Sometimes

So, what do you do? Is a thing people ask
at parties and bars and speed dating
in New York. Whenever I go home to California,
my whole reservation asks: soooo, what are you
doing
? Which means, what’s more important
than being here with your family and your people
in the valley we’ve lived in for thousands
of years
? Which, heavy. I have people
out here too, who make here feel like home.
It sucks being a sometimes person, some times
here and some times there— the mind like arthritis but really
I’m lucky. Some people never get people. Some
people have to make them up, and get locked away
for talking to them. I’ve never been locked up
but I did come out as bisexual, and was afraid
of my own voice once for 28 years. But now,
karaoke. And the whole block knows when I stub
my toe. It sounds like this: uuuuugggggghhhhhh

The Banal and the Profane: Tommy Pico

Hey friends, Lambda Literary just published this thing I wrote for their column “The Banal & The Profane” about a week in my life. Check it out!!!

mauvelipstick:

hey friends n strangers,
i finished my zine with text by me and drawings by THE Dutchesse Crystal
so if you’d like a copy just email me your address and i’ll gladly send you one.  if we met like once/never and you feel weird asking me for it over email, don’t feel weird.  i often tell people i barely know that they were in my dreams.  you’re in good company.
kmorse@gm.slc.edu
xok

Kayla Morse is one of my favorite living poets and her zine is really really really really really good. SO get one while you can, peeps. High-res

mauvelipstick:

hey friends n strangers,

i finished my zine with text by me and drawings by THE Dutchesse Crystal

so if you’d like a copy just email me your address and i’ll gladly send you one.  if we met like once/never and you feel weird asking me for it over email, don’t feel weird.  i often tell people i barely know that they were in my dreams.  you’re in good company.

kmorse@gm.slc.edu

xok

Kayla Morse is one of my favorite living poets and her zine is really really really really really good. SO get one while you can, peeps.

(via birdsongmag)

Our Kickstarter is reaching it’s final days! Help me fund a “best of” magazine for Birdsong: a Brooklyn-based zine/collective/small press I founded five years ago!! Visit the page and share it and pledge!

(via ultramaricon)

Tomorrow I’ll be tabling at the Brooklyn Zine Fest for Birdsong, hawking some mighty fine self-published writing and art, and promoting our Kickstarter campaign to make a “best of” magazine. I’ll be sitting alongside the dashing Adam J. Kurtz, to whom I owe one million cookies (I forgot to reserve a table this year and he offered me space at his).  
Come say hi and rifle through my zines and tell me I look pretty! That sounds like a joke and it kind of is.  
—Love, Teebs High-res

Tomorrow I’ll be tabling at the Brooklyn Zine Fest for Birdsong, hawking some mighty fine self-published writing and art, and promoting our Kickstarter campaign to make a “best of” magazine. I’ll be sitting alongside the dashing Adam J. Kurtz, to whom I owe one million cookies (I forgot to reserve a table this year and he offered me space at his). 

Come say hi and rifle through my zines and tell me I look pretty! That sounds like a joke and it kind of is.  

—Love, Teebs

Five years ago I started a zine and art collective called “birdsong.” I wanted there to be a home for the work that was being made in my community of writers, artists, and musicians. Today I launched a kickstarter campaign to fund a “best of Birdsong” five year anniversary magazine— I am so excited, nervous, proud, hungry, etc. So please visit the page and pledge and share it with everyone! Love you. Oh and watch the video b/c I am so proud of myself for learning imovie these past couple of weeks!

(getting real with Mz. Kate Wadkins re: technology)I’ve started collecting, writing and re-writing material for Hey Teebs #2, which is going to be a zine-length story in poetry and short prose about dating a drug addict, the weather, internet hook-ups (“fuck the pain away”), memory, “getting back together,” and is set in Brooklyn, my reservation & San Francisco. It grows from a series I started at the end of 2010 called “Doppler,” between Teebs (the narrator) and his boyfriend/exboyfriend Zephyr, which I read in its infancy for Max’s Fagcity series at Pussy Faggot, and Brother My Lover at Envoy Gallery (which I think is now called Participant). It was my project last summer at the Paris American Academy, I used it as the writing sample for my Queer/Art/Mentors fellowship application, and worked on it all October while staying in Portland with Roy. But I’ve let it breathe for the past 8 months because I realized I honestly did not yet have the skills to articulate what I envisioned. Ultimately people don’t think in language—we are interpreters, so I’m giving it another listen. This may be a part of it (in some incarnation):1. June GloomOur well is a Mission kitchen—well vodka rocks half-off, jerkchicken—we’re always brusingour shins.The Franciscan mission systemspread up the coast of Californiain the 1700s, Spain slappingfor a vein at each natural bay.There’s lots you crop from pics, sips of of interests and summary “About Me”s: yr jaggged weaning from mothers milk to Jim Beam.The MUNI whisks along the sametrack, but always forward. You maybe curious to know about the deep dish airport food court pizza,but you won’t be mad— yr head a fog and mattress stuffing— not even in a bad mood. June gloom’ll burn off in the afternoon.

(getting real with Mz. Kate Wadkins re: technology)

I’ve started collecting, writing and re-writing material for Hey Teebs #2, which is going to be a zine-length story in poetry and short prose about dating a drug addict, the weather, internet hook-ups (“fuck the pain away”), memory, “getting back together,” and is set in Brooklyn, my reservation & San Francisco. It grows from a series I started at the end of 2010 called “Doppler,” between Teebs (the narrator) and his boyfriend/exboyfriend Zephyr, which I read in its infancy for Max’s Fagcity series at Pussy Faggot, and Brother My Lover at Envoy Gallery (which I think is now called Participant).

It was my project last summer at the Paris American Academy, I used it as the writing sample for my Queer/Art/Mentors fellowship application, and worked on it all October while staying in Portland with Roy.

But I’ve let it breathe for the past 8 months because I realized I honestly did not yet have the skills to articulate what I envisioned. Ultimately people don’t think in language—we are interpreters, so I’m giving it another listen. This may be a part of it (in some incarnation):

1. June Gloom

Our well is a Mission kitchen—
well vodka rocks half-off, jerk
chicken—we’re always brusing
our shins.

The Franciscan mission system
spread up the coast of California
in the 1700s, Spain slapping
for a vein at each natural bay.

There’s lots you crop from pics,
sips of of interests and summary
“About Me”s: yr jaggged weaning
from mothers milk to Jim Beam.

The MUNI whisks along the same
track, but always forward. You may
be curious to know about the deep
dish airport food court pizza,

but you won’t be mad— yr head
a fog and mattress stuffing— not
even in a bad mood. June gloom’ll
burn off in the afternoon.