The Drill Press

publishers aiming to get in your head: We publish books in paperback and and also as e-books, though we have not yet decided on an e-book format other than pdf. Our approach is through print on demand, given that the 19th century model for publishing houses printing books on paper pimped by semiliterate agents with their heads up their asses is antiquated and doomed. We seek writers who understand the process of writing, conscious of their words and sentences and paragraphs and why they should come together in a given form. Literate and literary writers outside the norm of genre-slavish zombies to a moribund culture. We eschew the whores who don't have any idea of literary history or literary roots, without past or experience or new viewpoint. If one must flop on one's back to open one's legs, at least do it with some integrity, ingenuity, experimental fervor and sense of adventure. Try something new. Otherwise we aren't interested in your stuff. NO GENRE. (Note: we respect prostitutes who serve with integrity and distinction, whether it be writing or just plain old sex.); We intend our catalog to grow as books are published and remain in print. We're looking for original work that transcends the bounds of 19th century standards set by the major houses and will only publish when we find writing that meets our standards.; Our books will be available from online retailers like Amazon and Barnes and Noble, and our ebooks will remain available at ebookmall.com. They might be also be available at some independent bookstores and they can be ordered by booksellers from Ingram.; Meanwhile, we are reading other interesting work. Since we have several books in the pipeline now, we are closed until early next year. However, we will continue to actively seek submissions that are not crassly commerical bilge. Work with a purpose beyond the counterfeit notion of unengaged entertainment best served by the dual tediums television and film which have converged to the point they are largely interchangeable. We suggest reading the few paragraphs under submissions regarding books.

Now available:: Acting Alone by Tom Bradley; "The contemporaries of Michelangelo found it useful to employ the term terribilita to characterize some of the expressions of his genius, and I will quote it here to sum up the shocking impact of this work as a whole. I read it in a state of fascination, admiration, awe, anxiety, and outrage."; —R.V. Cassill, editor of The Norton Anthology of Fiction; Go directly to The Drill Press Catalog; available from Amazon.com or from Barnes and Noble.com

A Broca Literária: Saudanções, internauta.; A partir de novembro, a Drill Press concede espaço para autores e leitores da lingua portuguesa com sua nova revista digital "A Broca Literária". Serão quatro trabalhos de prosa expostos mensalmente seguindo linhas similares às adotadas pela editora em suas outras revistas. Publicaremos crônicas, artigos, estórias curtas, romances de ficção e não-ficção, tudo em lingua portuguesa. Queremos textos originais, criativos, que instiguem a reflexão no leitor, que lhe agucem o espírito crítico sem comprometer-lhe a doçura e a expontaneidade, que matem sua sede de arte, talento e verdade.; Produções óbvias como tantas que transbordam na rede escondendo trabalhos valiosos são dispensáveis para nós, mesmo que bem apresentadas. Nossos lemas são criatividade, originalidade, qualidade e ousadia. A "Broca" não teme novidades. Não ostenta barreiras quanto à temática apresentada. O importante é que se respeite essas quatro prerrogativas.; Você, leitor e autor da língua portuguesa, agora tem um espaço só seu.; Para saber mais sobre a proposta da Broca ou sobre como ser um de nossos autores, acesse a revista.; A Broca Literária

We're new, we're vicious and we're hungry.: We seek a few good readers. Terrestrial intelligences seeking pleasure in engaging the brain, eschewing the standard television-aping pap presented by the major houses as literature. Readers relishing the English language, prose that realizes its potential, and tales that exploit the marvels of reality wherever it is found.; We seek a few good writers. Authors renouncing cliché with tales outside the mainstream, explicit in setting and detail to transport the reader, trusting rather than bludgeoning the reader. Creators of convincing creatures in unique settings.; You can eat off our prose.

Manifesto In Five Easy Movements: This work simultaneously appeared on the computers of our three founding editors as they made plans to start this publishing house. Investigation revealed slight variations in text which over time merged into this version; under the properties were three different comments, though the title and author were as given. One comment stated CHANCE: Computer enHANced, another CHANCE: Computer Hosted AlieN intelligenCE. In the third a longer description: A work by silicon life forms created by information and inhabiting the web. Later one of us got an email with no address simply stating Collective intelligence from bits to words.; Click To Read the Full Manifesto

The Big Stupid Review
Operation Scumbag: By Thor Garcia; I met up with the two cops at the Bun Boy Burrito stand, at the corner of Ramplegate and Sturgeon. It was Thursday, about 10:50 p.m. Wodgers and Banting were attached to the Street Narcotics Enforcement Unit (SNEU). The idea was to go around with them as they made their nightly drug busts. Sernath had personally assigned it, calling it a "big chance" for me. It had taken a couple weeks to set up through the police Public Relations Office, and I had been forced to wait three more weeks while they did a fresh background check. According to a waiver I signed, revealing any "Classified Police Information" I might learn during the excursion could result in my prosecution. I was supposed to write it up as a human interest feature, focusing on the "human side" of the War Against Drugs. My first full byline piece. more...
Take-Out Dick: By Holly Day; She wasn't nearly so happy when, after a hard day at work, she'd come home to find the dick tucked away in the box that was supposed to hold her crispy duck. It had been so artfully packed in the box that she stood there for almost a whole ten seconds, staring at the folded-up limp penis nestled inside the Chinese takeout box, pubic hairs curled artfully against the surprisingly clean shaft and balls, whatever blood that hadn't been drained before packing neatly absorbed by the extra pat of white rice lining the bottom of the box. more...
Patience: By Ward Webb; "You're going to keep on and on like that until you get us in trouble. I told you thirty minutes ago you have to be stop bellowing or they'll call the cops on us. You're being an asshole. Stop it. Don't get us throw out of line. We've waited too long, just like you said." more...
The Moon Hides Behind a Cloud: By Barrie Darke; The fight usually began halfway along the walk. It was like they took it in turns to be unhappy with the way people in the joint had been spoken to or looked at or maybe even thought about.Sometimes it was even less of a thing than that – once daddy had kicked a pebble into the field and his mom hadn't liked that one bit. It would get down to the way the wind blew, the angle of a branch leaning into the road, one day. There might be a shove, a kicked hip as they walked, but the real commotion could wait till they were indoors. Warwick trudged upstairs. The cows in the barn must've heard the yells, the grunts, the metallic cracks and whangs, and accepted them as part of the world that never changed: trees and distant hills rather than sleet and fallen leaves. more...
The Golden Limo of Slipback City: By Ken Valenti; That fucker with the baseball bat whacks you in the gut while you sleep, and he's gone before you can open your eyes. That's how you know you're back. more...
Studies in Mathematical Pornography: American Dream Chapter 9: By Jim Chaffee; Dina lifted her crop top and let peek from below a pair of gnarly brown splotches surrounding nipples like amputated pinkies.; "You like these?"; I blurted "No." more...

Journal Of Precognitive Memories
Rick Perry leads Baal worshippers in prayer meeting: By Pig Bodine M.Sc., Ph.D., BM2, BEM, MAD, MDMA. I was amazed that thirty thousand people showed up for Rick Perry's prayer session to Baal in Houston. Though he didn't pack Reliant Stadium, I didn't realize there were so many Baal worshippers in Texas. more...
A Film Too Far: The Battle of the Strait of Hormuz: By Jim Chaffee. Finally Hollywood has made the definitive war epoch of our time. A film that puts into proper perspective the US role as a military superpower in the late 20th century. More, it presages the US mission as peacekeeper and maintainer of order in the 21st century. We refer to the heroic actions of the US Navy in the Persian Gulf, in the Strait of Hormuz, on 3 July 1988. The film is entitled The Battle of Hormuz Strait. It recounts a heroic encounter between the forces of good and evil that too many Americans have forgotten or never learned. more...
Maurice Stoker quasireviews The Vicious Circulation of Dr. Catastrophe: A Polemical Ensemble by Kane X. Faucher: By Maurice Stoker. Once again I am torn from my fairyland of gleet to review for the loutish Drill Press. On this occassion none other than Pig Bodine himself, wearing U. S. Navy enlisted dress blues (gabardine, not the issue thick wool cracker jack outfit) with insignia of BM2 and tar flap collar adorned with the doctoral regalia colors of his economics PhD lined in the glorious hues of his third rate university (or maybe just some afterthought from hell), an SP armband affixed to his right upper arm. How this lunatic escaped his asylum is anyone's guess, but he shows up and pulls me from the gloryhole in the Yokosuka O Club after whacking with his billy club a couple ithyphallic knot-hole protrusions, lovely boles both, to which I was in alternate attendence. Unceremoniously handcuffed, no less, and instead of a brutal sexual assault locked into a hotel room with a book (The Vicious Circulation of Dr. Catastrophe: A Polemical Ensemble by one Kane X. Faucher), a pad of cheap yellow paper and a handful of ecru wooden number two pencils with blunt writing leads. more...
Maurice Stoker on Tom Bradley's Even the Dog Won't Touch Me: By Maurice Stoker. I'm leading a tour of fellow literary professionals. Writers, editors, publishers, and agents. Lots of agents. A tour for a clutch of charities. A service tour of the glory holes of Europe. Western Europe. We do the US and Canada later in the year.; It seems that with Cheney and Bush Jr. having memoirs surreptitiously penned and to be published in the near future, they are both going to be with us on the US leg. I can't wait to see the Secret Service agents on their knees beside the former President and his Vice chowing down on anonymous wiener dogs protruding from holes in stark bathroom walls. Although I have been informed that SS will require all anonymous participants submit to short arm inspection and penile toivel, probably laving away the tasty smegma from around those few remaining lovely foreskins. more...
Keith Olbermann Freaks the Shit Out of Pig Bodine: By Pig Bodine. The cure consists of guided sessions induced with specific herbal infusions of a variety of plants tailored to individual needs but based on Banisteriopis caapi, Banisteriopis rusbyana, Psychotria viridis and a buttload of other alkaloid-rich jungle herbs. In extreme cases, a Yanomami specialist is on hand to apply virola snuff, but that is an almost-last-resort measure (though I confess it was necessary with me). If that is not sufficient to effect a cure, one is sent to an even more remote location for treatment with a Jívaro shaman, more individualistic in approach than the kinder, gentler healers at the resort. The Jívaro are Platonic in their world view, forcing one to confront reality and leave behind the lie of the ordinary world formed from cultural bullshit that leads to the modern epidemic of psychic maladies (perhaps the worst such epidemic since the middle ages, at least according to the WHO). more...

Spooky Action At A Distance
Les Apaches de la bibliothèque infinie: The Infinite Library by Kane X. Faucher: By Jim Chaffee. Imagine you've fallen in with bookish thugs. Hooligans of the word printed on paper. Canadian dealer in antique books Alberto Gimaldi finds himself in precisely this situation when he hires on with a collector named Castellemare who turns out to be a criminal master-librarian. Castellemare's vicious henchman Angelo first trains Gimaldi in the subtle art of retrieving escaped books only to later hunt him down to repossess books with which Gimaldi has absconded. The library from which books escape to the hands of selected readers, as did those with which Gimaldi made off, is the infinite library over which Catellemare ostensibly presides. Along the way, Gimaldi matches wits with Anton Setzer, former hireling of Castellmare, used bookstore owner and inventor-operator of an infernal device attached to the infinite library via a labyrinth. The device appends newly unwritten books to the library, a mind-boggling task given that the library holds everything written, actually or potentially, analogous to the sort of apparent paradox (only apparent) that haunts infinity in mathematical art. more...
Pseudo-scientists, Pseudo-Shamans, and Mass Delusion: Contemporary US Culture: By Jim Chaffee. Reality is that contemporary US society is afflicted with mass delusion. A goodly bit of it is illustrated by the above statements: ceremonial certification in lieu of active education whereby verbiage for verbiage sake passes for accomplishment. As an example of active education the author challenges the reader to give an argument that the square root of two is not a fraction (and for those who are not educated, a fraction can be taken as the ratio of two non-negative integers, assumed without common divisors, and a square root of a number is another number which when multiplied by itself equals said number). This is a simple exercise, but it does require two important items missing from both statements quoted above: operational definition and reasoning. Without them, words are wasted except for emotive purposes. more...
Review of Tom Bradley's Hemorrhaging Slave Of An Obese Eunuch: By Dave Migman. "Fricasseed Filipina" unravelled before me. A tantalising char-grilled ghost danced through Hiroshima Cathedral’s parking lot. Pages flipped of their own accord. Feline mouths with peyote button teeth appeared in sequences of six and nine, each according its own tantric sequence in the text. more...
Fear of Merging: A Christmas Tale: By Jim Chaffee. I suppose a more apposite memory would be the six or seven inch, finger-thick, brown ascaris wriggling from the anus of a young Marine. Extend the memory to a vision from the Pink Eiga of Japanese film directed by someone like Mitsuru Meike with perhaps the lovely Rinako Hirasawa sucking the worm from the young man's butt-hole more...
Night of the Living Dead: The Party of Palin: By Jim Chaffee. Ever wonder why the scariest caricature of the living dead is a smiling Dick Cheney? Believe me, that is more than a freakish coincidence of genetics. more...
Notes From a Season at the Center of the Universe: Cecil Taylor at the Take 3: By Robert Levin. In late 1962, Cecil lands a three-month, four-night-a-week gig at The Take 3, a coffee house on Bleecker Street. It's right next door to The Bitter End where Woody Allen had performed just weeks before. (Allen was second on the bill and I'd thrown him a quick couple of lines in the Village Voice column—something about how this new comic exploited his appearance to good advantage.) more...
Meaning and Almostness: By Jim Chaffee. Essence and existence. For certain believers in God and such, essence precedes existence. For some unbelievers, most famously Jean-Paul Sartre or Simone de Beauvoir, the statement is reversed. Neither of these notions is anything more than a repetition of the point they are attempting to drive home, however, and as far as existential dilemmas go, the God-no God question is at best meaningless and really a yawner. Besides which all the arguments end in begging.; Consider instead a chilling ontological-epistemological cocktail with the potential for profound existential hangover. more...
Kalari Payat: By Gitanjali Kolanad. The young lithe bodies with long muscles under dark skin glistening with oil and sweat crouch and kick and leap, taking inspiration from the movement of elephant, lion, horse, snake. The actions are low to the ground, curving, punctuated by sudden high twirling jumps, just like the Malayalam script, all curves interrupted only rarely by a straight line. more...
Ethnic Narcissism and Infertility in Japan: By Tom Bradley. I teach conversational skills to freshman dentistry majors in the Japanese "imperial university" where they used to vivisect our bomber pilots and serve their livers raw at festive banquets.; Ever since I first reluctantly mounted the bamboo podium, back in the days when this was the richest country in the world, my campus has been under occupation by platoons of boys who call themselves "cheerleaders." Seeming to grow like bunions out of the karate and judo teams, they’re too bristly to get laid, so they scream and march a lot, and flail their arms around. They’re seminarians of a sort, practicing to be full-blown Hirohito worshipers like those I saw officiating at the Feast of the Transfiguration in A-Bomb Park. more...
Noise in the Machine: The Homogeneous Chaos Blues: By Jim Chaffee. Gilbert Ryle nailed Cartesian dualism by killing the ghost in the machine. Now someone named Carl Zimmer wants to use noise in the machine to kill a straw man standing in for genetic determinism. This mushy-headed blather arises as an attempt to simulate science-talk to people inured to comic book encapsulation of the most complex ideas. Who knows what the author intended to convey, or why, but the premise demands deconstruction like Lon Cheney Junior demanded a dew claw. more...
Breakable Bayonets, Made in China: By Tom Bradley. Try to get a typical Red Chinese lumpen-prole to sit down with you and share a few minutes of pleasantly goose-bumped thermonuclear war paranoia. He’ll first look puzzled, then think about it for half a second. And then he’ll say there are so many of his people around that lots of them are bound to survive even the biggest holocaust Bush can provoke. So, there’s no need to fret. And his lack of a silly grin when he says this cannot be ascribed to the legendary inscrutability of the yellow face. He’s not joking. more...
Sunny Tells Me a Story: By Robert Levin. We're in my living room, taking a break on the second day of an interview I'm doing with him for Jazz & Pop—and smoking the amazing bush he's always holding—when Sunny says, "Bobby, I never told you this, but for a while there were people trying to kill me." more...
Free Jazz: The Jazz Revolution of the '60s: By Robert Levin. Four musicians (a saxophonist, trumpeter, bassist and drummer) abruptly began to play - with an apoplectic intensity and at a bone-rattling volume - four simultaneous solos that had no perceptible shared references or point of departure. Even unto themselves the solos, to the extent that they could be isolated as such in the density of sound that was being produced, were without any fixed melodic or rhythmic structure. Consisting, by turns, of short, jagged bursts and long meandering lines unmindful of bar divisions and chorus measures they were, moreover, laced with squeaks, squeals, bleats and strident honks. A number ended and another began - or was it the same one again? How were you to tell? No. No way this madness could possibly have a method. more...