The Bushwick Review, issue V is now available for purchase in these fine NYC-based stores:
DESERT ISLAND - 540 Metropolitan Ave, Brooklyn, NY 11211
BLUESTOCKINGS - 172 Allen St, New York, NY 10002
BOOK THUG NATION - 100 North 3rd Street, Brooklyn, NY 11249
ST. MARKS BOOKSHOP - 136 E 3rd St, New York, NY 10009
You should visit these shops and buy your books there and care for them. All these shops have nice people working at them, whom I got to interact with only by going there.
As I walked from St. Marks new, smaller location, and then past Kim’s Video & Music’s bleak “STORE CLOSING SALE / EVERYTHING MUST GO 50% OFF SALE” sign, I felt sad, but also committed. The fight to save good places is real, people. Support the bookstores and places you love by buying stuff from them, or if you can’t afford to right now, just be there, visit, who knows when they will be gone. There’s nothing nicer than wondering aimlessly in a bookstore, browsing among other people who love doing the same.
My friend Andrew Worthington mailed me an advanced review copy of his first novel ‘Walls’ on May 11th, 2014, along with a $5 check to pay me back for a gin and tonic I bought him when I was visiting New York the previous month. He asked me for a blurb to put on the back of the book. I obliged after reading the novel and enjoying it, but then I realized that writing blurbs is a terrifying nightmare and I suddenly felt completely incapable of writing one. Anyways, here are the blurbs I ended up writing:
If you feel positively about even one of these things: sex, drugs, happiness, the laughter of small children, bacon, cashmere, any disney movie, efforts to reverse global warming, adorable animals, then you will LOVE Walls by Andrew Worthington.
I once heard a story about Andrew Worthington secretly putting orange juice in guacamole because he thought it would taste good, but then the guacamole just tasted like orange juice and it was bad. He didn’t do anything like that with this book.
One time I bought Andrew Worthington a drink, then I moved across the country and he mailed me a $5 check to cover the cost of the drink, which was $8.
One time Andrew Worthington brought blood sausage to a rooftop barbecue and I ate it because I felt bad that nobody else was eating it.
Andrew Worthington looks a lot like Dermot Mulroney, who is an actor that I didn’t know about at all until someone told me Andrew Worthington looks like him.
An engrossing book and one that is often difficult to swallow, emotionally. Ultimately redemptive, uplifting, great characterization. Well done. -An Amazon customer review for Freedom by Jonathan Franzen
Ultimately, none of my blurbs were used to promote Andrew’s book. Which I think was a really smart decision on behalf of Andrew and/or his publisher.
After all my blurbs were rejected, I offered to interview Andrew instead. It took us ~1.5 months and 52 emails before we finally sat down and had a Gchat conversation. Which, by the way, has nothing to do with Andrew, who is very reliable. It is entirely due to me constantly forgetting to respond to his emails for multiple weeks.
The following is my conversation with Andrew Worthington, author of Walls, which is available now via Civil Coping Mechanisms.
Beaches of the Big North by Scott Krave
Eyes itch because of tears. Typical EMOs suffer from this incurable ailment. Life can become so beautiful one wants to cry. Using the reverse scenario it can become so hopeless that one can only cry. Netflix can reduce both of these emotions. Netflix is the ultimate numbing device. Consuming culture through Netflix brings the passiveness of television onto the otherwise interactive internet. Streams from Netflix move people away from other people. Forms of communication can be pacified through this approach. Recognizing people one has never met is part of the internet’s appeal. By meeting someone before meeting someone a better impression can be made. On the internet there are no first impressions.
Leaves get all skeletal then get all dead. That’s winter. What’s strange is how new leaves grow after winter, oblivious to their own limited lifespan. Do leaves even realize when they are going to die? Do they feel it in their leafy bones? How did pine needles ever get so lucky? Did pine needles make a deal that in exchange for being painfully boring they are granted everlasting life? It certainly seems that pine needles beat the system in that regard. Perhaps pine needles are simply cowards looking for way out. This might explain why evergreens hide their seeds in pine cones.
Sex on every street corner should not be discouraged. Part of growing up is learning to care enough about people in order to have sex with them. This never changes. Horny teenagers can be from anywhere. It is the same thing: sweet talk, butting heads, mating, and sometimes procreating. It is not necessary to procreate. If it was then the teenage years would herald the beginning of so many families. Teenagers are difficult enough to deal with, and then add in crying babies and it becomes unbearable. In comparison to screaming infants teenagers are only marginally worse. At least infants don’t melt crayons onto apocalyptic teddy bears. That’s a teenage thing.
Dream waters are made for streaming. Every stream of consciousness requires at least one swimmer. A lifeguard of the stream of consciousness can save someone from getting trapped inside their own head. Oftentimes consciousness can become too much. That’s why the dreams are a different stream, one not paid enough heed. When one pays attention to the dream streams one can really succeed at navigating at life. Life is beautiful. Life requires strength borne after years of trying and failing. Without failure life would be boring.
Scott Krave can be found around Cleveland during the summer months and maybe somewhere else in the fall. He has been featured in various spots around the internet. He likes hanging around shops that serve cheap coffee and bake donuts in house.
no way to anywhere
no matter the depth of the holes dug into the beach
no matter the shotgun tipped back and tasted
no matter the hunger engorged on…