my story "Public Privacy in Roswell, New Mexico" (also from The Immortals Act Their Age). Here is an excerpt:

He thought about [...] vaginal conditions like weather systems and what it would be like to be his penis or any penis and travel through the vagina wearing a weather balloon for a condom.

Would a vagina not recognize the approaching object as a penis and videotape the event, maybe sell the tape to the evening news as evidence that UFOs exist?

What if a penis crash-landed, scattering bits of debris right outside the vagina, on the outskirts of the vagina?

What would the farmers think?

This issue also contains work from Jake Attree, Mark Staniforth, Gregg Williard, Iain Maloney, Erik Berg, Ollie Smith, JH Martin, Sarah Stevenson and Ashley Taylor.

Thank you for your time...

Cover / Praise for 'Pseudo-Masochism' (Medulla Publishing, 2011)

Here is the cover for my forthcoming chapbook, Pseudo-Masochism (Medulla Publishing, 2011). The cover was designed by my friend, a tattoo/graphic artist named Kenny Dumas. He playfully titled the image "Sado-Mechanism." (Kenny and I have the same birthday, which is neat.) Here are some nice things people I admire said about Pseudo-Masochism:

“Pseudo-Masochism blends bodies together—sexually, cognitively, playfully—to express insecurities, joys, and hopes. The word weapons in Beeny’s arsenal are on full display here, and his greatest feat—and finest irony—is exposure: Beeny blasts the spotlight on his timid narrator who then raises his shyness like a gold crown, flinching, unflinching, eyes adjusting to the brightness.”

—Mel Bosworth, author of Grease Stains, Kismet and Maternal Wisdom


“Yes, there is some sex in Pseudo-Masochism, but it is writhing with themes of love, hate, self-worthlessness and a smattering of oedipal undertones. Beeny’s hand is steady and delicate and writes with penmanship that punctures like a tattoo artist’s needle. This collection made me want to tell someone, everyone, that they are worthy of love—my hands shaking their shoulders.”

—xTx, author of Nobody Trusts a Black Magician


“Eric Beeny says loads in a small space. His writing amasses more and more meaning through the repetition of objects and themes, culminating into something that speaks to the difficulties of sexual intimacy, any sort of intimacy, and maybe just intimacy with himself. Eric Beeny is a goddamn delight.”

—Brandi Wells, co-author of the chapbook collective Fox Force 5

Here is the first story from this collection, "Interpreting Their Genitals," which originally appeared in LITnIMAGE.

'Milk Like a Melted Ghost' / The Nervous Breakdown / Maya-Bot Version 1.0

1 /
My small novel, Milk Like a Melted Ghost, has been accepted for publication by Thumbscrews Press for publication as an e-book in early 2011 (Big thanks to Daniel Casebeer, editor/publisher of Thumbscrews Press and Pear Noir!...).

2 /
I am now a contributor to The Nervous Breakdown. My first post is an essay I wrote called “On the Other Side of the White Wall: A Post Colonial Reading of Real Life.”

3 /
I had a lot fun trick-or-treating with my daughter. Here’s a picture of her in her Halloween costume, Maya-Bot Version 1.0, which we made together: