Talking about wrestling with my good pal Jason

My feelings toward the act of writing run hot and cold. The cold is existential dread. With interviews, it is quite the opposite. If I could spend half the day in conversation—walking around or sitting on a riverbank or sharing a meal—and read for the other half of the day, I would be the happiest camper. Other but not all writers feel this way.

Ahead of an interview, no matter who it is, I feel first-date nerves—good nerves. When things are going well, I let the conversation meander and carry on too long. I am not in control. I even like transcribing (it’s true!) and the opportunity it provides to revisit, to pick up on whatever I might have missed in the moment. I savor whittling a transcript down into something consumable, into something that honestly mirrors the voice of its subject.

In embarking upon this series for The PDXX Collective, I’ve humbly borrowed my title from the late Studs Terkel, to whom we storytellers, we who value the preservation of all voices, owe such a great debt. Acknowledging that I’m no Studs Terkel, still I intend to use this space to introduce the voices of friends, acquaintances, and passing strangers—some you will have heard of; most, not.

I’ll begin with a friend. Jason Ellis, of Milwaukee, Wisconsin, is a walking encyclopedia on heavy metal and horror, a metal singer, a radio host, a DIY music promoter, and a longtime volunteer at the Milwaukee Women’s Center (for whom he also organizes an annual fundraiser, DIY vs. Domestic Abuse). The conversation that follows is not new; in fact, it’s one of the first interviews I ever conducted. Having been assigned a short profile piece for a class a few years ago, my original subject fell through and I had nerves—bad nerves—until Jason agreed to fill in at the zero hour. The dude is smart, hilarious, a true brother—and once upon a time he tried his hand at professional wrestling.

Read the part where I finally let Jason talk, here. 

Transcuba. Bitch Magazine #64

The rad ladies at Bitch Magazine let me write up this gorgeous book of photography and words for the Love/Lust issue.

Writing Process Blog Tour

My dear, sweet, smart, handsome, multi-talented, hardworking friend Cooper Lee Bombardier invited me to join this Writing Process Blog Tour, and I said yes. It is impossible to say no to the ones I admire the most. Also, this seemed like as good a time as any to revisit the blog I never remember I have. 

1. What are you working on?

I am working on my thesis (Still? my friends and family ask; Still, I say), which— because these things need to be named—is called Cuba Libre: Punk Rock in the Belly of the Crocodile. In short, it is a group of essays about the punk movement in Cuba; more precisely, these essays are about my encounters with this movement and a swell of other issues, besides, including but not limited to hunger, economic disparity, effort, censorship, tourism, borders, and what I think of as a universal inclination toward a sense of freedom.

Beyond that, I’m in the early building stages of something whose form has yet to announce itself, about my adolescence-into-early-teens best friend and I and an ongoing fascination with the story of James Vance and Ray Belknap, the young men whose suicide pact was blamed on the supposed subliminal messages within Judas Priest’s Stained Class LP. (Note: my best friend and I did not have a suicide pact. Another note: Stained Class is one of the greatest records of all time. Another note: sometimes it's not hyperbole, it's fact.)

2. How do you think your work differs from others in its genre?

I began to answer this question by listing all of the things my work is not (but that I wish it were)—a characteristically Piper answer I'd like to avoid, because this doesn't strike me as an appropriate forum for self-flagellation. Instead, I'll say some words about what I think my writing is, though whether the answer highlights any significant difference from other writers in the (enormously varied) genre of narrative nonfiction, I don't know.

I guess most often I find myself writing around questions that I know I will never quite answer, but that nag at me anyway—and my hope is that the work demonstrates the sort of befuddled awe with which I move through the world, as well as some occasional bright ideas. I hope that anyone who reads my work appreciates the transparency, has a few laughs, learns something they didn’t know before, and/or walks away with questions, with invigorated curiosity... really any kind of reaction (though preferably positive) will do.

3. Why do you write what you do?

I write because I can’t sit and visit all day long, because things nag at me and writing is the best way I know to work through them, because I think better on paper, because I am awestruck and want others to share in my wonder, and because words are a joy and the love of my life. 

4. How does your writing process work?

I’m not nearly as diligent as I wish I were. My blood gets extra hot—in a good way—under a deadline, even a generous one, so those help a lot. Having a good audience, ear, and/or editor-—when I'm ready for it, and sometimes when I'm not—is an incredible motivator. I almost always begin with pen and paper, and I prefer to do early revisions that way, too. If I try to commit anything to type before sufficiently working it through in a notebook, I tend to freeze up and fall into the usual, embarrassing distractions. Deadlines aside, I write in fevered bursts and then don’t write for days. And I rely heavily on my home library, my school's library, and the public library for inspiration and some company along the way.

Woodland Pattern in Milwaukee: Where Poetry Month is Year-Round

Sometimes you have to write a blog post, and occasionally you get to write it about a place you love. Read about this magical bookstore in Milwaukee, here.

Notes from Cuba. MRR #368

While there's no queer punk scene per se in Cuba (not yet, anyway), when the editors of Maximum Rocknroll asked if I wanted to contribute a scene report to their 2014 Queer Issue, I knew immediately what it would be. Like the piece itself, I'll keep this short and sweet: Santa Clara, you are my favorite. El Mejunje, you are like no-place else on earth!

1991:

"Amadeus" is screened in a 7th grade classroom. Two young critics refuse to be thwarted by the room's near-total darkness. THEY KNOW THESE WORDS WILL BE IMPORTANT SOMEDAY.

Interview with Faythe Levine

[Excerpt]At 34, Faythe Levine is a doyenne of the independent arts and crafts movement: a documentarian, contemporary folk art collector, curator of Sky High Gallery in Milwaukee, and founder of the wildly successful Art vs. Craft fair, her 2009 film Handmade Nation garnered widespread attention; in the years since its release, Levine’s work has been courted internationally and featured in such publications as ArtForum and the New York Times. In October, Princeton Architectural Press will release Sign Painters, the companion book to Levine’s forthcoming film, The Sign Painter Movie. This latest project—a collaboration with filmmaker Sam Macon—is the culmination of three years spent interviewing and working alongside American sign painters, whose craft has helped shape the aesthetics of our public spaces. 

When Faythe and I caught up in late June, it was midnight on the eve of a nasty Midwestern heat wave and several weeks sooner than we’d planned—I’d locked myself out of the Milwaukee house I was sitting and she offered up her guest room. The next day, over a supremely tasty breakfast of poached eggs, polenta, greens, and iced coffee, we talked a little bit about personal stuff and a lot about the people who paint signs.– Eleanor Piper

[Read the rest at The Believer Logger]