Lunar Park

BRIAN ALAN ELLIS

Elle Nash is rad as fuck—for real—and she publishes Witch Craft Magazine—rad dot com—and is the author of a poetry chapbook entitled i can remember the meaning of every tarot card but i can’t remember what i texted you last night (Nostrovia Press, 2016)—rad title—and she’s tight with Chelsea Laine Wells and Elizabeth Ellen, two of my favorite writers/people—rad company—and she loves professional wrestling—hella rad—and she also used to give people spray tans for a living—apparently not rad at all but whatevz—and she was rad enough to answer my rad questions—pretty damn rad, overall.  

BRIAN ALAN ELLIS: According to your website bio, you live in “the Ozarks” with your husband and some animals. I have no idea what that entails, though I picture you and your husband washing clothes in a creek while eating berries and meditating, perhaps summoning ancient spirits or whatever. Accurate, or no?

ELLE NASH: I’m eating berries right now, does that count?

BAE: Sure.

EN: We live in a town now—with a Walmart and everything!—but when we first moved here we stayed with some friends in a mostly off-grid home in the woods; they had electricity, but no plumbing. It was great. I had no cell service and felt kind of crazy about being so cut off, but damn it also made my mind rest easy

BAE: Hmm… I’m good.

EN: The Ozarks stretch from the upper east corner of Oklahoma, through northwest Arkansas and into southern Missouri.

BAE: *literally has no clue where those places even fall on a map*

EN: The whole area is absolutely magical to me and even in town we’re still pretty close to nature. We are currently debating if we want to buy land and build a place to live away from town or not, but also that means saving money, which is kind of a long process. Also, dude, you can summon ancient spirits anywhere. It don’t have to be in the middle of the woods.

Like Lovecraft In Brooklyn: Battering the Stem by Bob Freville

by Ash Lomen 

Clayvon's King Prawn Chicken N' Biscuits is about to have one hell of a day. From the unspeakable horrors hidden within the owner's office desk to the homicidal vagrant clenching his fists outside the bulletproof glass with fire in his eyes, the whole goddamn establishment is about to be clawed open, kicking and screaming, its insides exposed to the rest of Crown Heights in all their warty glory. I'll be honest, the soul food at Clayvon's  leaves something to be desired, the shrimp are gangly and undersized, the biscuits taste like sawdust, and the chicken is green and grey with age... but the people, now they are something to write home about: "Snow Flake" the acting manager whose Irish family might have some connection to the infamous Westies, Ritz the self-appointed hero still in the throes of detox, Edge the madman about to try and pry open Pandora's box, and a supporting cast of one eyed clerks, cooks with something to prove, and cops who are every bit as obstinate and useless as their uniforms would suggest. These characters propel a chaotic story through a building tension of paranoia straight on into the orgasmic release of violence that is the climax.  And you will miss them when they are gone. 

After reading Battering The Stem I keep thinking about of some of the better works of filmmaker Harmony Korine . Spring Breakers and Gummo specifically pop to mind.  As the reader, you are spared no ugly detail in this hyperrealistic world. You are given lingering close-ups of every ingrown hair, every bleeding pair of gums. You are reminded that people can be ugly. But just like with Korine, you are also reminded that people, even the ugly ones (inside and out) can still surprise you.

CONTINUE READING ON CLASH

CHECK OUT BATTERING THE STEM BY BOB FREVILLE