All hail guerilla lit

So a few months ago a couple of guys named Nick and Zach asked me to write a 125-word short story that would, they said, be printed on 3'x3' stickers and pasted randomly around New York. I would be paid in copies. That would be pasted randomly around New York. Needless to say, I got right on it.

The 'zine, if you could even call it that, is named, horribly, Perineum, and the packet of short-short stickers I received arrived with an even more horrible line drawing of...uh...something. Something...postnatal. I think. It's hard to tell--it's kind of like a limited-edition goatse (NSFW) as drawn by Jim Woodring. In any event, disgusting or not, this is a very cool project, rendered all the more cool for having no apparent internet presence, no contact info, and no way of even telling who wrote the stories.

So in case you see the piece above stuck to the floor at Duane Reade, or wrapped around a suspension cable on the Manhattan Bridge, or affixed to the mayor's forehead, or pasted over Norman Mailer's face on the inside back flap of an ex-libris copy of Barbary Shore at the Strand, you can thank me, and the other eight writers who participated in this project. And Nick and Zach, of course.

At a time when you can download books while sitting in the bathtub, it's nice that somebody is providing the kind of literature you need to go tramping around the city to find. Here's to the inaccessible, confusing, obscure, and slightly revolting!