Randy Cornett was pushed onto a green stage at the Nite Owl.
His dark hair was a matted and tangled mess.
His beard wasn't so much a beard - It just looked like he was too lazy to shave.
His suit jacket was decent for "off the rack" and his crater face gleamed.
"Here he is ladies and gentlemen, your headliner!"
He rummaged his pockets for scraps of napkins and torn notebook paper.
"Wow, um, thanks. This is a dream for you."
Faint laughter.
"I'm going to read from the Book of Alcoholism and Forced Manliness."
He cleared his throat and spoke too far into the microphone.
Stage hands would refill his Guiness glass every ten minutes.
After the reading a small audience Q and A took place.
"How many women have you fucked?"
"I don't know what that is. I'm a virgin."
"How much alcohol do you think is in your system?"
"Not as much as you'd think. I'm only a social drinker."
"What was your process for writing that piece you did about railroads?"
"I like the drinking questions. Bring those back."

H.P. Nashgille from public radio brought two leather chairs out for the interview.
Full of Guiness, Randy plopped down in one.
"Do any of these characters you write about come from real figures in your life?"
"Yes and no. The fathers, the mothers, the siblings and the friends normally. I actually don't know Fatty Arbuckle or anyone who worked on a railroad so for the most part that was just self-indulgent bullshit."
H.P. tapped his pen on his note cards.
Randy was sweating pure body fat by this point, hands clammy and rubbing the inside of his thighs slowly.
"I was checking resources, looking into your family history and such..."
"You grew up in...Mason, Ohio right?"
"Hmmm....well. I've um....yeah."
"What's your fucking question?"
"Mason, Ohio is a very suburban community isn't it? An upper class area with rich job opportunities. Says your father had his own house painting company and your mother was a nurse."
Poor advice.
Oh, and let me just say I think your pieces have more impact on your audience recently not only because they are generally more concrete and tangible imagery driven but also because you're now saving most of your profound poetics for the end where they spew like complaints from a teenage girl.

That is to say, I believe you are treating your pieces almost like jokes. You build up to the punchline with short, provocative, and, put plainly, well written lines and dialogue, and then break down the walls with a seemingly last burst of raw emotion.

Its just amazing to watch how your pieces unfold.

Extremely well written as always. I do have, however one problem, and that's the fact that the general jist of the second half of this piece sounds a lot like Conor Oberst's interview on Fevers and Mirrors. I'm not saying that you've ripped it off or anything, but it definitely reminds me heavily of the interview, considering they both discuss the place the author grew up and how it wasn't a bad place, the self indulgence in the works, etc.

Of course it's still a very good piece of writing, I'm just giving comments on what I think.
To tell you the truth, I havent even really listened to Fevers and Mirrors.

And synth, I'm glad you noticed that, because it's been intentional.
Poor advice.
I like the drinking questions. Bring those back.

I wasn't sure where this was going though I was entertained all throughout. I was pleased with the ending. That's right, pleased.

I noticed the Oberst thing too, but I don't think that's of any matter.

The tooth made me squirm and I thought of it and squirmed as I made my way to the end.
love dead like a crushed fly

for those of you who said you'd be interested in hearing my lyrics put to music- I started work on recording an album, if you get in touch with me pm or otherwise I'd be more than happy to fill you in
Thank you.

I didn't even know there was an interview on Fevers and Mirrors. To be honest, my source of inspiration for the interview was a scene from Margot at the Wedding, and it took off from there.
Poor advice.