Friday, May 2, 2008

Origins

I used to publish a small zine (1995 - 2006) called The Lummox Journal. For most of its years it was a monthly affair, which proved to be a daunting task. It wasn't for lack of material, because after the first year or so, I began to receive a lot of submissions. It was mostly poetry and mostly bad, but I was able to glean some gems from the debris, enough for each issue. Over time I also began to receive essays and reviews from my readers. So really, the only thing I had to do was arrange the text and write the lead essay, a sort of "from the Editor's desk" article. This is where the title of this Blog comes from.

For over one hundred issues I wrote "The View From Down Here". I don't think I ever repeated myself, though I did borrow from past themes from time to time. Sometimes the essay was political, sometimes it was personal. I had free reign over what I wrote about (it was my magazine after all) and although I tried very hard not to go overboard, occasionally I did. Then I had to deal with the consequences. It was an interesting learning curve. Eventually, though, the deadlines and the constant need to create an interesting issue began to take a toll on me and I knew I had to take a break. So at the end of 2006 I ceased publication.

This year I put up an issue on my website because I missed the process. At first, in 2007, it felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders and I didn't miss the whole anal business of meeting deadlines and promoting the Journal at every opportunity. But slowly it began to creep into my thoughts and I realized that I missed doing it.

So what I'd like to do here, is resurrect some of the old essays from back in the day. Hopefully they'll reach a wider audience than the 175 or so subscribers I had back then. I'll probably write some new material too, once I get my "sea legs".

Raindog

4 comments:

Pris said...

I'm looking forward to reading these, Raindog. Congrats on being a blogger!

I'll add you to my links next time I go into my blog.

shanna said...

cool Im glad you did I too will add you to my links if I can figure out how to do that..

heh heh
aloha

Unknown said...

Raindog,
Your essays were always my favorite part of the magazine. Being on the job gives you a lot of time to mull things over, I guess.
I'll look forward to reading these.
One of the "old broads"
Julie

LamarT said...

You know, poets are readers, we read and read and read, and we write, we write through every possible material of life and still beyond that into the crawling kudzu or clinging succulents of the Mendocino cliffs where it's just imagination and nothing more. That's us. On the asphalt screaming or on the curb bitching. In the cool humid clubs and in smokey incense
and camel-non thick rooms. Over a slab of ribs or over a bowl of ramen noodles.
Poets and writers. Readers and revelers. Raindog the Revelator. I love reading his poetry. It is on a level with Ray Clark Dickson, jazzy at times, mid length lines, possession and dream, drunk hungry and coffee amped horny. Poetry.
Fuck man, read Fire And Rain.
You know you've been there,
"She slipped out of my feeble grasp/
and moved over to be with her lover"
You know you've been there in the bar with a girl you've longed for, she comes close and tells you you're great, then moves "on over to be with her lover", and you just stand there reaching for that mint or cigarette, lifting your glass and somehow being glad that it's better to go home and write about it than to be caught in the suburban trap of lied love and the ties that bind.
Go Raindog. Go. You are a brother in our languages of the 21st century narrative and I am happy to have been reading and sharing so many poems, so many wild ass songs of Southern burnt horizons and Western roads to wave and red wood.
Buy the books and read them folks.
Read the blogs and know you've been there. We are all a part of the Lummox trade. We are all together by strained verse and open links.