Clementine came up and said this to me this morning. I guess she’d seen the television news somewhere last night. I didn’t know where to begin…

In retrospect, I probably should have started by asking why Paula Deen’s death would bring her anything but sadness, but, instead, after taking a few minutes to process what she’d told me, and figuring out that she must have somehow confused the portly white-haired butter pusher with Phyllis Diller, who had just passed away at the age of 95, I launched into a long… and, I’m sure, unappreciated… lecture on how important Phyllis Diller was to the women’s movement, and how, according to legend, she used to live in Ypsilanti, and sing in the choir of our local Presbyterian church.

One of the few regrets I have in life is not pursuing an interview with Phyllis Diller mare aggressively. I’d gotten as far as her agent, and I’d set up a call about fifteen years ago, but, when it didn’t happen as planned, I kind of just let it slide. I would have loved to have asked her what Ypsi was like in the 40′s, and whether or not her brief experience here informed her decision to challenge the dominant paradigm of the day, and pursue a career in comedy in spite of her sex.

update: It looks like I may have read too much into Clementine’s “kind of happy” comment. We just had a long talk about it, and it appears as though she wasn’t talking about Deen’s death at all. According to her, she was commenting on the kind of rich, southern cooking that Deen was known for, and how it was bad for people. It may not have come out quite the way she had intended, but what she had meant to say was that while it was sad that Deen had died, that perhaps, if you had to find a silver lining, maybe healthier alternatives to the food that she was pushing would now make their way to television. So, she’s neither a “sociopath,” nor an “amazing, precocious soul,” as some of you have suggested. She’s just a regular little girl, with a still less than artful grasp of the English language… I just found it funny that she thought the 95 year old Phyllis Diller was Paula Deen.

As for the stories that he shares here, I don’t think that much is new. It’s all stuff, for the most part, that you can read in that interview that I did with Zmuda about a dozen years ago, when I was living in LA (If you can find that back issue of Crimewave), or in his book, Andy Kaufman Revealed. Still, though, it’s fun as hell, and it’s great to be reminded of Kaufman’s undeniable genius.

I could go on and on about my love for Kaufman, who I believe was the most brilliant entertainer of my generation, but, as I think that most of you are probably already fans, I’ll just encourage you to follow the link above, and listen to the interview.

Speaking of Kaufman, I don’t know that I’ve ever shared this, but you know how people will ask you on occasion, “If you could have a dinner party with any four people, living or dead, who would you choose?” Well, Andy Kaufman has always been at the top of my list. The other three slots change, depending on how I’m feeling at any given time, but Kaufman is always a constant…. Some of the others that I’d consider extending an invitation to, in case you’re interested… Kurt Vonnegut, Buckminster Fuller, Patrick McGoohan, Martin Luther King Jr., Thomas Jefferson, Peter Falk, Bessie Smith, Jack Benny, Iggy Pop, Groucho Marx, Abraham Lincoln, Lucile Ball, FDR, Ben Franklin, Charlie Chaplin, John Barrymore, Marlene Dietrich, Winsor McCay, Charles Darwin, Leonardo Da Vinci, George Harrison, Grace Kelly, Don Knots, Chris Elliot, Robert Kennedy, Stanley Kubrick, Malcolm X, Myrna Loy, Eleanor Roosevelt, Thomas Paine, William Powell, Orson Welles, Carl Sagan, Harriet Tubman, Woody Guthrie, Katherine Hepburn, Joey Ramone, Frederick Douglas, Klaus Kinski, P.T.Barnum, Billy Wilder, Woody Allen, Andy Warhol, Harry Houdini, Nicola Tesla, Mark Twain, J.D. Salinger, Gregory Peck, Tim Carey, Thomas Edison, Thomas Pynchon, and, because of the stories that Bob Zmuda tells about having worked for him, Norman Wexler. (You have to at least listen to the Wexler portion of Maron’s interview with Zmuda, if nothing else.)

Sorry for the tangent, but it was fun just sitting here, letting my mind wonder for a few minutes, thinking about the people that I’d most like to have a beer with… knowing full well, of course, that none them, except for maybe Joey Ramone, would take any interest in talking with me whatsoever. Maybe they’d ask me where the bathroom was, or ask me to fetch them a drink, but that’s probably about it. Still, though, I think it would be great to have Ben Franklin pat me on the butt, and send me into the kitchen for a flaming rum punch.

For those of you in the audience who have yet to experience the brilliance of Andy Kaufman, I’d suggest starting with his historic Carnegie Hall show, which is discussed at length in the interview with Maron. Here’s the first act. (The subsequent segments can be found on YouTube.)

MARK: What’s your name?

FOREST: Forest Juziuk

MARK: How long have you lived in the Ypsi/Arbor area?

FOREST: In 2000, I moved to Ypsilanti with two friends: Brian Hunter and Coney McGillicutty. Coney was almost immediately arrested for drug possession. We were friends for years but had no idea he was into that sort of thing and we never saw him after that. A couple years later, I owned a house under a subprime loan east of Depot Town. I didn’t sell it but I moved to Ann Arbor with Brian Hunter, Erin Nicole Bratkovich and our dog Chacho sometime in 2006 or so.

MARK: Not that it’s important to the story, but when you say, “I didn’t sell it,” should I assume that the bank did?

FOREST: Yeah, the mortgage company suggested I stop making payments & I gave up the house. A subprime loan is just about the shittiest thing you could buy into. I didn’t really understand it. And when you begin to understand what a subprime loan is, it makes absolutely no sense. It’s obvious that a complete and total asshole came up with it and I was an idiot to buy in.

MARK: Is Coney McGillicutty a pseudonym? It sounds like what you’d call a hotdog rolled up in a boxty, with some cabbage.

FOREST: No, Coney was a really sweet kid and… man, the whole thing was heartbreaking for Brian and me. After Coney’s arrest, Brian and I went through a rough patch. He started making paper mache sculptures with newsprint and got black smudge-y fingerprints all over the walls and I freaked out. I yelled at him, and he vomited.

MARK: Where are you moving?

FOREST: Erin Nicole and I are moving to San Francisco, CA. We call it “San Fran-frisky.”

MARK: Will you be taking Brian Hunter with you in a knapsack or something?

FOREST: Brian Hunter and I are very close. We met in 1987 and talk every day. If he wanted to move to California, I would be ecstatic. But we’re always collaborating on projects in one way or another and don’t necessarily need to be in the same city to do so. Right now he’s helping with a comedy record and is a ghost writer on my Midwest Scene Report column. I will miss the holy fucking ghost out of him.

MARK: If you aren’t taking Brian Hunter with you, will you be looking to recruit a new Brian Hunter-type sidekick when you get there? Do you have posters already made up? (The reason I ask is, I just met up with Hollis from the band Manhole in Portland, and he’s apparently looking for new band members there who look like the guys who formerly played in the band here.)

FOREST: There is only one Brian Hunter.

MARK: Why are you moving?

FOREST: Having spent the majority, or, in my case, the entirety of our lives in Michigan, we’ve been chomping at the bit to leave the area for a spell and see what it’s like to live in one season. Beyond that, it gets complicated. We’re beginning to experience how difficult it is to leave our friends and community but there was a point when we realized something wasn’t working and we found an opportunity to experience something new.

There was a period of time last year that I was deeply upset by the city of Ann Arbor. The city spent something like $700,000 on 200 garish directional signs telling tourists where the Power Center is. At the same time, University of Michigan paid the city only $800,000 for fire department services. Meanwhile, they built a new city hall & laid off cops and firefighters every week. The parking meters? Chicago Reader did several great articles on the dirty shenanigans pulled by Mayor Daley and their meters. And Google? How many jobs did they actually create in the area to keep the real estate deals and otherwise that they scored?

MARK: When I met you, you were just a kid, right? I remember you coming up and introducing yourself to Linette and me in Borders. I remember because it was just the third time that anyone had ever recognized us from our magazine, Crimewave USA. How old were you then, and what had brought you to Ann Arbor?

FOREST: That’s hilarious! I was 20 or 21 and recognized you from The Book of Zines, specifically the infamous Geraldo appearance. Brian, Coney & I moved from Port Huron to Ypsilanti to attend EMU. Initially I wanted to move to Olympia, WA to attend Evergreen, but I let a friend talk me out of it to open one of those mall kiosks that sells miniature frogs and fighting fish. It was a fruitful venture but I got my ass kicked at an A&W and left town as soon as I got the acceptance call from EMU.

MARK: So, you were working at a kiosk in a Port Huron mall, selling miniature frogs before coming to Ypsi? You’ve had some interesting jobs. I also remember looking up one day and seeing you sawing a big chunk of something bloody behind the Hillers meat counter.

FOREST: It didn’t matter what you touched at the meat counter, you always went home smelling like bologna. But it was a union job and you could never get fired. You could eat an entire raw salmon without paying for it and the manager will surely “fire” you but you can go right in the next day and start your shift like nothing happened.

MARK: For those unaware of your many achievements, what is it that you did during your residency here in Ypsi/Arbor?

FOREST: In the last five years, Erin Nicole, myself and a really radical group of friends have put on a bunch of shows: screenings, concerts, DJ nights like Dark Matter and The Whip, spoken word and performance art things, etc. Very often, over 100 people would come to these things and that’s totally insane. It’s awesome. Also, many of us perform: Van Houten, Ted Kennedy, B. Thomas Hunter, Skate Laws, Blood Club. A few of us put out records and discs under a label called Hall Of Owls.

MARK: Are you going to try to move your Hott Lava film series to a venue in San Francisco? Will you ever be touring with films, and, if so, might you stop here?

FOREST: Yeah yeah. Actually, we’re working with a group of people in town to continue to do HL events here. For the most part, we think it will be sponsored screenings like what we did with Eraserhead, Hausu, Enter The Void, Holy Mountain and El Topo but I hope it will work out that we can put on a variety of screenings here and in California.

MARK: A lot of people seem to think the Ann Arbor arts scene will implode when you leave. How does that make you feel – bad, important, ashamed, aroused?

FOREST: I refuse to spend any time pondering my stature within the Ann Arbor arts scene. Someone told me that there are people waiting in the wings to take over the scene when we’re gone. That was baffling and significantly depressing because I imagined how cool it would be if these people “waiting in the wings” were putting on events too. Then I started to think about it and realized Erin and I started HOTT LAVA when Ann Arbor seemed particularly stagnant. The band Nomo had moved away and their house shows were pretty crucial — sweating basement walls! Lauren Hill, an exceptional party promoter in town, moved to New York. There wasn’t much going on so it might have seemed like we were kinda’ swooping in once they were outta’ here. At any rate, everything ebbs and flows. If there is a void left by us moving away, I imagine something will fill it.

MARK: I know that I’ve pissed you off in the past by referring to you as Ann Arbor’s “one man arts community,” which was kind of a purposeful misinterpretation of something once written on AnnArbor.com about you, but the idea that Ann Arbor’s arts community had atrophied to just one person kind of made me chuckle. Anyway, I’d like to apologize for that. On that subject, though, would you agree that Ann Arbor’s art scene has atrophied significantly over the past several years?

FOREST: Certainly, there are less venues and galleries in Ann Arbor than ever before. Even five years ago, there were more houses putting on shows and spaces open to the idea of hosting something a little bit peculiar. That might be the case everywhere though. Someone told me that they chose to live in Ann Arbor because the worst thing they wanted to happen to them was a dry cleaner pressing their pants wrong. Something about that clicked. When Mayor John Hieftje is on the radio insisting that Ann Arbor is still pretty “funky” and claims Rick’s American Cafe as a fine rock venue, something is up.

For Erin Nicole & me, it’s only become more difficult to put on events. In terms of values, we don’t like doing events in bars. You don’t have to worry as much about money when putting on an event at a bar, but it doesn’t mean they’re managed any better than the most disorganized DIY affair. For the type of shows that we put on, not using a bar means one space: Blind Pig. It’s a single venue but it’s a serious chunk of the scene. We did one event there and it did really well for all parties but at the end of the night I caught one of the staff members literally yelling at Erin Nicole because of something one of the performers said on stage. When I walked up, he stepped back and began speaking in a less fiery tone. How fucked is that? According to this guy, the performer complained about the price of a bottle of water. It’s fucked on so many levels.

Secondly, in a couple cases, because our events have done fairly well, the managers of various rental spaces have jacked up the rates, but only with us. Once we had a Monday event and were charged $100 more than the renters for the Friday of that same week — and we referred them. That burned. For the most part, we work with musicians and filmmakers that require a guarantee. Without bar sales and with increased rental rates, it becomes very, very difficult to work with these musicians and filmmakers.

Still, I spoke with the City Editor of Ann Arbor’s new A.V. Club about venues and came up with a list larger than I thought was actually available. But several of the venues are underground spaces A.V. Club can’t cover without busting them (much like the Golden Cat/MarkMaynard.com debacle a couple years ago!). But I like Canterbury House a lot. I like Name Brand Tattoo. I love Dreamland. I went to a great art show at Gallery Project recently. Also, Shelley Sallant is the best promoter in Ann Arbor right now. I know she feels a fair amount of weight trying to find venues.

But it’s Ann Arbor. If you complain about the situation, people throw up their hands and say that’s the way it is. You make do and make it interesting for yourself. This is a desert and these places I mentioned are oases. You can walk up and down State St. and wonder just what the fuck is going on. You can meet someone from Chicago on Liberty St. and they’ll ask you where downtown is.

MARK: It’s a small point, but I’m not sure what you mean when you say, “For the type of shows that we put on, not using a bar means one space: Blind Pig.” Isn’t the Pig a bar?

FOREST: Normally, we would not choose to host a show at Blind Pig. In this case, the show was too large (Flying Lotus + Mahjongg), rental spaces fell through, timing was of the essence because it was tied into the Ann Arbor Film Festival… it was the best decision we could have made given the circumstances. The Bang! crew, who dearly loves Blind Pig, really came through for us there. Jeremy Wheeler and Mariah Cherem of The Bang! are two of the most amazing people on Earth.

And since the smoking ban and gaining a new soundman, I’ve started to really enjoy going to Blind Pig. But that culture and entertainment are so entwined with liquor is a total bummer. One thing we do take pride in is being able to pay acts high guarantees without relying on alcohol sales. But that usually means we have to hold a dance party after a film event. And then we got a strong reputation for throwing raging, “art-y” parties which… is fine. Haha. It’s not exactly the rep we were going for.

MARK: I missed it, but I heard that, when you made the introduction to The Ballad of Genesis & Lady Jaye at the last Ann Arbor Film Festival, you kind of called people out for not being involved enough in the local arts scene. What was it that you said?

FOREST: I hope it didn’t have the vibe of calling people out because it was more of a call for advocacy — actually attending events rather than saying you “support” them and then staying home to drink beer and watch TV. Although now that I’m thinking about it, it was a little bit soap box-y. It was maybe a little bit of Ian MacKaye style “Out of Step” talk, but I did it with a kind of southern lisp to lighten it a bit: Stop taking photos of food to post on your blog. Stop talking about mainstream beers over something really weird you saw or experienced. If you want to live in a genuinely interesting city, you have to do some work. You have to go to things and talk about them with other people. Don’t treat things like you’re a consumer that needs to be entertained by every experience. Get out of your comfort zone, break things, and watch them catch fire.

MARK: Why San Francisco?

FOREST: As my friend Daniel said, “You’ll be living the best quality of life. You’ll be up to your neck in avocados. A bad taste will not touch your mouth the entire time you’re there.” I work on State St. in Ann Arbor. The idea that I won’t experience bad food tastes anymore is REALLY appealing. It’s painfully beautiful in San Francisco, I have friends out there, and there are lots of venues and DJ gigs waiting. I want to spend some time living in an area with lots of people doing a lot of things. To imagine that I might have to choose between which film thingamajig or weird show to go to… it boggles the mind. New York is not my speed. SF isn’t a big city like New York. It’s closer to what I know but with more going on. And I’d like to try living in a place with one season for a while.

MARK: Not to dissuade you from your premise, but isn’t it possible that the same percentage of people are actually doing interesting stuff in San Francisco, but that the population is just a lot bigger?

FOREST: Yeah. That sounds great.

MARK: What’s the first thing you plan to do when you get to San Francisco?

FOREST: Kiss my folks goodbye and take a nap in the park.

MARK: Why did you get your ass kicked at that A&W?

FOREST: If I I told you…. Brother, I have A&W stories that could make your dog run in circles. That particular story is legally bound between the owner of a roller rink and myself.

MARK: So, when you come back to visit… let’s say in five years… what would you like to see going on here?

FOREST: City Hall in rubble. Starbucks in flames. Buffalo Wild Wings as a bookstore. No frat houses. Concerts in the streets. Anonymous alleyway film screenings. Respectable wages for terrible service positions. Lower commercial rental rates. Perhaps most of all: University Of Michigan paying a fraction of the tax on property they own.

And, here, for those of you dying to see what Forest looks like, is a brief interview I did with him at the 2009 Summer Shadow Art Fair, in the men’s room of the Corner Brewery.

As for my purpose behind conducting these exit interviews, I’m not so sure. I thought, at first, that perhaps we could learn something of value about our community, and why it is that people – especially people who contribute in significant ways – are leaving. While I still think that’s the case, I’m not so sure what we can realistically do about it. So far, of the friends I’ve spoken to who are in the process of leaving, many have commented on the weather in Michigan. While I do think that we can work on certain things, like increasing the number of venues for events, I’m not sure what can realistically be done about the lack of sunshine, or our access to ripe avocados. Still, I think that this “exit interview” project will yield some interesting, actionable results, and not just depress the hell out of us… If you know of other people who are leaving the Ypsi/Arbor area, let me know, and I’ll talk with them as well.

The night before I left LA for good, Jeff came over to my apartment to say goodbye. We had some beers, I gave him a table and a chair that wouldn’t fit in my car, and, then I started blubbering like what my friend Jennifer would call a “little titty baby”. Other than Linette, Jeff was the closest thing I’d ever had to a collaborator – we’d actually shot some film and started on a rough draft of a book – and it broke my black, cannonball-sized heart to be leaving him. That was over ten years ago now. And, while I’ve gotten sucked into local Michigan politics and the like, Jeff has stayed focused on his creative endeavors. He not only operates one of America’s most ripped-off comedy sites, but he’s now a published author. What follows is our conversation about his first novel, Crossroads Road, which was just released this week.

Mark: So, you say you’ve gone and written a book.

Jeff: That’s right. It’s a novel of sorts, called Crossroads Road. I started writing it after I was laid-off from my job of seventeen years, and finished a couple of years later. I worked on it, off and on, for a long time. It’s a comic novel, for entertainment purposes only.

Mark: What’s it about? Is there a main character? Does he face a crisis of some kind? Is anyone’s life in peril? Does anyone shit their pants?

Jeff: Jovis McIntire is a standard-issue suburban dad, living in Pennsylvania with his family. His mother-in-law, a woman he calls Sunshine, hits a multi-state lottery and wins $234 million. She makes an identical offer to all her children and their families: a large, custom-built home and two million dollars cash. However, there’s a catch. If they take the deal they’ll be required to live together on a newly-created cul-de-sac in southern California. Jovis views his extended family as a gaggle of kooks, and he and his wife quickly reject the offer. Then Jovis returns to his job, and realizes he’s now there by choice.

That’s the general premise. And I can’t remember anyone shitting their pants in the book. However, Jovis does have an encounter with a special toilet manufactured for the morbidly obese.

Mark: Given that the locations – Pennsylvania and California – are both places that you’ve lived with your family, and the fact that you too refer to your mother-in-law as Sunshine, would I be correct in assuming that Jovis is somewhat autobiographical, at least with regard to the way he views the world around him?

Jeff: Yes, but Jovis isn’t exactly like me. I think it’s safe to say he’s a ratcheted-up version. I’m fairly laid-back in real life, and keep my feelings of exasperation bottled up. At least until I can write my next Surf Report post… Jovis wears it all on his sleeve.

Mark: So, what made you decide to go the self-publishing route?

Jeff: My agent was unable to find a buyer for the novel. To be fair, he had warned me up-front that a comic novel by a newcomer is an uphill battle, even during the best of times. But these aren’t the best of times, the publishing industry is struggling, and nobody was willing to take a chance.

Someone suggested I self-publish and it made me really angry. I had a negative view of self-publishing, and thought of it as the last refuge for desperate hacks. I was pretty disgusted by the whole experience, but didn’t want to give up on the book.

Begrudgingly, I started reading a little about self-publishing — or indie publishing as some people are now calling it — and it’s come a long way since the days of vanity presses, and that sort of thing. The Kindle Store and NOOKBooks are paying really high royalties to authors, and operations like Amazon’s CreateSpace make it easy to publish a high-quality trade paperback on demand.

I decided to take the plunge, but wanted the final product to be as professional as possible. My agent had put me through two re-writes, so the plotting was pretty tight, I thought. But I had a couple of editors read it for grammar, punctuation, and spelling. I hired a formatter, who got it ready for print, and also Kindle and ePub, the two main electronic formats. And I asked the Evil Twin, a talented artist and friend I’ve known for many years, to do the cover.

If nothing else, the book looks freaking fantastic.

Mark: And, judging from the updates you’ve been sending out to the readers of your site, it sounds as though the response has been incredible… Didn’t you just have to to stop offering signed copies because there was too much demand?

Jeff: Yeah, I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me. It’s one of those good problems to have, I know. But I had to cut off orders, because it was getting out of hand. I’m going to have to set up a distribution center in my living room.

Mark: How many are we talking about?

Jeff: 200 or 225, somewhere in that neighborhood. I know it’s not a huge number, in the grand scheme of things, but I was expecting 50 or 60. And I’m certainly not complaining. I’m excited by the positive response. It’s been great so far. And, of course, the book remains available at Amazon and Barnes & Noble, and I was just approved to sell it at iTunes, too. It took a while for Apple to come around, but they finally did.

Mark: So, what’s next? Will you be doing a book tour, or having public readings around Scranton? Have you started a second book?

Jeff: My job from this point will be promotion. I’m going to appear on the morning show at a local radio station next week, and will hopefully be doing some additional press, as well. I’ve been so busy getting the various formats of the book up and running, I haven’t done much work in that direction yet. But I will. It’s important, and also a little intimidating. It’s easy to get the word out to the regulars at my website, but the trick is going to be to attract readers who are unfamiliar with my work.

I haven’t started a second book yet. I have a new agent, who is fantastic, and she and I have been discussing the possibility of an autobiographical non-fiction project. In fact, the article I wrote for Crimewave, about my days working at a West Virginia convenience store, is the inspiration for it. It could be a lot of fun, and apparently non-fiction is more attractive to publishers. I don’t pretend to understand any of it.

If the novel goes well, I might also write a follow-up to it. I might be able to finish another one before my heart seizes up.

Mark: Are you concerned at all about your online life and your offline life colliding, as you venture out of the bunker to do press? I seem to recall that, at least a few years ago, you dreaded the possibility that people at work, and in your non-immediate family, might find out what you were up to. Have you gotten over that?

Jeff: Yeah, I’m not overly concerned at this point. I don’t write about work anymore, so that’s not a problem. Years ago I would rant and rave online about things that happened in my office, and was always mildly concerned people might find my website and cause me problems. I wasn’t smart enough to stop the ranting, mind you, I’d just walk around with a low-grade worry all the time.

And when I started counting the number of times the word “fuck” was spoken on Deadwood, the old HBO show, I was working for Time-Warner — which owns HBO. That ‘Fucks in Deadwood’ page was linked at the Drudge Report for four or five days in a row, and then every blog on the planet linked to it as well, and it got really crazy. The Los Angeles Times ran an article, and interviewed the creator of Deadwood about it, and it ran on a Sunday. The next day I went to work and had to go on a conference call with… HBO Home Video. I was shitting crystal clear ice water, convinced somebody would reveal my dark secret. But not a word was ever said about it.

Nobody at my current job knows about my website, as far as I know, but it won’t be the end of the world if they find it. I haven’t written about work in years, so I think I’m safe.

Mark: If you don’t mind my asking, what’s your writing process like? Every time I sit down and try to get started on “my book,” I get seduced by something else, like peanut butter crackers, or the immediate gratification of a blog entry. Am I remembering correctly that you spent some time sitting nude behind a typewriter in a yurt?

Jeff: I have a problem with distractions, as well. The internet can suck the life out of a day. For some reason I don’t have much trouble writing Surf Report updates at home, with the stereo blasting and all that, but had to completely leave the house when I was writing the book. Or else I’d piss away two-thirds of the day bouncing between the same ten websites for hours on end.

A big part of the novel was indeed written inside yurts. I recommend it. Several times I rented one in a state park not far from our house, for three days in a row, and knocked out a ton of work in a short period of time. The key is to go during the week, while school is in session. It only costs $33 per day during those parts of the year, and the campground is almost completely empty. Plus, there’s no internet out there. There’s literally no downside to it.

I’ve never been nude inside a yurt, but the night is young.

I also did a lot of writing in a public library near our house, and logged dozens of hours in Panera Bread. Panera isn’t ideal, but it’ll work in a pinch. Plus they have great coffee and sandwiches.

The fact that I wasn’t able to work at home caused the writing of the book to drag out. I need to address that problem, somehow. But that was the process: yurts, libraries, and chain restaurants.

Mark: Yeah, I can’t recall who the author was, but I remember that some famous American author had said that he had himself locked in an empty room each day, nude, and with nothing but pen and paper. I want to say that it was someone like Poe or Hawthorne, but I’m not sure. As far as your process goes, did you have a story arc in mind when you started? Did you have a pretty clear idea as to the journey you wanted Jovis to go on? Or, did you just start kicking out scenes and then worry about pasting them together into some kind of narrative later? Also, I’m curious to know if you had the characters pretty firmly worked out before you started writing, or if they took shape over time, as you brought them into scenes and had them interact.

Jeff: I wrote character biographies in advance, so I knew a little about each of them. A few evolved slightly during the writing process, because I got better ideas as I went along. But I tried to nail down each character in my mind before I started, and had their personal histories written in a notebook so I didn’t get into trouble with continuity and that sort of thing.

I worked with a rolling outline, if you know what I mean. I always had it plotted for the next three chapters, but didn’t know exactly what would happen beyond that. I’m no Cormac McCarthy, and don’t think too many readers are going to find the secrets of the universe in Crossroads Road. But I wanted it to be tightly plotted, and fun to read. So, I spent some time working on the story, and there’s not too much meandering in there. Things happen quickly and logically, I think, and there’s some suspense.

I did have trouble with the ending, though. Every reader of the first draft hated the original ending, and my agent said it needed work, as well. And they were right. It was like National Lampoon’s Vacation, but with some artsy, ambiguous final scene. It was ludicrous. It finally came together in the third draft, and I like the ending now. It’s simple, not ambiguous at all, and hopefully funny. But I had to bash my head against the wall for several months to get there.

Mark: You mention that you also had to hack the hell out of it, cutting away a lot of stuff in order to get it down to a manageable size. Were there things that really hurt to cut? And how contentious was it… Did you fight with your agent over anything, or did you pretty much just accept all the advice that was given to you?

Jeff: Yeah, I basically re-wrote the last quarter of the book. Not a revision, but a complete re-write. And that was because of the feedback I received, and the way I felt about it personally. The agent provided reader’s notes, with suggestions on how to make the book stronger. I tried to address everything he identified, because it all seemed fairly reasonable. But I did get some off-the-wall recommendations from other readers, which I promptly ignored. It never got contentious, because it was always my decision on how to proceed. And nobody tried to insist on turning it into a Lifetime movie script, or anything like that.

Mark: If it ever were adapted for the screen, who would you like to see play Jovis and Sunshine? Are there actors that you envisioned when you were working out scenes in your head?

Jeff: I’m not sure about Jovis, but I think Kathy Bates would be a great Sunshine.

Mark: So, I think you mentioned changing agents. Did that happen in the middle of all of this, and was it related?

Jeff: I was signed by one of several agents working at an agency in New York, and he was great. I could call him for advice, or he’d just check in with me every couple of weeks. We had a solid relationship. He was the one who warned me that comic fiction by a newcomer is a tough sell, but advised me to go where my heart tells me. So, I worked with him on the first few chapters of the book, and it was going well. Then he called one day and told me he was leaving the company. It was never the same after that. I was assigned a new agent, she left too, and then I was shuffled to a third one. By that point I was not a priority and could barely get anyone to return my calls. I was a hand-me-down, twice removed. I decided to stick around until something happened with the novel, and when that didn’t pan out, I asked to be released from the agreement.

I’m now with someone new, and it’s a thousand times better. She has a great sense of humor, is supporting my self-publishing endeavors, and has enthusiasm for my work. That last part was missing from the previous situation, and it’s kind of important. Ya know? We’re getting ready to start on the autobiographical project, and I feel privileged to have her on my side.

Mark: How’d you find her?

And then one question after that….

How has having the blog either helped or hindered your work?

Jeff: She contacted me after reading something I’d written, possibly the Alli side effects article, and asked if I had representation. That’s the only time something like that has happened, and I hated to turn her away. But I was still in the process of writing the book, and had decided to stay the course with the original agency. After that went down the crapper, I emailed her and asked if she was still interested in talking with me. We had a long conversation on the phone, and she eventually took me on as a client.

The Surf Report has made me a better writer, because it requires me to write most days of the week. I’ve undoubtedly strung together millions of words for that website during the ten years it’s been online. All that practice pays off. Plus, I’ve met lots of great people, had interesting opportunities and experiences, and laughed my big ass off. It’s been nothing but positive.

Take the book, for instance. If I’d tried to write it before the website, I would have lacked discipline and the skills I’ve learned by cranking out all those Surf Report updates. I wouldn’t have an audience, or a platform as they call it, and no literary agent would have given me the time of day. So, I’m fairly confident that the book would have never happened, if not for the website. Heck, you knew me back then. Do you think I could have written a novel? I was so distracted and crazed, I could barely READ a novel.

Mark: Yeah, our early endeavors writing together weren’t terribly productive as I recall. They were fun, though, and I think the stuff we sketched out for Billy White Eggs might still be worth pursuing… I don’t know know that I’d say the same of our sitcom idea (The Dukes of Clairmont), though. (Although, I do think the crease-cleaning monkey, if cast correctly, could have a show of his own.) One day I want to go back and watch those video tapes we made.

Speaking of the original Surf Report, I can’t remember if you agreed to put out another issue as part of the Atomic Books Revenge of Print campaign. Did you?

Jeff: I haven’t committed to Revenge of Print, but I want to do it. I think it would be fun, and it’s exciting to see all the old zinesters in action again. I’m hesitating in putting my name on the list, because I’m afraid it’ll feel like one more obligation hanging over my head. But I intend to publish a new issue of the Surf Report zine in 2011.

And yeah, we had an agent asking for a book proposal from us, and we couldn’t get the thing completed. Just a proposal. But we walked up and down the sidewalk in front of NBC wearing sandwich boards covered with insulting statements. And we drank a lot of beer. I think our priorities might have been a bit out of whack.

I’d forgotten about the crease-cleaning monkey. He was a monkey trained to clean the fat folds of a bedridden obese man, if I recall correctly. A service animal. He ran around the apartment with a sponge on a stick, right? I still like it!

And I remember us brainstorming ideas for TV shows we could create, and one of us said, “How about this… A show very much like Party of Five, except it takes place in a slaughterhouse.”

Mark: Yup, those were the days. Thanks for the interview. I can’t wait to read the book. I’m ordering it tonight… Good luck with it.

Those of you who are interested can purchase Crossroads Road electronically today through the Amazon Kindle store, or the Barnes and Noble Nook page. Hard copies should be available soon through Amazon.

MARK: Can you tell us about the Revenge of Print campaign and why you started it?

BENN: The Revenge of Print is an attempt to encourage/give an excuse to current/former/potential zinester to do one more issue.

The campaign is in response to the seemingly constant “Print Is Dead” mantra that we hear seemingly echoed everywhere.

It’s based on the principle that print is only dead if you want it to be. I started thinking about how awesome it would be if everyone who ever made or wanted to make a zine, mini-comic, comic, etc. made at least one more issue this year.

Then I noticed this sort of “Where are they now” section in Xerography Debt where they talk to former zinesters and ask them if they’d ever do another issue. And the responses were fairly uniform in that most said would if the time was right, or there was a reason or something. Like these wayward zinesters were sort of missing making zines and were looking for an excuse to make another issue – to get back into it.

So I figured, what the hell. Let’s put out a challenge and see what happens.

I also figured that it would be fun to use the medium frequently blamed for the supposed “death of print” – the internet – to organize, promote and broadcast the campaign.

And I asked Quimby’s, Xerography Debt, etc. if they thought it was a good idea and would like to help out and they were very into it. Then Zineworld, Razorcake, etc. all came on board to help spread the word.

Initially I was hoping to get maybe 20/30 people to sign on. At 175+ and counting – I have to say I’m pretty stunned by the response.

MARK: Have you prepared yourself for the eventuality that everything that we retired zinesters from the 90′s produce is absolutely horrible? I hope that’s not the case, and that we can, despite our advanced ages, still find interesting things to say, but it’s possible that our best work is behind us, isn’t it?

BENN: I don’t think of the Revenge of Print as a “let’s get the band back together, it’ll be awesome, let’s relive the golden days” sort of nostalgia kick. A lot of what was produced in the ’90s was absolutely horrible too. But, the point is, it was produced. There was a vibrant zine culture. Today, as much isn’t produced. At least not in print.

I’ve always thought of zines and zine-making as a conversation. And the more voices involved, the more interesting, the more dynamic the conversation.

It’s true some folks might not have as much to say. But in that case, they’ve had years to think about and suss stuff out. Surely 1 issue wouldn’t be too taxing or depleting for most. Also, many zinesters are older. Ideally, they’re wiser too. Or perhaps crazier. I’m curious to see what kind of perspective the years have given folks.

But also, this isn’t just about zinesters from 2 decades ago (although I’m hoping a lot of them will feel compelled to make another issue). The Revenge of Print, I hope, will also be a call for people who have always wanted to make a zine to finally make one, and also, for those who are somewhat more erratic in their publishing schedules to commit to turning out a zine this year. And, of course, for those who are doing zines anyway to commit to another year.

And for those participating – the best case scenario I think is they’ll realize they still have stuff to say – they still want to make zines and keep going. The worst case scenario – well, maybe some folks will get a sense of closure. A lot of zines just kind of evaporated instead of ended.

I’m hoping people will realize they still have stuff to say that’s worth being photocopied, collated, stapled and media mailed and not simply click “post”-ed.

MARK: You’ve got a lot of great zines already on the list, but I’m wondering if there are others that you might still be hoping to recruit. I’d love, for instance, to see another issue of Doug Holland’s Pathetic Life or Amy Fusselman’s Bunny Rabbit. Are there favorites of yours that you’d still like to get onboard?

BENN: I’m already overwhelmed by the amount of favorites that have signed on, but some that I fantasize about getting involved are: Bunnyhop, Ben Is Dead, Crank, Answer Me, Murder Can Be Fun, Thriftscore, Beeframe, Chunklet, Motorbooty, West Virginia Surf Report, Tight Pants, Rollerderby, Peko Peko, 8-Track Mind, Modern Drunkard, babysue, Bamboo Girl, Dishwasher, Monozine, Farm Pulp, Flatter!, Fancy, Holy Titclamps, Temp Slave, Hermenaut, The Imp, Guinea Pig Zero… there are so many zines I’d love, LOVE to see another issue of.

So who knows. Maybe a few of those people will hear about The Revenge of Print and feel like kicking in an issue. And if not, well, if those who have signed on all deliver – there’s going to be so much to read this year, it’s going to be awesome.

MARK: Weird you should mention him – I just talked with Jeff from the West Virginia Surf Report and I think he’s up for it. And I bet I can get Hischak (Farm Pulp) and Russ (8-Track Mind) onboard through a combination of flattery and intimidation. Let me make a few calls. I might be able to make a few more of your dreams come true.

For what it’s worth, I really appreciate the fact that you’ve lit a fire under our asses. It’ll likely be a costly and aggravating experience that will put many relationships in jeopardy, but it’s something that I need to do. I’m just hoping that my contribution doesn’t turn out to be a diatribe about the fuckers at Desert Moon who ran off with all of our money, or, worse yet, a pathetic treatise on growing old and fat.

I know it might not conform to everyone’s design specs, but it would be cool if each of us would somehow include mention of the Revenge of Print campaign in some way and perhaps point back to an online list of all the other zines that have participated, with information on how to acquire copies, etc.

BENN: Hopefully, retired zinesters’ relationships are established enough they can withstand a new issue. I mean, it’s not like buying an antique car and reworking it or joining a civil war re-enactment troop. Well, I guess it kind of is like that. Ha!

As for topics – in a way – Desert Moon diatribes and old age treatises might be hilarious.

Maybe that can be a theme for 2012: Old Age Crackpottery.

I like the idea of including a mention of Revenge of Print in zines (I think somone did a barcode thing) and listing all the participants. But I was concerned if I suggested people put a Revenge of Print logo on their zine, there would be blowback/pushback on that. And I’m not sure how to list all the participants as just keeping up those pledging is difficult enough. I’m totally open to any suggestions.

We’ve also been invited to setting up an installation/display at the Baltimore Book Festival for this – but I’m not even sure how to go about. I guess I could just put out a call for folks to send a copy of their zine or something?

MARK: I just checked and, if this is the same Baltimore Book Festival that you’re talking about, it doesn’t happen until September 23. That’s not a bad target date to urge people toward. I don’t want to put more responsibility on your shoulders, but it might not be a bad time to host a little zine reunion at Atomic Books. (Can we sleep in the aisles?) As for how to get people to include mention of the “Revenge of Print” campaign, I think you just need to make the logos available to people who want to use them. Some will, and some won’t. I suspect, however, that most would like the idea, as it could increase the possibility that their zine would be seen.

And that’s kind of where communications stopped last nigth… Judging from the Atomic Books blog, though, it looks as though he got my last email… More to follow… Now, go cancel your cable. THe world is about to get more interesting.

In the early 90′s, I was living in Atlanta and managing a Kinko’s. I don’t talk about it often, as it wasn’t a great time in my life. Linette and I started our magazine, Crimewave USA, and got to know some incredible folk artists, but, other than that, our lives were pretty empty. We lived in a suburb devoid of any culture what-so-ever, and worked our asses off. At any rate, I mention it because one day, on my way between Kinko’s and our apartment complex, which was at the intersection of 75 and Windy Hill, I decided to take a walk and pulled over at a little wooded area. I might be remembering incorrectly, but I think it was Sope Creek Park, as I liked to hike around the ruins of the old paper mill there. Anyway, as I pulled into the small parking lot, I noted a big, white sedan with two “Newt” bumper stickers. I didn’t think much of it, though. Then, as I got out of my car, and headed into the woods, I saw his swollen, red face coming toward me, up the trail. He was accompanied by a younger woman. We passed within inches of one another. I nodded, and mumbled, “hello.” He, as I recall, did the same. My first thought, after cursing myself for not having brought my camera, was that he was having an affair. As it was a weird time of day, and as they were dressed in business clothes, I didn’t see as how it could be anything else. Actually, I suppose he could have just been walking around for exercise, and maybe talking strategy with this woman, but that’s not the vibe that I got at the time.

As it was probably around 1994 or ’95, it’s likely that the person accompanying Newt was Callista Bisek, the women he would later leave his second wife for… Incidentally, he left his second wife, Marianne, who was suffering from Multiple Sclerosis at the time, saying the following: “It doesn’t matter what I do. People need to hear what I have to say. There’s no one else who can say what I say. It doesn’t matter what I live.” Oh, and he was cheating with Bisek the whole time that he was trying to have Clinton impeached for receiving a blowjob.

It’s weird to think about it, but had I been a few minutes earlier, and had my camera, it’s possible that I could have brought Newt Gingrich down that afternoon, possibly changing the course of history.

Oh, and if you haven’t heard, Newt says he plans to run for President in 2012.

A few other things… If the photo of me standing in front of the local strip club with a sign saying “DeNiro” doesn’t make sense, just click here for the context. Also, it should be noted that the image above could not have happened without the hard work of Naia Venturi, who made Puppet Mark, and Misha Grey, who worked his little arms and legs during the photo shoot.

A special thanks to my friend Suzanne for bringing this to my attention… and kind of making me feel like a loser schmuck in the process. And, no, I don’t blame her for that. I’m glad that she told me. It’s good to know that our work is missed among those few who still remain dedicated to the alternative press. I just don’t like being reminded of the fact that we’re no longer really producing anything of cultural value. And then there’s the guilt. I hate that there are people out there, counting on us to produce more issues.

With all of that said, however, I should probably mention that Crimewave isn’t actually, technically dead. (I guess you could say, it’s more like Terri Schiavo than, say, the Wicked Witch of the East at this point.) Sure, it’s been a few years since we put an issue out, but Linette and I haven’t pulled the plug yet. Yes, we let the website go. But we’re not calling the magazine quits just yet. We may still have an issue or two left in us.

And, if you want to point fingers, and blame someone for fact that there hasn’t been a new issue in the last few years, blame Desert Moon Distribution, or the fact that people don’t always have the same level of energy that they had in their 20′s.

[Tonight's post is dedicated to the brilliant, heroic, devastatingly funny Roger Ebert, whom I've wanted to interview for years, but have never had the opportunity. (I did get to talk with Russ Meyer about him, though, which was fun.) I've wanted to interview Roger since about 1996, when I met an old man at an alternative press gathering in California who showed me a copy of a fanzine from the late 50's that he claimed was penned by a young Ebert. I believe the name of the zine was "Stymie," but it could have been "Stump." I glanced at it briefly, as the fellow told me about how Ebert would send him copies from his parent's basement in Illinois, when he was a kid. (The zine, as I recall, consisted mostly of sci-fi reviews.) Anyway, I just always wanted to talk with Roger about his time spent in his parents' basement, reaching out to other like-minded people in the early days of zines. I know it probably pales next to his more recent, adult accomplishments, but I think it's somehow very important.]

I interviewed him a few years ago for an issue of Crimewave. If I can find a copy, I’ll scan it and post it sometime between now and the show, in hopes that it might convince one or two of you to buy a ticket. I don’t think it was one of my best interviews, but, as I suspect some of you might know after having seen the documentary, Daniel’s not always an easy guy to communicate with. He’s a brilliant guy, though, and he’s written some of the most incredible songs of our generation.