Goodreads Book Giveaway: All Art is Junk

I’m having an art bonanza!

In an effort to enforce my political, epistemological, ontological and aesthetic opinions onto everybody I know and everybody I don’t know, I’m giving away 2 copies of my critically praised novella,

ALL ART IS JUNK.

 

All Art is Junk by R. A.  Harris

All Art is Junk

by R. A. Harris

Giveaway ends September 30, 2013.

See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.

Enter to win

The competition opens on September 1st, and runs until the 30th.

**On top of receiving a copy of the book, each winner will also be eligible to receive a copy of my other book, Apparatus of Capture, a chapbook published by Dynatox Ministries.**

Just what is an All Art is Junk?

Lana Rivers, a girl with paintbrush hair, is missing, and it’s up to Lancelot, her cyborg knight, and Cilia, his conjoined twin, to find her in a world where an oceanic deluge has swept 99.99% of mankind from the face of the Earth and all that remains is a single floating art installation populated by people hooked on a drug known as oil.

Lancelot has been charger by Jessica Rivers, Lana’s mother, to protect Lana at all costs from her malignant and psychopathic father, Mansell Rivers, so when she goes missing, Mansell is the number one suspect. A mad-scientist who secretly wishes he was a respected artist, Mansell plans on doing some terrible things to his daughter, unless Lancelot can find her in time. However, as Lancelot attempts to rescue Lana, the people of the installation begin to behave in strange and erratic ways, forming gangs and going to war against each other, as a ceaseless drum soundtrack shakes the very foundation of their world.

In his quest to rescue Lana, Lancelot will discover the origin of oil and himself, and in doing so, learn more about humanity than he ever expected.

Praise for All Art is Junk and R. A. Harris

Harris brings this world to life as if he were painting the pages rather than writing them

- Vincenzo Bilof, author of Gravity Comics Massacre

It’s a novel about loss and identity. It’s about robot dragons and writhing sky-high human-body totems. I like what it did to me.

[R. A. Harris] is one of the most original up-and-coming voices out of England.

- G. Arthur Brown, author of Kitten

Cyborgs! Evil art installations! Art theory! Well, not so much art theory, but plenty of violent, intense, often dense (not in a bad way, like Heart of Darkness dense) bizarro prose.

- M. P. Johnson, author of The After-life Story of Pork Knuckles Malone

R. A. Harris has a talent for writing sexy gross stuff

- Jordan Krall, author of Your Cities, Your Tombs

HOLY MOUNTAIN OUTREACH

I’m currently looking for bizarro works of 7-20k for consideration for publication by HOLY MOUNTAIN OUTREACH. If you’re interested, hit me up at leakylibido (at) mail (dot) com and put ‘Holy Mountain Outreach’ in the subject line. You can send me pitches or complete manuscripts with a synopsis (keep it short and sweet though). Pay is $25 + 5 copies of your exclusive, limited edition chapbook.
I want more literary style bizarro. Pitches do not have to be high concept.

 

logo

Holy Mountain Outreach

 

check out bizarrocentral for more information on bizarro fiction.
check out Dynatox Ministries for more information on Holy Mountain Outreach as well as all the other exciting things happening there.

Review: You Are Sloth! by Steve Lowe

Steve Lowe has a remarkable talent to write stories that are at once grotesque, imaginative and absolutely funny, but that have a moral dimension to them too. In You Are Sloth, he uses a bold style, told in a second-person point of view, to tell the story of the time you click a link in a spam e-mail, subject line “you are sloth” and find yourself transformed into a sloth.

But why? Why would this happen? Why a sloth?

That is the mystery, and it’s up to you and your “friends”, Randy (maybe retarded) and Cross (probably an a-hole) to solve it. Will you find out who the deranged individual known only as “The Spammer” is, or why they chose to target you and turn you into a sloth? Perhaps slower than usual (thanks to your newfound slothiness), you will begin to unravel this mystery.

Continue reading

Author Interview: Tamara Romero

Despite what you will no doubt see on world news in the coming weeks, Leaky Libido is not a breeding ground for sub-par boy bands. The allegations–that we take disenfranchised, disillusioned and angry young males into our training camps, where we train them to sing to a low standard, dress them like communists (ie. the same) and send them into the world to wreak havoc by becoming unattainable objects for a whole generation of women, turning them off less attractive men (ie. the entire male population), and thus, causing the inevitable collapse of western civilisation through a lack of workers–are spurious and facetious. It is an ad-hoc story concocted by a discontent author named Tamara Romero, who is upset at the outcome of a game of charades we played last spring. We won’t go into details, there’s no need to open that can of worms again. We will beat this!

As you can no doubt tell from this photo, Tamara is a whizz at charades. She even once beat the Queen.

As you can no doubt tell from her sly smile in this photo, Tamara Romero is a whizz at charades. She even once beat the Queen. With her eyes closed.

Continue reading

Author Interview: Gabino Iglesias

The following is a transcription of a conversation recorded in sporadic bursts over the last eighty years. This is due to unforseen circumstances that are not in any form the fault of Leaky Libido, its derivatives, editors, contributors or victims. I mean guests. Guests. Blame the Nazis.

Anyway, this interview is with the amazing Gabino Iglesias!

Gabino Iglesias isAuthor Gabino Iglesias

Continue reading

Skurvy Ink Shirt, All Art is Junk, New Author interviews coming soon!

After what must seem like an eon in your pathetically dull lives, Leaky Libido returns with another dose of hearty fun delivered straight from the teat of my mind.

Actually, it’s just a series of statements regarding developments. However, I spice things up a little by including an image of a cat, and mentioning the word orgasm, twice! Onto the news!

1. I will be posting new author interviews very soon. It turns out that there actually are secret agents who go by the name “surname, name surname”, and they do attempt to thwart evil attempts at world domination. I met a couple in the last few weeks and had to spend a little time in detention, at her majesty’s pleasure – which, as it turns out, was also at my pleasure too (but that is a tale for another time!).

2. I wrote a surreal chapbook that was published by Dynatox Ministries (and yes, there are some copies left!). It features awesome artwork the aesthetic thud hammer, T. W. Harris. Sam McCanna at the fabulous Skurvy Ink has slapped it on a t-shirt:

T-shirt design featuring artwork by Thom Harris

9 out of 819 women asked said that a ball of tube/worms on a t-shirt would make them more likely to have sex with the man wearing it. 100% of men asked said that it would not affect their feelings of attraction towards a woman if she was wearing it. They would however, be more inclined to have sex with a man who was wearing it. We did some calculations, that makes this t-shirt ‘sexy’.

3. I also wrote another book called “All Art is Junk” and apparently you suckers aren’t buying it in droves like you should be. I put at least 8% of my heart and soul into that mother, and so if you’d do me the honour of purchasing a copy, I guarantee you orgasm after orgasm until you die.

All Art is Junk jacket

It features a fucking cat, what more do you people want? Design by the talented Mr. Matthew Revert

Bizarro Pulp Press didn’t publish it so you could look at it, gawk and then reject it based on the title alone. They published it because it’s brilliant. Here’s what somebody who read it had to say (they chose to remain anonymous due to not wanting to be named):

R. A. Harris wrote this book called All Art is Junk. Thankfully, his book is so unartistic, as to be pornographic, that the title is not self-defamatory. Judging from this book,  all art is junk, if it’s made by somebody like R. A. Harris, who obviously thinks the world shines out of his arse.

Now, if that isn’t a ringing endorsement, I don’t know what is. You can buy it at Amazon, or the UK site.

Stay sexy, slavish fans!

Author Interview: Andrew Wayne Adams

Lo! Step 3 of my scheme unfolds before your very eyes! But wait! what is this? Rather than admit to nefarious and dastardly goals, I have it on good authority that I ought to confound your expectations by disseminating that I am reformed. I no longer harbor ambitions of global revolution and worship. I merely wish to better inform the world about certain writers who I think deserve praise and a spotlight on their faces.

The interview is a little later than usual, because I had to track the victim guest down (apparently I was looking for the wrong person). But I get besides myself.

Ladies and gentlemen,

This time, I have the pleasure to introduce a fabulous man, who readily admits to being an author of Bizarro fiction and an inevitable in-swirl of zero-dimensional points and a poet, painter, musician, filmmaker, dancer, geneticist, geologist, vampire, and idiot. Yes, of course, I’m talking about none other than Andrew Wayne Adams!

Andrew Wayne Adams looks like Randy Savage

After an unsuccessful 2011, many pundits implored Andrew not to continue with his impersonations of Randy Savage. But as you can see, after ninety successful surgeries (And thirty unsuccessful ones) Andrew has achieved a remarkable likeness for the Macho Man. In fact, he was the fifth most successful impersonator of the Macho Man in February, 2013. Well done, Andrew.

Continue reading

Author Interview: J W Wargo

It’s time for the next stage in my master plan for global domination through engineering discontent amongst the populace by spreading disinformation and propaganda about some of my favourite new authors.

This week I have the pleasure of perverting the words of the great J W Wargo, perhaps the greatest psychoanalyst turned nomadic Bizarro author of our century, towards my ambitious scheme.

J W Wargo

Erroneously thought to be the single most important picture uploaded to the internet, this image of J W Wargo has been the object of intense staring and manic stroking by some 10 million viewers to date.

Behold, the interview begins! Continue reading

Author Interview: G. Arthur Brown

LeakyLibido: Hello, welcome to a new segment on my blog where I disseminate, through a puppet interview, top-secret information given to me in confidence by authors I respect. Expect some real juicy gossip and drama folks. So without further ado, I will ask the first question:

Who are you? What are you? Where are you from? What are you about?

Simulacrum: I’m G. Arthur Brown. I’m half Elf. I’m from Maryland, USA (that’s where Baltimore is, for all you fans of the Wire). I’m about five and one half feet tall.

G. Arthur Brown

Actually a stock photo of a man with a mini face. Purportedly, the model is an exact look-a-like of G. Arthur Brown, but how true this claim is remains indefinite.

LeakyLibido: That’s all real fascinating stuff, G. Tell me, what are you promoting or writing right now?

Simulacrum: I’m promoting my book Kitten. Part of the 2012 New Bizarro Author Series from Eraserhead Press. So, please, buy at least 5 copies.

LeakyLibido: Oh yeah, I know that one. You can buy that one on amazon. I hear that it’s “one part a nightmarish family saga, and one part a fantastic, surreal voyage of discovery for a kitten. It’s a seriously fun mix of grotesque humour and sombre existential horror”, which sounds nice.

kitten

So, moving on. What made you want to write, authentic G. Arthur Brown?

Simulacrum: I received a message from God when I was about 10 years old that I would be a writer. Like many great prophets, I tried to flee my destiny by pursuing, instead, being in a rock band and, briefly, being a comedian. But God tracked me down about 7 years ago and said, “Remember what I told you?”

LeakyLibido: That sounds remarkable. But surely, if God commanded you to be a writer, then why do you write bizarro fiction? I can fathom not that God would wish this filth upon any mortal man, especially not one of his chosen prophets.

Simulacrum: You might as well ask a tree, “Why vegetation?” I tried to write genre stuff: Lovecraftian weird fiction, Gaimanesque fantasy, Anthony Burges-inspired sci-fi. But I kept wanting to subvert and/or pervert the text and forms. Once I found Bizarro, I knew that this was the flag that would be flown over much of my fiction.

LeakyLibido: God does indeed work in mysterious ways. Who else, aside from the Almighty, would you say inspires you?

Simulacrum: Films inspire me quite a bit. Guy Maddin, Terry Gilliam and the Coen Brothers have affected me deeply. Psychedlic 60s rock and Post-punk music have also impacted my ideas about melding weirdness and pop sensibilities. If I’d never been exposed to Devo, the Residents and Syd Barrett, in particular, I’m sure my writing would be entirely different. Comedy has played a big role, too, with Monty Python being one of my first exposures to absurd and surreal techniques.

LeakyLibido: That’s a fascinating list of inspirations. Who would you say are your favourite writers?

Simulacrum: Kelly Link and Brian Evenson tie for absolute favorites. Link has such an amazing dreamlike quality to her prose that it immediately began to change my approach to writing. Evenson has the amazing gift to produce literary effects that you can’t put your finger on what to call them or how he produced them. But these two geniuses are sort of a yin and yang for me, Link being the wonder-inducing daylight and Evenson being the creepy dark hours.

LeakyLibido: You have mentioned a few different musical styles so far. Do you have any particular favourite type of music you like to listen to whilst working? I expect it will be hymn or gospel music, won’t it?

Simulacrum: I generally will try to listen to only instrumental music when writing. Space Oddities 1 & 2, two compilations of quirky European instrumental music intended for educational and public service soundtracks. Sometimes I’ll listen to grim Black Metal, as long as the lyrics aren’t in English (so, Tulus or Khold or Horna primarily). Also the experimental stuff by Swell Maps.

LeakyLibido: Ah, I see. Well, how about telling me something you hate?

Simulacrum: Hypocrisy.

LeakyLibido: And one thing you love?

Simulacrum: Cheese.

LeakyLibido: Who doesn’t love a bit of cheese? Tell me, young squire – if you were at the point of a sword and the hand that held the other end was attached to an arm that was attached to a torso that was attached to a head, via a neck, and on that head there was a mouth and that mouth did move and sounds were elicited in that movement that formed the words, “sum up your life philosophy in five words”, what, pray, would you say?

Simulacrum: Mind your own business, man.

LeakyLibido: Oh, ok. Well… erm… how do you take your coffee?

Simulacrum: I prefer tea. But if I must have coffee, sweet and light.

LeakyLibido: And if people are cheap (they are) and want to read your stories for free before giving you money in exchange for a joyful experience like what they will experience when they read your book, where should they look?

Simulacrum: A Public Luncheon was published at the Dream People (http://www.dharlanwilson.com/dreampeople/issue32/fictionbrown.html). Holy Olivia Orphanage at Paragraph Line (http://www.paragraphline.com/2012/05/07/holy-olivia-orphanage-by-g-arthur-brown/). And there is a ton of my flash at garthurbrown.blogspot.com.

LeakyLibido: Well, G, thank you for an awesome interview. Despite it getting a little icy at the end there.

Simulacrum: Thank you LL for being an awesome blog.

LeakyLibido: Oh G, you didn’t have to say that.

Simulacrum: Yes I did, you wrote it. In fact, I never said that, this wasn’t part of the interview. You are making this part up as a way of ending the narrative, giving a sense of closure to the preceding interview. I wasn’t even icy, that was you doing it to yourself. I may even look into suing you for defamation.

LeakyLibido: Oh shit, it’s gaining sentience… Quick, shoot it in the head!

*END OF TRANSCRIPT*

Apparatus of Capture – limited edition chapbook published by Dynatox Ministries

I suggest you listen to this music as you read this post:

 

So, Dynatox Ministries - run by the eminent Jordan Krall, who comes from New Jersey (the location of Jerseylicious, so you know he’s the balls and knows his shit) – is publishing APPARATUS OF CAPTURE, a super surreal and sexy story of mine, as an ultra rare limited edition chapbook. It’s super awesome and chock full of amazing writing that will make your brain spasm with joy and fear that something this superlative could ever come into existence. Dynatox Ministries is publishing some downright nasty weird fiction, and I am proud to be a part of the fantastic line they’re producing.

 

Now, I am no expert, but having watched the Sopranos I believe that 95% of all men in New Jersey are part of the Mafia. For an idea of the kind of man Krall is, watch this:

 

Also, having watched Jerseylicious as research before agreeing to a publishing deal with Krall, I have come to the conclusion that 75% of all women in New Jersey enjoy having big hair and OTT make-up. For an idea of the kind of smarts people from New Jersey have, watch this:

 

If this shit was a film, it would win the Best Picture Oscar. It’s that damn good. Bradley Pitts is the star. He’s super sexy and suits the book perfectly…

 

Only, Mr. T already bought all the copies of my book, and if you want yours, you’ll have to go through him… This is his message to all you people who want a slice of my shit:

 

In closing, you should buy my books because it’s cheaper than the Playstation 4, you can instantly share it with your friends, it’s an Oscar worthy story, the cover is sublime (artwork by Thom Harris) and the soundtrack is awesome Darkjazz.

You can get it for dirt cheap too, like $15 in the USA, and $20 worldwide. That’s right, this is global, baby. Just paypal the correct amount as a “personal gift” to Jordan Krall: gorshinary[at]juno[dot]com and you will receive a copy of the book really soon and then you won’t have to imagine anything ever again, I promise you I have made imagination obsolete with this book.

Also, if you’re into reading on your hi-tech gizmos, your iPhones and your Blackberries and all that, you can also video the book as you read it the first time and then watch the video of you reading it in the future to save you the trouble of carrying this massive tome around in your pocket all day. They don’t call me Rob “The Solution” Harris for nothing.

??????????????????????????????????????? AofC

 

 

A Review of: Diegeses by D. Harlan Wilson

Design by Matthew Revert

And so it is finally time for another review… this time: DIEGESES by D. HARLAN WILSON

D. Harlan Wilson has quickly asserted himself as an exemplary example of a new wave of writers unafraid to engage in what can only be described as “post-storytelling”. Frenetic pace, schizo-language, ultraviolence, ridiculous plots and hilarious characters all conspire to create truly remarkable works of fiction in every one of his books.

His latest, DIEGESES consists of two shorter novellas titled “The Bureau of Me” and “The Idaho Reailty” published by Anti-Oedipus Press – if you have read Deleuze & Guattari’s works, you will realize this is a clue as to the nature of Wilson’s writing. The two stories combine, in my opinion, to create a rhizome of sorts. It grows from the middle between them. It is about the tension between two movements of the self, each one is headed in a different direction – TBoM, a territorializing movement towards the structured, stratified reality of ego and sense; TIR, a deterritorializing movement towards the Body without Organs.

“The Bureau of Me” introduces us to Curd, an actor of sorts who relies on alcohol, bad breakfasts and sex with his assistant to get through life. He’s also plagued by a shadowy organization known as The Bureau of Me, whose agents cordially invite him to something unspecified. Is Curd suffering as a paranoiac machine, bearing witness to a false movement of persecutory agents intent on doing him harm? He wants to be free, but finds himself continually repressed, depressed and contained by external pressures to become something solid to become an identity. The Bureau of Me is an external representation of his own fears that set his own body against him – hence his witnessing a scene where two men eat each other, at first it seems they will embrace before they engage in devouring each other’s flesh.

Moving into “The Idaho Reality” we see the world as a vignette, reality as layers piled on top of one another – it begins with the world as a stage and everything is signs. Perhaps covering the true reality, perhaps as the true reality, that is not important. What is important is that we witness Curd as an actor portraying somebody else and the story moves away from this at the end. If the Bureau of Me is about a paranoiac machine being triangulated to become an Ego, then The Idaho Reality is about the deterritorialization of the strata of reality into a desert: It is about becoming a Body without Organs – represented by Curd’s final foray into a desert. It is about losing yourself, rather than finding yourself. Becoming-schizophrenic, not in a clinical sense, but becoming as the world itself is: schizophrenia as a mode of production.

This is a fascinating text, full of Wilson’s signature prose and wit, superb descriptions, fantastic dialogue and radical mobilization of Deleuze and Guattari’s philosophy. It can be enjoyed on many levels, because it is so wonderfully written. It is one that I will have to come back to again and again in order to read more fully what Wilson is saying, but highly recommend that people read regardless of their interest in that side of it, because Wilson is a sublime writer.

Pick up your copy of Diegeses at amazon.co.uk or at amazon.com and check out Wilson’s other work at his site, check out the third part of his SciKungFi trilogy too @  thekyotoman.com

Congestion Charge

Traffic marshall McCloud wears a bandanna and scares the good people with his sword. The sword is on fire because protocol requires the maximum hazard potential as well as the maximization of revenue from traffic violations. McCloud’s reputation has become significant, and profits have been dropping for some time.

The city is a quiet place now, no beep beep or chainsaw engine revs. Marshall McCloud sits on a mountain of flame-grilled pedestrian flesh. His skin is charred, his hair is smoky and he has a permanent cough.

Never Meet Your Heroes

I had an imaginary friend once. Well, he came from a book I read so he was technically the author’s imaginary friend, but I liked to think he was mine still. I called him Dexter but he said his name was Patrick. We never agreed on that. It didn’t matter too much because he’d still respond when I called him Dexter, even if it was with a visible annoyance.

We used to hang out. Well, he’d come out the book and then start trying to get out the house but he couldn’t work out how the doors opened. That made me chuckle. I guess the author didn’t think about that aspect of his character when he wrote him. He didn’t like it that I laughed at his misfortune. He used to call me a bitch and start slapping me.

One time when he was giving the old palm off I told him to get back in the book if he didn’t like it here. It’s not like he needed to come visit me. I had plenty of friends that came from other books. He didn’t like that either (I didn’t really have any other friends, but he wasn’t to know that). We got into a heated discussion, well, argument, about it. He said I was a whore who used him for my sexual perversions. I had no idea what he meant. I told him he chose to come here. I didn’t care if he never showed up again. I certainly didn’t care to have sex with him. His temper really turned me off. He said fine and stormed in.

Occasionally I’d turn to random pages of his book and sure enough, there was Patrick being sweet to his girlfriend Sandra, or he’d be helping out feeding homeless people at a shelter. I didn’t get why he was such an arsehole to me when he seemed so kind in the book. I eventually lost interest in him anyway. Other characters came along who were much friendlier.

My favourites were Martin and Ian, twins from some town in the North. Their accents changed quite often but they always had a northern twang. Secretly, I did actually want them to fuck me, but I worried that they were too sweet and would be disgusted by me if I broached the subject. We used to just talk about what our favourite shows were and whether we’d ever go somewhere else, like London or New York even. Those were good times.

At the End of the Day

A blue lion skulks across the playground. Parents mindless with anxiety scoop children up into their arms. A distant sniper rifle rattles off a shot. The principal goes down like a sack of shit. The children whoop and cheer. The parents lay their weary bodies down to rest, bundles of children bursting from their arms like sweets from a piñata.

Glub-ball Welcomes Matrix

Glub-ball is an orange and green sphere that wears spandex and flies. Flies in the face of its contemporaries. Flies in the face of the status quo. Glub-ball is soft like brain goo, and so cannot land for fear of disintegrating upon impact. That is why Glub-ball welcomes the machines into its mind and becomes a digital mosaic spread along streets like car headlights in a long exposure shot at night.

Just Do It!

Just do it,” Nike says, as terse as ever.

I chuckle as I twist the handle once more, causing the vice to crack her skull case in two. The pressure shoots a jet stream of goopy shit towards the sky. The crowd cheers.

I address the baying people, high on my own significant role in the uprising, “Let no man put asunder what we have done here today. For we are the new pan-” I am interrupted by the sound of a zip being undone loudly, I turn to have a look at the source of the sound.

Nike’s giant breasts deflate as several hundred Indonesian children pile out, all of them with soccer ball sized bellies and no shoes. Once they are gone it surprises me just how masculine Nike looks without her huge rack. Shoulders like two massive basketballs on a steel frame. On the steroids again no doubt.