#reality rumpus

[canonaspecswag]

Single Submission Preliminaries: Reality Rumpus

Jaiden Animations from Real Life who is aroace as confirmed by herself!

vs

You from Real Life

[therumpus]

Mini Interview with Jami Attenberg

By Denise S. Robbins

Jami Attenberg’s A Reason to See You Again (Ecco Press, 2024) is funny and quick-moving with a strong emotional core that explores what it really means to be family, through thick and thin. The novel revolves around the complicated family dynamics of a mother and her two daughters as they grow up and live through the cultural and technological changes throughout the 20th century, moving deftly between the thoughts of the characters in surprising ways. It’s wide-ranging, delving into various women’s relationships with work—or the absence of it. 

When she’s not writing books, she manages the highly popular Substack newsletter Craft Talk and its yearly challenge, “one thousand words of summer,” where she motivates thousands of subscribers to write a thousand words a day for ten days straight. 

We spoke over Zoom about her writing process and how this latest book fits in with her life’s work.

***

The Rumpus: A Reason to See You Again is your tenth published book. That’s a lot of books! Is there something you're trying to accomplish that you haven't in your earlier works?

Jami Attenberg: I wanted the book to cover more time. My last few novels were much more compact. Then when I wrote my memoir, I enjoyed how it spanned so many years and so many cities. It gave the story the chance to breathe. So, I wanted to apply that to the novel. I was also interested in having family members be separate from each other as opposed to being intimate and involved in each other’s lives. They were more spread out and spaced out. It’s also possible this desire to span more time and space came as a response to that particular claustrophobic feeling I had in the pandemic.

Rumpus: What seeded the idea behind this novel? 

Attenberg: I actually wrote about this in my newsletter [Craft Talk]. During the pandemic, I was looking at a lot of vintage clothes on Etsy and kept seeing these white puffy shirts. I started thinking about a woman wearing it and being somebody's cool aunt. Generally, characters show me the way into a book. And so, the cool aunt, Shelly Cohen, was the first character for me. I pictured her at a kitchen counter in the suburbs talking to her family, with all of them leading different lives, interested in each other but also always a little annoyed with each other.

Rumpus: Does that dynamic have any resemblance to reality? How much of yourself is in this book and these characters and their relationships?

Attenberg: None of these characters are like anybody that I know, really. But they’re adjacent to people I know. They feel like they live in a neighborhood I’ve lived in before. Or maybe they’re a third cousin. Someone you met once and feels familiar, even if you can’t say exactly who they are. 

Rumpus: How do you find the central core of a story with multiple main characters? What are they all hovering around? 

Attenberg: The way time moves forward in this book is the core, and how the characters are impacted by time. Time is both the structure and the thrust. For example, the way they communicate at the beginning of the book has changed by the end of it, often expressed in terms of technological advancements. And those kinds of changes are ones that can only emerge specifically over the passage of years or decades of time.

Rumpus: So, technology changes relationships in this book. But you could say it just provides your main characters with new ways of ignoring each other. 

Attenberg: There’s one scene near the end of the book where two characters are driving in a car and a third one calls them on a cellphone. And they really don’t want to talk to this person, but there’s no way of ultimately avoiding it: we live in an era where you can track people’s locations all the time. It’s vastly different than earlier in the book, when it’s Nancy’s twenty-first birthday and she desperately wants to talk to her family, and she has to leave her house, walk down to the corner payphone, put money in it to make a long-distance call, and hope that somebody's there and picks up at this specific moment in time. In a way that phone call is so much more meaningful. But their communication still has meaning at the end of the book, when they finally do break through to each other. 

Rumpus: A lot of important life events in this story aren’t actually in the book but are referenced offscreen or obliquely. How did you decide what to put in the story versus what to reference offscreen?

Attenberg: These people are not confrontational until it’s too late. They’re trying to figure out how to exist with a problem without actually dealing with it. So, these things feel far away to the reader because they feel far away to the characters. They don’t like dealing with things head on. But there are still feelings that are very much present. 

These things trigger other issues down the line, though. If you don’t deal with something in the moment, eventually it’s still going to show up. One of my characters doesn’t tell another character something very important, and when the other finds out, she is furious with her. It impacts their relationship forever. By choosing to avoid conflict, she created another conflict in the process. And a lie by omission is still a lie, and that’s certainly a plot point. 

Rumpus: I also wanted to highlight one particular line: “He thought it would be easier to explain themselves to the world if they lived in the same place, when actually they only had to explain themselves to themselves and no one else.” It feels like the heart of this story.

Attenberg: I wouldn’t say that line is the heart of the book, but it’s a touchstone line, one I hope people highlight on their Kindles, ha. The characters in this novel grew up during a certain time and place where they felt like there was a path for them with specific milestones they had to achieve to please the world in a certain kind of way. I think most people understand now that we don’t have to stay on that conventional path, that we don’t have to abide by anyone else’s rules. I think the characters in the book are happiest when they figure that out. Even if it takes a long time. 

Rumpus: On top of writing novels, you also run Craft Talk and the yearly “one thousand words of summer” challenge, with daily letters of encouragement from various authors. Does this community enliven your own novel writing? 

Attenberg: It keeps me on track. And every year there’s a letter from one of the contributing writers that hits the right chord and comes at the right time. That’s the beauty of these letters of writing advice. You never know when you’re going to need it. This year, that letter came from Jennine Capó Crucet. It was about writing from a place where you know you can throw it all away. So that’s what I did. I gave myself permission to just write something I could throw away. Then I loved everything I wrote, and now I’ve written thirty thousand words this summer, the new beginning of the book, and it's great. I definitely feel the accountability. Every year. We're doing it together. It's equalizing.

Rumpus: Even somebody who's written ten books needs that accountability sometimes.

Attenberg: People need it, and it works. It really works. But also, you don't need it. We can write all the time on our own. But during one thousand words of summer, it feels like a friend is there with me. 

Rumpus: So, you’re working on another novel now. How many more novels do you have inside you?

Attenberg: I’m not planning to stop writing. Will my next novels get published? Who knows. Does it matter? Probably not. How many books do I have in me? A million. I’m in my fifties now. I’ve slowed down a bit but know more of what I want and can look back at what I’ve done. And I don’t have to prove anything to anyone. 

[jellicle-human-hybrid-au]

A collection of modern Jellicle Ball taglines:

Paris 1899: The Dawn of a New Millennium

Brandenburg 1904: Silent Night, Furry Night

London 1910: Mollies and Toms and Great Rumpus Cats

San Moritz 1914: The Ball must go on

Instanbul 1915: Paws Together

Guernsey 1918: Joyous Noelle

New Orleans 1922: Mardi Chaton

Chicago 1925: World Faire

Copenhagen 1926: Televisually Recorded for the first time

Munich 1932: Escape from Reality

London 1935: Baldwin’s Ball

Lichtenstein 1936: Frei Europa

London 1940: In Death There is Life

Chipping Norton 1941: Back to Nature

Loughborough 1944: the Forest and Burrow Ball

Aston Villa 1945: Like the Sunflower…

Birmingham 1946: Pour one out

Bonn 1947: Here and Now

Paris 1948: Tout Petit Monde

Miami 1949: Beach Kitmas

London 1950: Never Had it Better

Hamburg 1952: A Proper Kitmas Feast

Medina 1954: the Cosmopolitan Ball

Nice 1955: Citroen’s Nice! Jellicle Ball

Kenya 1959: The Safari Festival

Los Angeles 1964: White (Cat) Heat of Technology

Wolverhampton 1965: Black Cat Melee

Strasbourg/Metz 1966: William of Anglaise comes out to gloat

Sydney 1968: The Long Way Around

Isle of Wight 1969: Wildest Winter Ever

Zagreb 1974: Kitties in Yugoslavia

Cairo 1975: Back To Where It All Began

Baghdad 1976: Rugs and Milk

Tehran 1977: Royal Fancy Feast

Jerusalem 1978: Mewischewitz for all

Casablanca 1979: Gatita Gala!

1000 Lakes 1980: Warriors’ Cats

London 1983: Now Available for Home Video

Innsbruck/Vienna 1984: Alpine Fun

Hamburg 1986: Vorsprung durch Technik

Budapest 1987: Drawing back the Curtain

Brandenburg 1989: Alle Katschen werder bruden

Moscow 1991: Paws Together II

Copenhagen 1992: Europarty

London 1998: Out for All To See

Reyjavik 2000: Now and Forever a Jellicle Cat

Vancouver 2006: We’re All In This Together/Est tous dans Le Même Bateau

Courcheval 2007: Jellicle Boom

Bolzano 2009: Forza Gatita

Nottingham 2010: Always Another Mountain

São Paulo 2011: Summer Beach Ball

Ushuaia 2015: The Southernmost Ball

Salt Lake City 2016: We Won’t Hide

Zermatt 2019: Swiss Kiss Kits!

Buckinghamshire/Internet Global Simulcast 2020: Discreet and Safe

Juneau 2021: The Northernmost Ball

Leicester/Cambridge 2022: A Tail of Two Cities

La Thuile 2023: A Throne of Snow and Ice

Aosta Valley 2024: Bastet Rests on The Matterhorn

[pesterloglog]

Karkat Vantas, Jade Harley, Dave Strider

Act 5, page 2852

CCG RIGHT NOW opened memo on board FRUITY RUMPUS ASSHOLE FACTORY.

CCG: HEY FUTURE ME, WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THIS EXPLODED JADEBOT BUSINESS?

CCG: MUST BE SOMETHING REALLY MISSION CRITICAL, OR JADE WOULDN'T HAVE BOTHERED GETTING IN TOUCH WITH US, RIGHT?

CCG: SOMETHING IMPERATIVE TO OUR SURVIVAL NO DOUBT?

CCG: HEY DOUCHE BAG, ARE YOU THERE

??? gardenGnostic [?GG] AT ?:?? responded to memo.

?GG: oh jeez, why am i doing this

?GG: this is so stupid!

CCG: PIPE DOWN HARLEY, THIS PRACTICALLY DOESN'T EVEN CONCERN YOU AT THIS POINT

?GG: bluhhh youre so funny!!!!!

CCG: NOTHING TO SAY, FUTURE ME?

CCG: NOT EVEN A FEW PARTING WORDS OF SCORN FOR ME OR THE NARCOLEPTIC IDIOT?

CCG: IT'S BEEN A WHILE SINCE WE'VE SPARRED, HOW I'VE MISSED THE SWEET STING OF YOUR BARBS

?GG: are you enjoying yourself karkat?

CCG: HAHAHA YOU ARE SO DUMB YOU ACTUALLY THINK THIS IS A RUSE.

CCG: YOU'VE COME ALL THIS WAY AND YOU STILL DON'T GET THAT ALL THE SHIT WE'VE BEEN TELLING YOU ABOUT IS REAL.

CCG: WHY THE FUCK WOULD I BE PULLING A STUNT LIKE THIS, WHAT A WASTE OF TIME.

CCG: I REALLY AM TALKING TO FUTURE ME, HE'S JUST BEING AN EVASIVE TOOL.

?GG: well obviously i know some things youve said are true

?GG: its just hard to take everything at face value when youre always so nasty!

CCG: YOU KNOW, IT'S REALLY AMAZING HOW BEHIND THE TIMES YOU ARE.

CCG: IT'S ALMOST AS IF YOU'VE SLEPT THROUGH THIS WHOLE ADVENTURE

CCG: OH WAIT, THAT IS ESSENTIALLY TRUE.

CCG: IT WAS HILARIOUS WATCHING YOU GROW UP.

CCG: YOU THOUGHT YOU HAD ALL THE ANSWERS, FROLICKING ALL OVER YOUR ISLAND BEING INFURIATINGLY CHIPPER, BUILDING ROBO-BUNNIES LIKE A MORON AND ULTIMATELY RUINING EVERYTHING.

CCG: YOU WERE SO SURE YOUR DREAMS TOLD YOU EVERYTHING YOU NEEDED TO KNOW.

CCG: AND NOW LOOK AT YOU

CCG: YOU SUDDENLY UNDERSTAND JACK SHIT.

?GG: ok i understand that you are another group of players and you are in some sort of trouble

?GG: but maybe if you had been nice to me instead of terrorizing me all those years i would have believed you

?GG: and we could have worked together to solve your problems as well as ours

?GG: it just makes me sad to think thats probably impossible now because you are so angry and stubborn!

CCG: DON'T TELL ME WHAT'S IMPOSSIBLE BECAUSE I'M ANGRY AND STUBBORN.

CCG: I FUCKING KNOW WHAT THOSE ASSETS MAKE POSSIBLE.

CCG: THEY MADE YOU POSSIBLE, GOT IT???

?GG: uh huh

CCG: DO YOU EVEN HAVE ANY IDEA HOW LUCKY YOU ARE TO BE GRACED BY MY DIVINE FURY?

CCG: TO HAVE THE PRIVILEGE OF GETTING TO BE STUDIED AND MOCKED BY ME FOR YOUR WHOLE PATHETIC MISERABLE LIFE?

CCG: DO YOU REALIZE I'M YOUR GOD? YES, YOUR LITERAL GOD, THAT'S RIGHT.

?GG: sure karkat, whatever you say!

CCG: AND I HAVE TAKEN TIME OUT OF MY BUSY GODLY SCHEDULE TO SCRUTINIZE YOUR POINTLESS EXISTENCE.

CCG: OUT OF THE COUNTLESS TRILLIONS OF LIFE FORMS I BROUGHT INTO REALITY THROUGH ANGRY GRUBFUCK POWER ALONE, I HAVE SELECTED YOU FOR EXAMINATION AND HARASSMENT.

CCG: PERSONALLY I THINK THAT WARRANTS A LITTLE GRATITUDE, AND JUST MAYBE, A BIT OF DEFERENCE.

CCG: A CURTSY, PERHAPS?

CCG: BUT YEAH GO AHEAD AND KEEP BLOWING ME OFF LIKE THE FLAKEY LITTLE TWERP YOU ARE.

FUTURE carcinoGeneticist [FCG] 3 HOURS FROM NOW responded to memo.

FCG: HEY DON'T TALK TO HER LIKE THAT YOU UNCOUTH PIECE OF SHIT.

FCG: THIS IS REFLECTING POORLY ON BOTH OF US, IT'S GODDAMNED EMBARRASSING.

CCG: OH WOW, ANOTHER MIRACLE.

CCG: IT MUST BE PERIGEES EVE, BECAUSE GET A LOAD OF THIS HUGE BEHEMOTH LEAVING THAT JUST GOT DRAGGED IN.

CCG: JADE, OUR DUTY IS CLEAR. WE MUST DECK THIS TURD TO THE NINES.

FCG: OH MY GOD I CAN'T BELIEVE I ACTUALLY THOUGHT THAT WAS A CLEVER THING TO SAY. WHAT A DIPSHIT.

?GG: aaauugh what the hell!!!

FCG: JADE, I'M SORRY ABOUT PAST ME'S RETARDED BEHAVIOR.

FCG: I'M NOT GOING TO DRAG OUT A HUGE APOLOGY OR ANYTHING BECAUSE I ALREADY APOLOGIZED IN AN EARLIER CONVERSATION, OK. I'M JUST LETTING YOU KNOW.

CCG: GOD DAMMIT, ARE YOU SERIOUS?

CCG: I MEAN, AM I SERIOUS?????

CCG: WILL I BE SERIOUS ABOUT THIS SHIT. WILL I REALLY BACK DOWN LIKE A LIMP FRONDED STOOGE? PLEASE TELL ME YOU'RE JOKING.

FCG: PLEASE, JUST

FCG: SHUT UP

FCG: I CAN'T BELIEVE I EVER THOUGHT FUTURE ME WAS THE STUPID ONE

FCG: PAST ME IS THE DUMBEST BUCKET OF FESTERING DISCHARGE I EVER FELL ASS BACKWARDS INTO.

FCG: COME ON, YOU KNOW THIS TO BE TRUE. REMEMBER ALL THE PAST USSES WE USED TO TALK TO??

FCG: THEY WERE EVEN PASTER THAN YOU, AND THEREFORE DUMBER.

CCG: YEAH, I REMEMBER ALL THOSE DUMBSHIT PAST USSES, BUT THEY DON'T HOLD A FUCKING JACKASS CANDLE TO FUTURE USSES.

CCG: AND YOU'RE THE FUTUREST ME I EVER HAD THE CROTCH BLISTERING MISFORTUNE OF JAWING WITH, SO THE FUCKHEAD TROPHY GOES TO YOU.

CCG: I MEAN, MY GOD, WHY.

CCG: IS PROXIMITY TO THAT NASTY LOOKING SPACETIME RIP ON THE TIMELINE MESSING WITH YOUR HEAD?

CCG: IS THAT WHAT'S CAUSING YOU TO FEEL PITY FOR THIS IMBECILE?

FCG: LOOK, JADE'S NOT THAT BAD OK.

FCG: YOU JUST GOT TOO WORKED UP, AND YOU CAN'T SEE THAT.

FCG: AND NOW ALL THIS FROTHING PANDEMONIUM JUMPING OUT OF YOUR MOUTH IS JUST RIDICULOUS OVERCOMPENSATION FOR YOUR OWN SHORTCOMINGS AND MISTAKES, AND MASKING SOME FEELINGS YOU'RE NOT REALLY IN TOUCH WITH.

FCG: THIS IS ALL SO OBVIOUS, I'M FLUSHING LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER IN EMBARRASSMENT HAVING TO EXPLAIN IT TO YOU, AND EVEN WORSE, REMEMBERING HAVING IT EXPLAINED TO ME BY THE SMART ONE THREE HOURS AGO AND STILL ACTING LIKE A MOIST GLOBE EVEN AFTER BEING SO SOUNDLY SCHOOLFED.

CCG: I DON'T BELIEVE THIS. PLEASE TELL ME THIS IS A JOKE.

FCG: YOU SAID SO YOURSELF, WE DON'T JOKE AROUND. IT'S JUVENILE, REMEMBER.

CCG: I'M GOING TO VOMIT.

CCG: I'M MAKING A MENTAL NOTE TO SLAP MYSELF THREE HOURS FROM NOW, FOR BEING ENOUGH OF A SAP TO START DEVELOPING RED FEELINGS FOR A DUMB ANNOYING HUMAN, IF I'M READING BETWEEN THE LINES CORRECTLY.

FCG: I JUST SLAPPED MYSELF! I REMEMBERED MY LAME NOTE TO MYSELF FROM THREE HOURS AGO, AND THEN SLAPPED MYSELF SPECIFICALLY TO MOCK YOU.

FCG: IT STINGS TOO, YOU'LL FEEL IT IN A WHILE. AND THEN THE GHOST OF PAST ME WILL CRY.

FCG: PAST ME DOESN'T EVEN EXIST ANYMORE. HE'S A STUPID BAWLING WIGGLER PHANTOM. HE'S DEAD, NOT A REAL GUY ANYMORE, LIKE ME.

FCG: I'M THE REAL ONE. YOU'RE FAKE, A SHADOW OF A SAD MEMORY THAT PISSED ITS PANTS WHILE SCREAMING.

FCG: TIME TO DEAL WITH IT.

CCG banned FCG from responding to memo.

FCG unbanned himself from responding to memo.

FCG banned CCG from responding to memo.

CCG unbanned himself from responding to memo.

?GG: i cant take this anymore!!!!!!!!

?GG: i dont even know what im reading here but its preposterous and ive had it!

?GG: i am just so angry, i cant believe i let you push me around all those years

?GG: you are completely out of your mind, i was too nice by just blocking you and typing frowny faces and stuff

?GG: i should have let you HAVE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FCG: YES!!!!!

FCG: LET THIS FUCKER KNOW THE SCORE JADE. THIS IS HOW WE ROLL.

?GG: SHUT UP!!!!!!!

?GG: future karkat, if you really are future karkat......

?GG: where do you get off thinking you can just suddenly act like were pals because you said you apologized????

?GG: if you want to apologize then great i am all ears! but just mentioning it off hand and then yelling at yourself the same way you yell at me all the time as if i need a knight to come save me from yourself is so lame, not to mention completely insane

?GG: i cant even believe the things im typing here! this is so stupid, talking to two of you at once is the worst thing imaginable

?GG: you treat everyone horribly, even yourself, i cant even fathom how awful it is to be you

?GG: past karkat, youre acting like a bigger jerk than he is and i think you know that! why dont you take his advice and grow up

?GG: as if theres even a real difference between you two. three hours is hardly any time at all, you are the same person YOU FUCKING IDIOTS!!!!!!!!!

CCG: OH SHIT

FCG: YES, THAT WAS GREAT. WE BOTH HAD IT COMING, ESPECIALLY HIM. GREAT WORK JADE.

?GG: stop it!!!!

?GG: ugh, i dont know whats worse, jerk karkat or goofy sycophant karkat

?GG: i cant stand it, whether youre trying to be nice or just being a crazy asshole, you are just so weird!!!

?GG: im through humoring you, i dont even care about this stupid exploded robot mission, whatever that was

FCG: OH RIGHT, ABOUT THAT

FCG: YEAH WE NEED TO TALK

FCG: I MEAN WE HAVE ALREADY FROM MY PERSPECTIVE

FCG: BUT YOU'RE GOING TO BE REALLY BUSY SOON, BECAUSE YOU'RE ABOUT TO ENTER YOUR SESSION

FCG: SO DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT UNTIL YOU DO, THEN JUST HIT ME UP, WE'LL TALK ABOUT IT

?GG: hahaha, FAT CHANCE!!!!

FCG: LOOK I KNOW THINGS ARE WEIRD BETWEEN US RIGHT NOW AND YOU HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO BE MAD.

FCG: ESPECIALLY AT THAT LOSER.

FCG: BUT THINGS WILL CHANGE, IN TIME YOU'LL SEE I'M NOT QUITE SO AWFUL, OK?

??? turntechGodhead [?TG] AT ?:?? responded to memo.

?TG: ahahahahah oh god

?TG: dude i cant believe you were just getting on our case about hitting on the troll girls

?TG: and then literally the very next memo you are slobbering all over jade

?TG: thats just perfect hahahaha

CCG banned ?TG: from responding to memo.

FCG rebanned ?TG: from responding to memo.

?GG: dave wait dont go!

?GG: youve got to save me from this insanity :(

FCG: OH I SEE, NOW YOU COULD USE A KNIGHT, HOW VERY INTERESTING, HMMM.

FCG: GOD I CAN'T WAIT FOR YOU TO BE FUTURE YOU, SLIGHTLY LESS FUTURE YOU IS SUCH A GOD DAMN PILL

?GG: i cant wait for future you to future kiss my ass!

CCG: YEAH! THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT.

?GG: i also cant wait for past you to past drop dead and go to hell, PAST TENSE!!!!!!!!

?GG: when are those things going to happen?? or will have already past/future happened?????

?GG: i want to put another reminder on my finger so i know when its time to throw a party!!!!

FCG: HAHAHAHA, YOU HEAR THAT YOU OBSOLETE PILE OF GARBAGE? JADE JUST FLIPPED YOU OFF WITH A COLORFUL FINGER.

CCG: MAN, SHE OBVIOUSLY HATES YOU MORE. SHE CALLED YOU A SYCOPHANT WHICH IS A HUNDRED TIMES MORE DESCRIPTIVELY WORSE THAN JUST BEING A RUN OF THE MILL SCUMBAG LIKE ME.

CCG: SHE IS TOTALLY ON TO YOU AND HOW DESPICABLE YOU'VE BECOME, CAN YOU BLAME HER FOR HATING US?

FCG: NO, I CAN BLAME YOU, YOU'RE THE ONE WITH NO MANNERS WHO'S ALL TWISTED UP INSIDE.

FCG: HOW'S THIS FOR A PACT, EVERYBODY.

FCG: PAST KARKAT ONLY TALKS TO PAST JADE FROM NOW ON, AND THE TWO OF THEM CAN BICKER LIKE SHITTY LITTLE CHILDREN FOR HOURS/YEARS RESPECTIVELY.

FCG: AND FUTURE KARKAT ONLY TALKS TO FUTURE JADE, AN ARRANGEMENT WHEREIN ONLY INTELLIGENT DISCOURSE TAKES PLACE BETWEEN TWO CIVILIZED, MATURE, GROWN ASSED ADULTS.

FCG: IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK??????

?GG: jesus will you just ban me already????

?GG: my head hurts so bad now i think im going to cry

FCG: MAYBE YOU SHOULD JUST BAN HER ALREADY AND END THIS TORMENT SINCE YOU DRAGGED HER INTO THIS.

CCG: FUCK THAT YOU BAN HER. YOU'RE THE ONE WHO SEEMS TO "CARE".

FCG: WILL YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH, MAN THE FUCK UP, AND BAN THIS POOR GIRL ALREADY?

?GG: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa XO

?GG: i will just ban myself!!!!

?GG: *JADE HARLEY BANNED HERSELF FROM RESPONDING TO THE GRUMPY SHIT HEAD MISERY ZONE, AND IS NEVER COMING BACK*

?GG: pchoooooooooooooooo

[?GG] ceased responding to memo.

FCG: OK, THERE. SHE'S GONE.

FCG: MAYBE NOW YOU GET IT.

FCG: HOW HIDEOUS EVERYONE THINKS YOU ARE, MAYBE YOU'LL FINALLY STOP FUCKING EVERYTHING UP.

CCG: HUH

FCG: WHAT

CCG: I THINK

CCG: I WAS PROBABLY WRONG ABOUT JADE

CG: SHE'S A LITTLE LESS LAME THAN I THOUGHT

FCG: SHHHHSHHSHSHSHSH

FCG: SHE CAN STILL READ THIS YOU STUPID FUCK

FCG: NOW'S NOT THE TIME TO OPEN YOUR VEINS AND WRITE POEMS ABOUT YOUR FEELINGS

CCG: FUCK YOU, I'M JUST VOICING A HARMLESS OBSERVATION OK

CCG: IT'S NOT MY BUSINESS IF SOME LUNK HEAD IN THE FUTURE GETS CARRIED AWAY WITH WHATEVER LITTLE THOUGHTS I MAY OR MAY NOT NOW BE THINKING

FCG: I...

FCG: BUT

FCG: HOW COULD THAT EVEN BE A REAL THING I TYPED THREE HOURS AGO, HOW COULD I BE THIS STUPID.

FCG: WE ARE JUST THE DUMBEST FUCKERS WHO EVER LIVED AREN'T WE.

CCG: SPEAK FOR YOURSELF.

FCG: I DON'T EVEN HAVE THE ENERGY TO BAN US.

FCG: I'M JUST LEAVING.

[FCG] ceased responding to memo.

CCG: YEAH

[CCG] ceased responding to memo.

[ajaygulatinz]

RC and EPA Approved For 7 Lots

Attention Developers and Discerning Investors! Prepare to seize an extraordinary investment opportunity that awaits you! Look no further as we unveil a vast 1199m2 section nestled in the heart of Papakura, offering an unparalleled chance to transform your development aspirations into a tangible reality.

Key Property Features:

Location: Papakura

Land Size: 1199m2 square meters

Zoning: Residential-Mixed Housing Urban Zone

Resource Consent: Approved for 7 Residential Lots

Configuration: 4 terraced, 2 semi-attached & 1 detached house

The groundwork has already been completed, giving you a significant head start on your project. Save valuable time and resources by leveraging the existing approval.

The existing house, suitable for renovation, boasts 3 spacious bedrooms, with the master bedroom having its own access to the outdoor patio. The kitchen includes a generous walk-in pantry, and additional features encompass a separate laundry, main bathroom, a separate room for a bathtub, and a lounge with a cast iron wood burner. A bonus study/library and a separate Granny Flat/Rumpus Room add versatility for visitors or a home business. Whether you choose to restore it for rental income or demolish it for immediate project commencement is entirely up to you.

The location is unbeatable, with a short drive to Papakura Town Centre, proximity to motorways, shops, amenities, schools, and preschool centres, ensuring convenience for future residents and enhancing the value of your investment.

Don't let this outstanding opportunity slip away. Take action now and secure your stake in the flourishing Papakura real estate market. Invest in your future. Invest in Papakura. Contact us without delay.

— 9 Viola Place, Papakura

For Sale by Negotiation

More Info : https://www.barfoot.co.nz/860363

Contact :

Ajay Gulati - Barfoot & Thompson - ⁨021 236 2008⁩

Munish Anand - 021 023 44880

#AjayGulati #RealEstate #BarfootandThompson #Manukau #ViolaPlace #Papakura #Gulati Barfoot & Thompson Manukau Ajay Gulati

[ctbooks]

Boyz to Men: The Rumpus Interviews Alex Kazemi

by Miah Jeffra

Alex Kazemi’s novel New Millennium Boyz (Permuted Press, 2023) is a divisive book. It may piss you off, may offend you, may have you nodding your head to its reality-TV reality, a hazily self-reflexive gesture of the early millennium’s particular brand of pop culture consciousness. Heavily dialogical and uniquely sparse in reflective voice—despite being written from teen Brad Sela’s perspective—the novel reads more like a screenplay stitched together by saturated scenes of suburban banality and angst, largely concerning Brad’s troubling friendship with goth-kid Lusif and emo-stoner Shane. There is so much violent, racist and sexist overtone to the three teens’ interactions that it feels like we’re watching a mashup of The Doom Generation and Beavis and Butthead. Think Brett Easton Ellis. Think Larry Clark. Think deeply unsettling, especially as readers influenced and informed by the last two decades forced to look back. 

Born, raised and currently living in the Vancouver area, Kazemi began working in the fashion and music industry at 15, and emerged as a pop culture journalist, working for Dazed, King Kong and Prim, among others. His early experience inhabiting this—as Kazemi calls—“post-empire world” clearly influences the novel, flooded with sharp critiques and observations of Y2K music, from Blink 182 to Fiona Apple, backdropped by the popularization of the internet and reality-TV. 

New Millennium Boyz serves to indict our recent past as a caustic soup of creative expression, cynicism and techno-reality, a Baudrillard-ian horror film where the characters won’t stop watching themselves, and through gritted teeth simultaneously implore the reader, have we changed all that much? Using our current techno-reality, Kazemi and I chatted over Zoom to explore this question.

* * *

The Rumpus: We obviously see your knowledge of music and culture and fashion all over this book. Why did you decide that you needed to write this story as a novel?

Alex Kazemi: When I was 18, I started writing notes. I uploaded the first 50 pages onto Tumblr and a lot of teenagers really resonated with it. I got a lot of messages and, as viral as things could go in 2013, it did. It wasn't initially concerning style or aesthetic or anything. I was only taking from what I knew back then. As I grew up, however, the meanings of those initial pages changed. I lost a certain innocence.

As the world became crazier, as my 20s became more turbulent, there were more intense emotions that I wanted to explore. I had to grow, practice, change, and evolve. This book is so different from the original Tumblr manuscript, but the reason it was a novel was because that's just what felt right.

Rumpus: In several moments in the novel, the dialogue runs together so much that you don't even know who's speaking. The characters blur. Why?

Kazemi: I remember working with my editor on the locker room scene where the boys are talking about girls and porn. I was like, “I have to include speaker indicators.” They're like, “No, because all the boys are just the same in the scene. They're all amorphous, facets of the extreme teen-boy experience.” I think that in that era—maybe every era—there were so many mixed messages of what it means to be a boy, what masculinity meant, the violence of it, that’s not explored much in art.

Rumpus: Why do you have it set right at the dawn of the millennium?

Kazemi: I was perplexed and fascinated by our culture becoming so obsessed with Y2K. I wanted to unmask the corporate, buzz-feed-type nostalgia for that era and create more of a gritty, voyeuristic version of teen-hood. What if we take the voice from American Pie and explore the darker aspects of that world? I wanted to show that these themes that we're dealing with currently in our culture, of hyper reality and the Internet age, emerged back then. 

Rumpus: You're very interested in the consumerism that is bound in this hypermediated society. Do you feel like we were worse off 20 years ago than we are now?

Kazemi: I often think about this. We look at Gen Z, who are so openly queer, openly celebrating their POC-ness, anything that makes them different. And then we rewind twenty years ago and it looks like we are now better off. How have we been able to make that progress if we didn't have social media, if technology didn't accelerate in the way it did? I don't know the answer to that. But it's often something I think about. I think maybe in certain ways we were more intelligent about our moderation around screen time. You open a magazine, and eventually it ends, right? An Instagram feed doesn't end. A TikTok feed doesn't end.

Rumpus: Do you feel like that is one of the functions of all the sexism, the racism, the homophobia of the characters in your novel, for us to look back twenty years ago and see how far we've come?

Kazemi: I particularly made the characters like that to show what the culture amongst white men was encouraging at the time. It’s definitely not a celebration of it, but more so holding up a mirror to how those issues were presented in that time period. Twenty years later we're supposed to look at it and be like, “Holy fuck, this is how people talked. This was normal. Why was it like that? And why did we allow it to be like that? And why did we associate it with creative freedom?” 

Rumpus: So, you’re suggesting media of the time was packaged in this effort to celebrate creative freedom, when in fact, it seemed to indulge in aspects of our own culture’s hatred?

Kazemi: If kids are listening to Adam Carolla on Love Line and he says something objectionable, they don’t have the clear ability to critique it like we do now. They were inside of it. They were participating in the culture. For us to say that our media doesn't encourage certain impulses in us is just absurd. Of course, we can't control who is consuming the media. I'm not saying violent movies creates school shooters, but I'm saying there are unwell people who are not equipped to handle this content, and it can unfold into madness.

Rumpus: One of those examples would be the protagonist, Brad? 

Kazemi: Brad is in this masochistic male friendship [with Lusif], yet he also fears losing him. A level of trauma bonding.

Rumpus: Do you think that is born of some desperate need for young males to share intimacy, that they would let someone like Lusif abuse them, because at least they were experiencing an intimacy with another male, without reproach, that isn't fostered in our culture?

Kazemi: Absolutely. I think that these young men who, for instance, pledge a frat are really looking for a shared intimacy amongst other men. They're desperate for communication and physical intimacy that feels safe for them and their sexuality. Brad was so intimacy-starved that he would let someone bad like Lusif into his life. I think boys in our culture are in that state of starvation a lot, and that's pretty scary to think of what they're capable of doing in that malnourished state. I was trying to display the way teenage boys have to manage being a good boy to their family while behind the scenes they have all these unresolved feelings around sex and violence and drugs. They're this weird, netherworld creature that's not a boy, not a man, managing this middle-space. They are processing a lot of unresolved sexual energy. It's something that is provoking a very extreme reaction in readers, which is so weird to me because I never predicted that. I definitely have a better understanding of the prose that most people like, and I don't think I went the traditional route.

Rumpus: You averted the traditional route by being so heavily dialogical without much access to Brad’s interiority?

Kazemi: That's interesting because a lot of people say that's a lot of telling. But it's fucked up because in my head, I was like, “Oh, I'm showing their reality. I'm almost creating reality TV, setting it up with minimum imagery, and then getting to watch the conversation.”

Rumpus: Maybe these critics are summoning classic tropes of storytelling when reviewing this book. I think what you said resonates with me. The book mirrors the reality television narrative. Minimal situation and lots of dialogue and reaction.

Kazemi: There are these moments of suburban romanticism in our culture, of hanging out in the 7-Eleven parking lot, smoking—American rites of passages that would resonate with the typical Total Request Live watcher. I definitely did try to create those tiny moments of suburban claustrophobia. The book resembles a three- to four-hour nineties teen movie. It's like an extended cut. I'm shocked that I did it and also that I was so insistent with my publisher to stay true to my vision. Obviously, it's not something I want to do again, this type of style, but it is a bit jarring.

Rumpus: You say you're probably not going to write a novel like this again. Do you have another project on the horizon?

Kazemi: I definitely have ideas, but much like the Madonna school, I'm all about reinvention, thinking of different ways to tell stories. I want to stay in the novel medium and I want to write more books, but I have to figure out what comfort zone I’m going to push against next. ________________________________________ Miah Jeffra is author of four books, most recently The Violence Almanac and the novel American Gospel. Miah is co-founder of Whiting Award-winning queer and trans literary collaborative, Foglifter Press, and teaches creative writing and decolonial studies at Sonoma State University.

[sawtellaustralia]

DREAM LOCATION – MAKE THIS ONE YOURS

[aderyncarn]

A little closer and this would have happened.

Although canonically, this happened in another reality.

[agentqv]

“We Will Speak Again After”

A Binx/Andhera Fanfic

Part I: Moth and Flame

The Mortal Realm wasn’t everything Andhera had expected. It was far less chaotic than Lord Airavis had wrote to be. It smelled weird, but apparently it’s a good smell? When he woke up that morning, it had not occurred to the Unseelie Prince that Binx Choppley would want to begin their journey so swiftly… But he was a sworn knight of the Court of Craft.

And they could never say no to their Dear Binx.

So the two spent their first hours in a forest, wandering in the direction of civilization. Their aimless path was picturesque, autumnal leaves drifting in the air. Countless bundles of leaves were sorted together and laid unguarded.

It was incredibly easy for Binx to push a confused Andhera into a pile of orange leaves. Their dark brooding complexion became messier in the rumpus. Binx couldn’t help but giggle at the disheveled look upon his dark face mixed with autumnal reds and oranges. The laughter was hard enough that she hadn’t clocked the rake left beside the pile and tripped forward, onto Andhera (who lost his breath in the surprise).

As Binx reoriented to this sudden reality, she tried pushing up, but discovered their hands on her knight’s chest and felt a strain in his breathing from her contact pressure, she froze. The two found themselves to be close in a way some would consider uncomfortable, her violet eyes looked into his scarlet ones, a redness painted her cheeks.

A thin rosy mist formed above them, lightly raining them with dew.

“Is this okay?” Binx whispered with concern. They had their first kiss before departing the Fey Realm. The two now found themselves in the middle of a saccharine high, excitedly exploring this new dynamic (so boundary setting was important).

“More than okay.” Andhera whispered with a touch starved hand reaching for her face. Binx enjoyed the feel of him, as he cupped her sun-kissed cheek.

The Prince initiated the kiss, gently pressing his mouth into hers. Binx grinned into it, hands grasping the nape of their neck, tendrils of dark scorched hair caught between her fingers.  To Andhera they tasted like a living black apple, feelings and memories swept through his mind, clouding the senses.

The kiss ended in them sharing the sweetest of looks, Andhera felt like saying something suave, but found his brain stammering. They had gone through so much in the past weeks, now they were confronted with boundless freedom. It was overwhelming and perfect. A storybook ending.

A cool breeze punctured the air, lifting leaves and tousling Binx’s chestnut hair, wings jittering. The love in their knight’s eyes was disrupted as he watched the leaves flowing. As concern overtook his gaze, Binx sat up.

“Andhera, is something wrong?” Their question plucked Andhera from his introspection. His gaze returned to her. Nothing was wrong when it was just the two of them.

Nothing can happen to you

Moments later they were brushing off leaves and continuing their trek. Despite their best efforts,  the romantic atmosphere had drifted away with the wind.

Over the course of hours, the landscape rolled away and a course of action was being decided upon.

They would to reconnect with Binx’s warlock Scratch and meet with the true Lady Gwyndolin Thistle-hop. From there an actual plan to rebuild the true Court of Craft could be… well, crafted.

That was what Binx said when they reached a break in the forest in the form of a country road. Sparse buildings and farms rose up in the landscape. The Court of Craft’s leader seemingly froze, and Andhera detected an instance of her soul fleeing their body.

Across the road from them, something had seemingly materialized out of nowhere, a thing of horrors. It was a five foot tall yeth hound, a dog with the face of an uncomfortable old man, waiting for them. Tapping his claws humorlessly into the dirt.

“How did-” Binx whispered, “We didn’t even know we were going to end up here.” A shrill terror concerned their voice. “I thought you left him at the Bloom!”

“My Dear Binx,” Andhera smiled, “As a boy, I tried to leave Grandpa Dog behind so many times, Advisor said this behavior was the truest mark of loyalty. Or maybe it was scorn.” Andhera crossed the road to embrace the indifferent dog. Stroking the weird folds of its throaty neck “My nightmares wouldn’t be complete without you, old boy!” It drooled uncomfortably onto his violet robes, watching Binx the entire time with an uncompromising gaze. The Weaver of Fate wanted to cry.

Night eventually came, and they made camp around an old firepit. Andhera had somehow scraped together a fire, excited by the prospect of camping. Binx could have reminded him that they could stay inside her liminal space, it was much safer (and glamping was very nice). But by that time night had encompassed the clearing, her resolve waned when Andhera saw the stars of the mortal realm, eyes wide like scarlet saucers.

A gentle smile road up her face watching Andhera experience this world (or really most normal things). To them it was all childlike and new. And like with their dalliance on the leaf pile, Binx felt a possessiveness that they hadn’t felt in a long time. It was like a sense of belonging. She promised there was so much for them to experience together… but knowing Andhera would experience much of what Binx had already seen brought a fresh new excitement to it all.

Binx wondered if perhaps this was why the mortals of this plane watched reaction videos.

It was an excitement that even Grandpa Dog couldn’t ruin. And he certainly tried, sitting across from the two, staring up at Binx with a cold and diffused stare. Every once in a while his gaze shifted to stare at a hooting owl draped in moonlight.

“Oh don’t mind him, it means he likes you, probably.” Andhera droned, sitting with her towards the fire, “Do you think Scratch and the good Lady Thistle-hop will like him?” As soon as Binx looked at Andhera to answer that question, they turned back and recognized that the yeth hound was closer. His ragged breathing grew more strained and uncomfortable.

The topic found itself changing. Andhera was concerned for Delloso de la Rue and Major Hob (or just Hob now) who had remained at the Bloom while they left. He wondered if they should have been invited on this excursion. Binx felt that concern, but recognized it was unnecessary.

“I think they need space, like we do. Time to explore. Figure out where they stand.” Binx felt a redness creep up their cheek at the simple thought of discussing their own relationship. They currently lacked a formal labeling, and while it was still early, Binx felt that odd tinge of uncertainty and decidedly stopped looking inwards.

“Rue and Hob need time to uh be private, you know?” Binx uttered, awkwardly. Their knight shrugged in firelight.

“Right. Rue may need to provide some uh… sexy healing, for the condition they left the Major’s heart in before we attended that show.” Binx paused at their suggestion, turning. Her lips pulled in tightly and cracked into laughter. Andhera joined her in this endeavor.

With the talk of healing, they both recalled the secret fliers the Lords of the Wing had been handing out earlier that day. The “party” at their estate (it was an orgy) was being privately touted as the “True Final Event of the Bloom” and Binx reached a potential conclusion.

“Perhaps Rue and the Major are attending the orgy!” They suggested.

“Wouldn’t that be a story!” Andhera snickered. “I bet Advisor is also in attendance.”

“Is he normally like that?”

“WHO KNOWS!?” The Unseelie Prince grew animated. “That man has his own thing going on. I don’t even know his name!” The laughter continued for another couple seconds, evaporating heartily in the air. An odd melancholic sadness took to Andhera speaking of his mentor. Binx found their hand softly touching his.

“You know… it’s okay if you miss him or the Unseelie.”

“I don’t.” Andhera replied abruptly, unconsciously pulling his hand away.

“But if you did… I’d understand.” She pivoted, gently grasping the Prince’s hand once more. Her finger followed the bends and creases of his clammy palm. “This isn’t me saying you need to or even should ever forgive them. What your sister made them do to you was unforgiveable.” Binx noticed how Andhera watched the fire, sparks flickered in their eyes, how his hand tensed at the mention of Suntar. “But I’m sure it wasn’t all bad. You said you had sparks of happiness, like from your advisor and… whoever else was there.” The yeth hound squinted hard at Binx’s snub.

“Binx, where are you going with this?” Andhera asked, finding their patience waning. Binx took a measured breath and finished her piece.

“Look, I am grateful that you joined my court and came with me. I am. And I’m grateful for this.” Binx squeezed Andhera’s hand. “I’ve been alone for so long.” She released it, turning away, pulling their knees up into chest and facing the fire. “I guess I’m just wondering… what happens when it’s time for you to return to the Unseelie? What happens when you’re needed at home?”

Andhera turned, watching Binx’s body language,  he saw how difficult it was for them to maintain eye contact with him in this talk… like she had been preparing for rejection at every step of their relationship.

She still thought he’d leave her like everyone else did. To someone who spent so long with nothing, everything became temporary.

“Binx, I am needed at home.” He took her hand into his. “This, is my home. You are my home.”

As Andhera swore, a coursing of arcane magic flowed between them, from their hands apparated a softly glowing brown string linking them. A redness crept up Binx’s face as she recognized the magic.

“I wasn’t born into the Court of Craft… but I chose it, I chose you.” Andhera reaffirmed. “And I want to be here, through thick and thin.” He saw that flickering glimmer in their eyes, that uncertainty. So Andhera spoke as plainly as he could.

“Is it really that hard to believe I want to be with you?”

And Binx heaved.

Despite everything, that insecurity seemed nearly impossible to dispel from her heart.

More could have been said, but the fire waned from a cold breeze passing through. Binx shivered, their wings shook. Without question, Andhera pressed closer, hands pushing up and down her upper arms. He created friction to warm them both as the fire regained its health. Binx accepted it, laying into his chest, tucked under the crook of his slim neck.

The prince swore himself to her, he was hers. So why couldn’t Binx accept it and be happy?

The earlier conversation’s momentum had been vanquished. So Binx presented two patchwork sleeping bags, and they laid side by side near the fire. While the prince was less covered (didn’t need the warmth as much) Binx became a caterpillar. Brown tousled hair peeked out at Andhera in the firelight. They laid in silence, looking at each other.

Binx’s violet eyes watched his, her face was painted in a soft orange glow.

“It was hard to believe.” Binx whispered earnestly, “Thanks for reassuring me.” Andhera felt their promise tingle in the acknowledgement.

“Always.” He smiled.

                                                      Author’s Notes: 

Hey everyone, with your kind words I’ve decided to start posting my story. So I hope you like this, I just want to take a moment to acknowledge Binx’s writing.

I’ve always viewed Binx Choppley as someone struggling with survivor’s guilt and imposter syndrome, and so I found it interesting in the show that even though Andhera committed and swore themself to Binx, she seemed very insecure in their relationship, telling Hob “There’s no reason for him to like me” despite all the grand (some would say romantic) gestures Andhera made for Binx. 

So despite the spike removal and the kiss, I felt obligated to pay Binx’s anxiety forward to its natural conclusion, they believe Andhera will inevitably leave them one day for something more important (his people). And I really connected with the concept of Binx almost reflexively preparing for this inevitability because of deep seated personal trauma. I don’t know if Omar and Surena would have pursued such a shift, but it felt right for what I was writing. 

It also felt important to use as a vehicle to acknowledge the “Elephant in the room” with Andhera pursuing a dual citizenship to both of their courts and how Binx may figure into that future, but you’ll hear more about that in Part II.

[destieltaggedfic]

Djinn Realities - Part 1

So I guess a spoiler alert for all these stories really, because some of them aren’t tagged Djinn fic and you don’t find out until well into the story.  But if you’re looking for that in fic this is the list for you.

The Story of You and Me - the_diggler   Ao3

Set S8.  Dean wakes up with 2 years of his life missing.  He, Cas and Sam have rebuilt Bobby’s house and are living there and he’s been with Cas the entire time.  He got an injury that means he has memory lapses and so he keeps a journal with the important events in his life since the injury.

Word Count: 55k                              Graphic Sexual Acts

For A Dream's Sake – EllenOfOz   Ao3

Set S13.  To get the fruit from the tree of life, Cas has to make a deal with Djinni queen, she feeds on him for 24 hours, will he be able to stop himself from getting dragged into his dream world?

Word Count: 29k                              Graphic Sexual Acts

Trip Down Memory Lane - Chipper99   Ao3

Nonspecific timeframe. Dean isn’t waking up after being taken by a Djinn, Sam and Cas have to go through his memories to find the happy life he is trapped in in order to wake him up.  Cas is completely surprised at the life Dean apparently wants.

Word Count: 8k                                 No Sex

Rumpus Rooms and Scooby Doo – Speary   Ao3

Set S13.  While Cas is away in Syria, Dean builds the Dean Cave. When he’s back and they are talking about his possible marriage, Cas admits that the Djinn Queen may have appeared in a familiar form to try and get him to consent.

Word Count: 3k                                 No Sex

Subconscious Perdition – saltyfirefly   Ao3

Set S14.  Sam and Cas need to wander through Dean’s memories when he is trapped by a djinn, along the way Sam finds out things about Dean that he never knew.

Word Count:      7k                           Non-Graphic Sex

[canonaspecswag]

Preliminaries have begun!

While I seed a proper bracket and figure out what to do with Jonathan Sims and his 40 submissions, enjoy the single-submission preliminaries!

There were 121 characters with a single submission, most won't make into a bracket, but there were a few I couldn't pass up.

Characters are chosen for the single-submission preliminaries based on potential for fun or silly match-ups, particularly compelling arguments from submitters, and (in the interest of full transparency), a little nepotism on my part.

Maya vs Maya: Maya Borderlands vs Maya Antiques Shop

Reanimation Rumble: Herbert West vs Jesus Christ

Marvel Melee: Yelena Belova vs Nadia van Dyne

Reality Rumpus: Jaiden Animations vs You

Tumblr Tussle: pumakitty vs defianceoftheendless vs teeth-collector64

[therumpus]

The Mini Interview with Porochista Khakpour

By Yasmin Roshanian

I first encountered the works of Porochista Khakpour in 2014. As an MFA candidate at Columbia, I was eager for Iranian-American voices in fiction. To read Khakpour is to carefully parse through works of fiction and nonfiction that unfurl family, identity, and Persian myth—I can remember devouring Khakpour’s second novel, The Last Illusion, feeling unburdened. She is a rare writer, and to see life and the Iranian-American experience through her astute and caring pages feels something akin to landing.

In Tehrangeles (Pantheon Books, 2024), Khakpour’s latest novel, the world she satirizes makes for a delightful romp. We meet the Milani’s, a filthy rich family living the (Iranian)-American dream. Al, the immigrant father, is a bombastic junk food tycoon. His wife, Homa, is reeling. As they raise their four daughters (Violet, Roxanna, Mina, and Haylee) in the terrain known as “Tehrangeles,” the splashy landscape of Los Angeles where Iranian-Americans reside (and thrive), the opportunity for their very own reality show slowly snaps the scaffolding of a home, unraveling everything inside.

It was a joy to speak with Khakpour over a Zoom call in May. We discussed the whirlwind of Tik Tok, identity erasure, and more. This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

***

The Rumpus: I want to unpack the absurdity of celebrity culture, and in particular, the terrain that has become influencer culture. Did you always want to write a novel about this world? What was appealing to you about exploring celebrity and social media?

Porochista Khakpour: I’ve always been very obsessed with pop culture. Anyone who follows my social media knows. Even if it's not about my writing, or my literary interests, I’m always commenting, or tuned into pop culture. I’m forty-six, and I think I’m pretty up on things that Gen Z knows about. That’s just always been my interest. Most of my books do have some pop cultural angle in them, but Tehrangeles is the most absorbing. I think I had to get to a place, and maybe it took my fifth book, where I wasn’t so concerned about sounding smart. I’ve already written the smart books; the deep and heartbreaking books. I don’t feel like I have to prove myself as much anymore. If I had done Tehrangeles as my fist book, I think I would have been too worried about it being called a beach read or being labeled as women’s fiction. I would have had all of these other insecurities. Tehrangeles allowed me to not only investigate the Iranian-Americans of that demographic, but it also let me get deep into this world of bubbly, frothy trash. I guess some people might call it guilty pleasures, but it sounds absurd to say that—it's such a big part of American culture.

The book is kind of a period piece, too. It takes place in the first half of 2020, and I had to dive deeply into the world of TikTok. I was already on TikTok for a while before that, and I’ve only started posting publicly there recently, but I've been lurking for ages. It’s an amazing place to go when you’re interested in pop culture and celebrity and all that, and it introduced me to the world of content creators and influencers. This aspect of contemporary pop culture allowed me to paint the characters in a deeper way. These girls are just children, really; they’re Gen Z, but they all have jobs that they take really seriously. They’re making money, even though they have money.

Rumpus: I appreciated the versatility on the page. The humor is electric and sharp, and the dialogue is so astute. At the same time, the novel is deeply poignant. You also include a section written entirely in Farsi, allowing us to further access the characters despite the boundaries of language. In terms of craft, what does it mean to use different threads to tell a story?

Khakpour: Iran is really important when I’ve been grappling with Iranian-American life. I haven’t been able to return to Iran since I was a young child. I was born there, and I lived there for several years, but I don’t ever really feel comfortable writing a work set in Iran. I only have limited knowledge of that. Obviously, I can imagine it, but it’s not enough for me. There are many writers who do that a lot better than me; who write very directly from that experience. Iran, in almost all my books, becomes a symbol of an impossibility. It’s always tied to yearning, and longing, and characters wanting to go back to a homeland that they’re separated from. I wanted there to be a real distance between Iran and Iranian-America. In the novel, there are moments where I have relatives and friends in Iran calling the family, and telling them that they’ve heard about certain events in the US, and their show, and I wanted the Iranians to be different from the family. I wanted there to be this really big cultural divide. That was important to me. 

I didn’t think that I would get away with the section written in Farsi, either, but my publishers didn’t touch that at all. In fact, we just had this funny situation where we have a wonderful, well-known actress who’s Iranian-American doing the audiobook. She only speaks some Persian, and she felt that her Persian wasn’t good enough to read that whole section out loud. So, as we speak, my mother is in a recording studio in LA, reading the mother’s (Homa) part that was all written in Farsi. My dad, too, helped me write that part, because I didn’t want it to sound like my Persian. I could have written it in my Persian, but I wanted it to sound like someone of a different generation writing a little section on Iran, and nature, and things like that. I had my dad do a lot of it, and now my mom is reading it. It’s kind of a weird and unique thing for an author of books. 

Rumpus: The last two books you published, Sick and Brown Album, were incredible works of nonfiction. How did it feel to revisit fiction? Was it muscle memory?

Khakpour: I love fiction. Fiction has always been my true love, and I would have never been a writer if it weren’t for fiction. It was writing nonfiction that felt a little bit like tourism. I was working on Tehrangeles the whole time through all of these books, and I thought that Tehrangeles was going to be my second novel. It's funny, though—my nonfiction is more popular than my fiction. It’s always been like this. The amount of readers my memoir Sick had is more than all of my books combined. The success of that book was slightly frustrating for me, because it kind of proved what I was worried about—ultimately, my greatest function for people was as a nonfiction writer. It’s nice to go back to fiction, though, to remind people that this is what came first and foremost, and what I will always think of most as writing. As art, really. Nonfiction as art feels a little bit secondary for me, even though the greatest nonfiction, of course, incorporates all of those craft elements that create great art. I compartmentalize pretty heavily, and it’s just a totally different mode to be writing in nonfiction. I just try to handle that in a much more straightforward way.

Rumpus: This is also one of the first novels I’ve read that incorporated the pandemic. It plays a large role in the story, forcing the characters to confront various aspects of themselves, and each other. I’m curious about what it meant to revisit those early months of lockdown, and how it functioned in this setting.

Khakpour: I’m someone who is interested in things right after they happen, and I want to read about life as it happens. There was a challenge, though, in writing a funny book about the pandemic. I wanted the book to obviously be satire, and to be fun, but my real life experience of the pandemic was purely horrific. I lost seven friends. I lived in Queens, New York, which was very hard hit. As I was working on this book, the soundtrack was just nonstop ambulances 24/7. I felt like I did with 9/11; I was in the center of the hard hit area, and it was very disturbing. 

Ultimately, I was a character that doesn’t really exist in the book. Maybe Mina, to some degree. Mina is longing for a communal experience, and she’s trying to educate her family. And then you have someone like Roxanna, who does my worst nightmare, which is throwing a super-spreader party. That was also a fun climax for me. A book that has a super-spreader party as its climax seemed thrilling, because the odds of me ever being in that situation were zero. Then there’s someone like Haylee, of course, who is so young, and so impressionable. She basically loses her mind during the pandemic. She goes down the rabbit hole of conspiracy theory, and ultimately becomes MAGA. In looking at Iran and some of the responses with Gaza, people are seeing the conservative Iranians very visibly right now. Right in UCLA—the heart of Tehrangeles—the aggressors tearing apart encampments are conservative Iranians. There’s an assumption that the proper position as an Iranian is to be anti-Palestinian, which is insane. Their own internalized Islamophobia is such that it has to take any position that’s very anti-Iran. There’s a feeling that the family is kind of Republican, or Republican-adjacent, but Haylee is very blatantly conservative. It’s to the point where she keeps arguing with her sisters that she’s white, and Haylee wants to identify as white. Ultimately, she was one of my favorite characters to write, because she was just so different. I could write horrible things. That experience of writing things that you’re just so opposed to; that are so insulting to your total soul—in a sense, it was kind of thrilling. Writing her, and then trying to find a way to save her—it was a difficult tightrope act.

Rumpus: I want to explore identity erasure. With Roxanna in particular, we see what it means to reject her Iranian-ness completely. 

Khakpour: I think the whole thing about Roxanna pretending to be an ethnicity that she’s not, which is the dramatic tension in her arc, is pretty real. People may think I made that up. It’s very surreal, and how could that really happen? But there are a lot of Iranian youth, I think, who pretend to be an ethnicity that they’re not, because Iranians often do have the luxury of passing for lots of things. 

In all of our lifetimes, whether you're Gen Z, Gen X, or even a boomer—you know that there’s been a lot of anti-Iranian sentiment. This is especially true in the West, but it occurs everywhere. Even throughout the Middle East there is so much anti-Iranian sentiment. It’s very tempting for young people that are already very concerned about issues of identity to then just take that leap over there. I wanted Roxanna to be in this pickle where she’s built this other identity for herself, and it works perfectly that her last name works with it; her dad’s occupation, the fact that the sisters are spaced out in school… everything works out until the idea of reality hits. And that’s kind of a funny thing. We’re talking about reality TV, but we’re also just talking about reality. Suddenly, you have to be really real. Reality TV, of course, wants to exaggerate and embellish the real elements. How can they not talk about ethnicity? Now she’s just in a state of absolute terror about what she can do to make that work, and in the end, it kind of becomes a non-issue. Nobody cares that much, but to her, it’s the end of the world. There’s this whole reckoning with her boyfriend, who is Italian, and then it’s his forgiveness of her in the end, and what that all means… I think that it was a good conceit for a piece of fiction. And I think it’s also a very real thing. I think almost every Iranian I’ve ever known—whether for issues of protection, or whatever it could be—has pretended to be someone they’re not. I’ve done it before; certainly around the 9/11 era. There were times where I felt unsafe. I would say that I was Italian. I think it’s pretty understandable, even though it's extremely comical.

*** 

Yasmin Roshanian is a writer and editor. Her work has appeared in The Rumpus, BOMB, Catapult, and elsewhere. She is at work revising a novel surrounding Iranian-Americans as they navigate college during the onset of the Obama Administration.

[sillybub]

robin i absolutely adore everything about your omegaverse also i need to ask for the rumpus cat

Everybody thinks that Rumpus Cat is an Alpha because he has a strong force of presence, and he's quick to throw fists and get into a fight when he's out stopping crimes.

He's an Omega in reality, but he lets the rumors perpetuate because it makes him seem more intimidating. He takes heat suppressant pills, because he can't allow himself to become distracted from delivering justice by base instinctual urges. As an Omega, he's a little small in stature, which he disguises by keeping his fur bristled. Additionally, he also disguises his true nature by strategically shoving socks down his suit to make his dick look bigger

[protoslacker]

The narratives we concoct and the causal relationships we want to impose where meaning is absent or difficult to find—I love that stuff. I’m finding myself writing about narrative again, and I can now see the role of narrative in my first book. I hadn’t been thinking of My Body Is a Book of Rules as a book about narrative, really, but it absolutely is, in that it’s about how I articulated the story of my life to myself, and how it was determined for me in some areas. I used to think the story I was going to tell over and over for the length of my career was about trauma, but now I think that story I’ll never give up is simply about narrative itself. My old conception of my relationship with narrative no longer serves me: I thought I was anti-narrative, but that’s simply not true; I just had language to describe my aesthetic that made it seem that way.

Elissa Washuta in interview with Greg Mania in The Rumpus. FINDING MEANING AT THE EDGE OF REALITY: TALKING WITH ELISSA WASHUTA

[hiawathab]

Werner Herzog’s Note To His Cleaning Lady

Rosalina. Woman.

You constantly revile me with your singular lack of vision. Be aware, there is an essential truth and beauty in all things. From the death throes of a speared gazelle to the damaged smile of a freeway homeless. But that does not mean that the invisibility of something implies its lack of being. Though simpleton babies foolishly believe the person before them vanishes when they cover their eyes during a hateful game of peek-a-boo, this is a fallacy. And so it is that the unseen dusty build up that accumulates behind the DVD shelves in the rumpus room exists also. This is unacceptable.

I will tell you this Rosalina, not as a taunt or a threat but as an evocation of joy. The joy of nothingness, the joy of the real. I want you to be real in everything you do. If you cannot be real, then a semblance of reality must be maintained. A real semblance of the fake real, or “real”. I have conquered volcanoes and visited the bitter depths of the earth’s oceans. Nothing I have witnessed, from lava to crustacean, assailed me like the caked debris haunting that small plastic soap hammock in the smaller of the bathrooms. Nausea is not a sufficient word. In this regard, you are not being real.

Now we must turn to the horrors of nature. I am afraid this is inevitable. Nature is not something to be coddled and accepted and held to your bosom like a wounded snake. Tell me, what was there before you were born? What do you remember? That is nature. Nature is a void. An emptiness. A vacuum. And speaking of vacuum, I am not sure you’re using the retractable nozzle correctly or applying the ‘full weft’ setting when attending to the lush carpets of the den. I found some dander there.

I have only listened to two songs in my entire life. One was an aria by Wagner that I played compulsively from the ages of 19 to 27 at least 60 times a day until the local townsfolk drove me from my dwelling using rudimentary pitchforks and blazing torches. The other was Dido. Both appalled me to the point of paralysis. Every quaver was like a brickbat against my soul. Music is futile and malicious. So please, if you require entertainment while organizing the recycling, refrain from the ‘pop radio’ I was affronted by recently. May I recommend the recitation of some sharp verse. Perhaps by Goethe. Or Schiller. Or Shel Silverstein at a push.

The situation regarding spoons remains unchanged. If I see one, I will kill it.

That is all. Do not fail to think that you are not the finest woman I have ever met. You are. And I am including on this list my mother and the wife of Brad Dourif (the second wife, not the one with the lip thing). Thank you for listening and sorry if parts of this note were smudged. I have been weeping.

Your money is under the guillotine.

[wishmachines]

I do also get a strong sense of déjà vu that’s oddly non-dramatic in what it pertains to but must somehow pertain to this question as it’s a dislocation of what you think you know about reality. For example, I’ll dream of a window distorted by the sea wind looking out on a bay and an island, and on the windowsill is a wilted yellow flower in a vase made of beveled glass. Two years later, I’ll be on vacation with my wife Ann in a place we’ve never been before and reading in a chair I’ll look up and recognize that moment from dream. I’m fairly anti-mystic, anti-Freud, etc. But I can’t deny these things happen: intrusions of dream into the mundane. Suggestions of permutations of reality that may have perfectly logical explanations but lend themselves to exploration in storytelling. I think these things are relatable in fiction because most of us experience these moments.

Jeff VanderMeer, interviewed by Monica Byrne at The Rumpus