Posts Tagged ‘punk lit’

Ryder Collins Interview

Saturday, November 5th, 2011


Who are you, and why do you write?

This is where mama wants to get all ironic & be like, I’m an engine driver, & this is just the first question of the interview… That’s also why mama writes. To hide. To be. To hide and be and be exposed all at once.

What does Homegirl! say about the world we live in?
Homegirl! says things about love and things about sex and things that are thought more important than that & shouldn’t be. Homegirl! says live and love and fuck, and live and love and fuck some more, & make sure to own your weird shit, yo and own it and live it, and love and fuck some more.

Small town America: full of hopes and dreams, or boredom and discontent?
Small town America: full of boredom & dreams & bad flan & flannel & strollers & bar-b-q & sometimes, if you’re lucky, sidewalks & sometimes if you’re lucky, dankdank buds, & if you’re unlucky, sublimating virgin shit (why am I tingling) with cheetohs & sometimes if you’re unlucky, your dad busts you for selling lids, yo.

The language in Homegirl!, it’s very fresh, different. What were the influences for this?
Berryman. For reals. When I read & really got “peoples bore me,” from #14, mama was all like, here we go, yo…

What can you tell us about the following: food service, heartbreak, and guns?
I think Homegirl knows more than I do here about food service & heartbreak… plus she’s got a holster in that boot for her glock so she don’t shoot her homegirl toes off.

What’s the story behind mama?
Mama went looking for love & it started raining bullets. Mama got lost in the wrong forest. Mama didn’t have no breadcrumbs, and mama didn’t want no porridge; she just wanted to watch her stories. Mama knew not to open that one door. Mama just knew. Mama was there & the stepsisters were cutting off their toes, trying to jam stumps into magic glass shoes. Mama was all like, I ain’t gonna clean that shit up.

If yourself and Homegirl met in a bar, how well would you get on, what question would you ask her, and who would win in a fight?
We would either be instant besties or we would be hating on each other from the start & trying to stare each other down across the bar. I would ask her, Why has it taken you so long to realize what you want. Or maybe I would ask myself that. Maybe I would ask her, Balaclavaed anarchists? Or maybe I would ask Meta that. In a fight, she’s got the glock but we both gots our hearts on our sleeves tho mine’s a tattoo so I just might win…

What does Punk stand for?
Punk. Punk stands for doing things with garage doors besides opening them & driving a car in; punk stands for doing things with words besides telling stories about a hero’s journey, status quo bedside tables, and women with pregnant bellies rubbing them contentedly; punk stands for Bertha and Grendel getting to speak; punk stands for missing teeth & fucked-up grills; punk stands for tshirts before Urban Outfitters bought out the images; punk stands for something now; punk means feelingliving; most of all, punk means drinking the pibbers cos your ass is broke.

What were the first and last books to blow your mind?
The first book to blow my mind was Oh what a busy day! by Gyo Fujikawa; mama used to read that book for hours & pretend to be allhappyallchildrenallyesallbusy. The last book will be the one that mama reads right before she dies. She’ll be sitting on her porch & her sawed-off shotgun’ll be just in reach & she’ll be 80 at least and highsohigh and reading and reading into that last sunset… In between, mama’s mind’s been blown by Wide Sargasso Sea (the carefulcareful attention to words), Kafka on the Shore (in-between worlds), The Third Policeman (bicycle sex, yes!), Dostoevsky’s Notes from Underground (& Underground Man keeps marching & stomping & marching & stomping & he won’t stop & he can’t stop), & Thomas Bernhard’s Yes!.

The most honest being is …
…Meta? No, he lies. Or she lies. Meta won’t even tell you their sex… Mama? No, mama’ll say anything to get you to read her stuff or leave her alone to watch her stories. Homegirl? Maybe. Or maybe that frog and catting thing?

Love?

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