DANIEL BAILEYDRUNK SONNET 26
I HAVE NOTHING REALLY INSIDE ME TO GIVE
IT’S ALL AN EMPTY ROOM WITH GREY CARPET
I REMEMBER DONATING TOYS AT THE FIRE DEPT.
WHEN I WAS A KID AND I WANTED THOSE TOYS
BEING A KID WAS THE MOST RETARDED SHIT EVER
BECAUSE KIDS TURN INTO ADULTS AND THAT SHIT’S WHACK
I FALL OVER DRUNK MORE THAN EVER NOW THAT I’M AN ADULT
I WANT MY FACE KICKED IN MORE THAN EVER NOW
MOST EVERYTHING STOPS WORKING EVENTUALLY
EVEN THE SUN WILL STOP WORKING, AND MY BODY
I CAN’T THINK OF ANYTHING THAT WON’T BREAK SOMEDAY
I COULD RIDE A DONKEY UP A MOUNTAIN UNTIL THE DONKEY DIES
OR THE MOUNTAIN ERODES AND SLAPS FACES WITH DIRT
AND BABIES START SNORTING COCAINE HELL YES
SP: can you describe the situation in which this book was written. by this i mean general mood, writing habits, thought process, mannerisms, social life and anything else you can think of that you now associate with THE DRUNK SONNETS.
DB: when i started writing the sonnets i was living on my brother’s couch. my girlfriend, at the time, had just broken up with me and i didn’t have a place to live anymore. all my possessions were in boxes in a small storage unit. i was drinking a lot of beer every night (mostly bass) and using my brother’s internet to blog and waste time while drinking. i was working during the days and drinking at night. that was my existence. i thought very seriously about leaving muncie and finding an adult job somewhere. fortunately, i didn’t do that. i kept my muncie job working with angry, incarcerated teenage boys. so, i searched for an apartment elsewhere in muncie. while all that was happening, i started writing sonnets on the DRUNK blog. i wrote the first 20 or so while crashing on my brother’s couch. the rest of the sonnets were composed in a word document after i found an apartment in downtown muncie. i wrote them in a word document because i didn’t have internet yet and i wrote the rest of them over a period of a couple nights. my mood during this period of time was one of extreme depression and apathy. i used the sonnets as a way to give my life meaning and purpose. my mannerisms? i don’t know. i probably slouched my shoulders a lot. i cried a lot. is crying a mannerism?
SP: why sonnets?
DB: before writing THE DRUNK SONNETS i had mostly been writing longer, free verse poems (not that the sonnets conform to any rhythm or rhyme), and i felt a little bit exhausted with that method of writing without any constraints. it’s kind of like when you’re playing a flight simulator game and you’re doing great for a while, but after a period of time you sort of glass over and get lost in the endless possibilities of flight or of writing with no line limit or anything like that or wanting to fly toward the shore and just crash there or whatever, being totally disoriented by a horizon with no end. i wanted to write something shorter. i turned to the sonnet. i had always had the attitude that i don’t need to follow in the path of the poetic tradition, that i could carve my own path. i don’t know. that’s dumb. yet, i liked writing sonnets because it was a tradition that i could fuck with and honor at the same time. the fourteen line constraint really helped me hone my ideas and let me express everything with a greater clarity that i wouldn’t have been able to do had i kept on with no finish line in sight. i still wanted to include the whole “poetic turn” in the last two lines. i wanted it to feel “real.” the cool thing about poetry is that there IS so much tradition, so much to look back at and process, something to honor, yet something to use and even abuse, but also love, you know i’m not trying to hurt you, baby, you know that right? the sonnet is the most classic of forms. it’s the most understandable of forms. it is routinely an answer in crossword puzzles. so it’s not like i was being obscure (my next book will be a book of odes).
everything i’ve said in the last paragraph, whatever. i just thought it would funny to start writing poems called DRUNK SONNETS followed by numbers and posting them on the DRUNK blog. so i did. and then i kept doing it.
i originally intended to write the exact number of sonnets that shakespeare wrote (somewhere around 150). i didn’t quite make that number. i felt like THE DRUNK SONNETS came to their own natural ending, like i had reached the end with 53, so i ended it.
and for the record, i think shakespeare’s sonnets are incredible.
SP: describe muncie indiana as a mythical monster, inlcuding its appearance, tendencies, and ways to be defeated.
DB: muncie is a large beast that sits in the middle of a burnt out church picking scabs out of its matted fur, flicking them into the rubble and sighing. it sits with its shoulders hunched low to the earth. muncie exists in a state of apathy and boredom. it takes naps several times a day and only ever leaves the walls of the burnt-out church to find food. if you approach muncie, it will not notice you, unless you crawl into its skin and become one of its many scabs (which happens often [it’s called “living there”]). muncie will never figure out what it wants out of life or what it needs to be happy. muncie needs a lot of love and attention, and fewer scabs. or for the scabs to start nurturing the skin of muncie. muncie needs to be taught to let the scabs heal and to walk out into the sun for a bit. that might make it feel better. and if muncie feels better, then muncie might actually try to fix itself. and i need the monster called muncie to stay alive because that monster taught me to be a monster, in my own way, and that is very important to me.
SP: what writing projects are you working on now?
DB: over the summer i’ve been collecting old poems/writing new poems for book #2. that’s been an on and off process, and i’m probably going to end up with just a chapbook or two or three, one of which would be one long poem entitled HALLELUJAH, GIANT SPACE WOLF. another thing i’ve done recently is record a cd of poetry/nonsense with four of my favorite human beings from muncie entitled DEATHMARCH, in which we read poems over musical instruments and broken objects and cars driving by, etc. i have another idea for a book of poems that i want to write. all i have in my head at this point is that i want to write a book of poems in which all the poems are prayers. i really want to write a ghazal.
SP: truly, is there any way around looking like an asshole on a daily basis?
DB: one way to not look like an asshole would be to stay in and never let anyone see you or even be aware of your existence. i’m tired of trying to not look like an asshole. i feel like if i’m an asshole, i am. if not, i’m not. cool. if i drive down the street wearing sunglasses and playing indie rock out my open window, i am probably an asshole. but it is bright out and i like listening to this band that i am listening to. i like the way these jeans fit, the way they are a little tight around my legs. i don’t care. i like beating this dog with a rolled-up newspaper. hell yeah. you like walking around with you shirt off and showing your tribal tattoos. i don’t care. go for it. you like wearing a shirt that shows a lot of cleavage and downloading black eyed peas ring tones. i don’t care. i believe that there are people in this world who genuinely enjoy the black eyed peas, and i like that. i probably like even more obnoxious things than the black eyed peas. harmony korine is my favorite director. try explaining why harmony korine is an amazing director to someone who “just doesn’t get it,” or to someone who has never heard of harmony korine. i’ve done that. you will look like an asshole, but if you are sincere then you are not an asshole. gummo is an incredible movie and i don’t care what that guy at work thinks. i want to be a part of this world even if it is a world filled with people who look like assholes constantly.
SP: please outline the most awkward moment you have had recently.
DB: i was at the heorot (the best bar in muncie), sitting outside, drinking with a bunch of my friends. i had my back to a rail and i knew my friend shaun gannon was standing behind me. i was talking to a friend directly in front of me. a hand came from behind my head and covered my mouth. i bit the hand assuming it was shaun gannon. i bit very hard. the hand did not belong to shaun. it was a girl i had never met. i tried for several minutes to apologize to her. she just kept saying “it’s ok” and looking around like she was looking for a horse to tape me to and send me into a nuclear blast or at least looking for someone she knew to talk to instead of me or my friends. then she rode off on her fixed gear and whatever. i probably wont’ ever see her again now that i’m in colorado. several hours later we burned an american flag.
SP: what is the best kind of chip or chip-like snakc and why.
DB: i don’t really eat snack foods, so this is tough. i remember having a brand of kettle-cooked potato chip that came from chicago that i really liked, but i haven’t seen that brand in a couple years. i probably won’t see it ever again now that i live in colorado. that was a really boring answer.
SP: can you tell us about how the book came to be published.
DB: the original sonnets had a good reception, so i decided to post the rest of them on the DRUNK blog. i made a post on my own blog saying something like, “if anyone wants to publish these, email me.” less than two hours later, mike emailed me. he told me to take down what i said about “if anyone wants to publish these.” mike wanted to make THE DRUNK SONNETS the first magic helicopter full-length release. that’s basically the story. i’m pretty sure i put the least amount of effort into getting a poetry book published than any poet in recent history.
SP: please tell us one person you love and describe how that love manifests.
DB: i love my friend adam. we worked together for about a year. we went out most nights. he is one of the few people that i can talk to drunk and not do anything badass and not feel like i’ve wasted my night. he is the main person that i plan to never lose touch with after leaving muncie. that is all i can say. also, we have smashed things together. i also answer interview questions about him, which is another way my love manifests.
SP: the best brand of forty is ______
DB: mickey’s for taste. st. ides if you want to get drunk.
BG: i can't let that one slide. if you wanna get fucked up on the quick, you gotta down that steel reserve.
SP: who is one actor/writer/anybody you would like to put into a headlock and hold the headlock for a long time?
DB: i really want to put natalie portman into a headlock, because i’m pretty sure she would become become attracted to me and eventually love me and she’d support me forever with her acting $$$ and let me just do the same shit that i dun been doin’ and she’d probably be ok with me writing a movie and maybe even produce it and then i’d be able to be awesome and be a director like harmony korine or wernor herzog or kurosawa or even that guy that did the passion of the christ. and my movie (film) would make me famous and rich. and then me and natalie portman would have kickass sex in our huge mansion on top of a pile of benjamins and we’d fall asleep together and then in the morning we’d awake together and we’d look out our bedroom window and watch the smoke rise from the spot where we set doves on fire in our plea to the gods of hell yes and then we would commit suicide because we’re bored and don’t really like each other anymore.
SP: if you could plan your next birthday party however you wanted, how would it be?
DB: i would be back in muncie, indiana, with all the people i love, hugging them all at least ten times each, drinking until the sun rose and spoke to us, “why in the hell are you still awake? you have defied my rule of the day and the moon’s rule of the night.” and then the sun and the moon would collide and the earth would be destroyed in the resulting explosion.
but i know that i’ll be across the country, so i’ll have to find something fun to do here.
SP: can you describe something you strive for in writing down anything.
DB: i don’t know what i strive for. i don’t know what i want any time i write something down. honesty? that’s a fucking lame response. for people to like me? a little bit. a sense of purpose? somewhat. i guess after reading all of everything that i’ve loved and watching all the movies i’ve loved and inhaling all the music that has defined moments and periods of my life, i want to create something that has that much power and meaning to myself or someone else. i just want to make something … ahh … i can’t finish this answer … i’m sitting in my apartment and the fan is flipping the pages of my newly signed apartment lease and shaun gannon’s chapbook and ryan rader’s chapbook are both sitting there and i feel like an infant right now, like i’ve been recently inducted into THE HALL OF INCREDIBLE SHIT and this is my induction ceremony. all i want to do is fall asleep in a hammock, bathed in the sun, with a bunch of dragonflies flying over my body, for the dragonflies to look at me briefly and look at my face and maybe my fingernails with the dirt under them and then fly away, for the dragonflies to never look at me again. and then for me to wake up and walk away from that. that’s what i want.