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*Photo by Stephanie Bassos, Chicago-based photographer.

Franki Elliot is a 20-something author from Chicago and blogs for us every Monday.  Curbside published her first book Piano Rats (October 2011). We are publishing her second book in late spring 2013.  This week Franki is typewriter-less.  For more Franki typewriter stories visit http://frankielliottypewriter.tumblr.com/

This is part V of an eight part series by Portland author Aaron Gilbreath consisting of his interviews with members of Portland's homeless population.  Stay tuned for Part VI next week.  See Part IV here.

Aaron Gilbreath is a burrito-obsessed essayist, journalist, and housesitter. He resides in Portland and his work can be found all over the place.  Click here to learn more about him. 

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Introduction

Like all interesting people and places, Portland, Oregon is a multifaceted character. There is Portland the socially progressive utopia of artists, food carts and environmentally conscious urbanism. And there is the Portland of pretension, heroin addiction, racial separation and rampant homelessness. The city occupies a county that has over 15,000 homeless people. That figure includes not only people who sleep on the street and in shelters, but those who sleep on friends’ couches and in cars and in transitional housing. In 2009, Oregon ranked first in the nation for homelessness per capita.

Those of us who have lived here long enough to have watched the city change from a sleepy little low-rent secret to a globally hyped mecca of gastronomy and marketable eccentricity know that no matter how empathetic your constitution, the sheer scale of homelessness here means that you can easily became immune to the presence of it. Two soiled feet sticking out from under a blanket, a body curled in a doorway atop cardboard slabs – to Portlanders, these sights can become as unexceptional as a sign at a coffee shop advertising gluten-free muffins. I don’t like growing accustomed to human suffering. Empathy should never grow callouses. Yet overly accustomed is what I’d become. Here I was, surrounded by the homeless, yet I knew close to nothing about them or their lives. So I spent the summer of 2011 speaking to them on the street.

Luis Humberto Valadez is a writer/poet/educator/musician from Chicago Heights, IL currently serving as a Peace Corps Volunteer in China.  "Out of Context" will be a blog Luis will write for us documenting his experiences in China.  He is the author of two collections of poetry, "what i'm on" (2009, University of Arizona Press) and the book/CD "Valid Lush" (2012, Plumberries Press). His music and poetry can be found at luishv.bandcamp.com. Previous to leaving Chicago, he was Program Director for Chicago HOPES, an organization that provide education and enrichment programming for children living in homeless shelters. Hit him up with thoughts, questions, etc. at luisvaladez8@yahoo.com. He is truly exploring the nature of his being outside of the context he has grown accustomed to. This writing merely reflects his perspective of his experience and does represent that of other Peace Corps Volunteers or Peace Corps as a whole.

Xia wu hao, y'all!

For most of y'all it is late Saturday night, early Sunday morning. I imagine people out on the streets of Chicago, not yet thinking of home as if the difference between now and an hour from now is an entire day. Here it is a liangkuai (nice and cool) Sunday afternoon. My Chengdu host-family is taking xiu xi (rest) post-lunch and my American non-napping ass is writing

Shang xingqi wo qu Neijiang luyou kankan wo yihou gongzuo de daxue. Last week I traveled to Neijiang to see the university where I will be teaching English. Neijiang is a small (by Chinese standards) city of over 4 million in southern Sichuan Province. Once it was known as "Tian Cheng (Sweet City)" because it was the main sugar producer in Sichuan. Nowadays, the city strives to be a shipping hub. The Tuo River runs through the city contributing to its great beauty. Also, it is hot as all hell. The kind of heat that makes standing in Grant Park during Lolapalooza seem easy. Nonetheless, I had a good time on the visit for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was that I got to spend a week away from my fellow trainees who I honestly believe are very nice people in small doses, but whom I just have a hard as hell time trying to relate to (i.e.

Curbside Splendor is pleased to introduce a new anthology about the most intimate topic of the day, our beds, and the way we sleep.

Curbside Splendor Publishing will release The Way We Sleep in December 2012.  For more information please contact Victor David Giron at victor@curbsidesplendor.com or 224-514-6512.  Available for pre-order now directly from the publisher at a discounted price and free shipping here.

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Chicago, IL, September, 2012.  Chicago-based publisher Curbside Splendor announces the release of The Way We Sleep, An Anthology, filled with short stories, interviews, and comics all dealing with the way we sleep.  Curbside is proud to add this entry to its evolving catalog that has received national acclaim.

The work in The Way We Sleep is by some of the leading voices in independent literature today, including J. Adams Oaks, Jeffrey Brown, Roxane Gay, Rick Geary, Billy Lombardo, The Residents, Mary Roach, Matthew Salesses, JA Tyler, David Wain, and Juilie Wertz, among many others.

“We are always striving to create work that is sweeping, yet intimate,” says Victor David Giron, President, Curbside Splendor, “and The Way We Sleep allows us to do that in a way that is not only unique, but draws on writers and illustrators we greatly admire from our hometown of Chicago and beyond.”

The Way We Sleep will be released in a handsome 10 x 10, glossy coffee table style layout, which is sure to delight readers everywhere, particularly those who sleep, and especially those who sleep in beds.

“Beds are the most intimate of places, its where you spend a third of your life,” says C.

This is part IV of an eight part series by Portland author Aaron Gilbreath consisting of his interviews with members of Portland's homeless population.  Stay tuned for Part V next week.  See Part III here.

Aaron Gilbreath is a burrito-obsessed essayist, journalist, and housesitter. He resides in Portland and his work can be found all over the place.  Click here to learn more about him. 

Tweet

Introduction

Like all interesting people and places, Portland, Oregon is a multifaceted character. There is Portland the socially progressive utopia of artists, food carts and environmentally conscious urbanism. And there is the Portland of pretension, heroin addiction, racial separation and rampant homelessness. The city occupies a county that has over 15,000 homeless people. That figure includes not only people who sleep on the street and in shelters, but those who sleep on friends’ couches and in cars and in transitional housing. In 2009, Oregon ranked first in the nation for homelessness per capita.

Those of us who have lived here long enough to have watched the city change from a sleepy little low-rent secret to a globally hyped mecca of gastronomy and marketable eccentricity know that no matter how empathetic your constitution, the sheer scale of homelessness here means that you can easily became immune to the presence of it. Two soiled feet sticking out from under a blanket, a body curled in a doorway atop cardboard slabs – to Portlanders, these sights can become as unexceptional as a sign at a coffee shop advertising gluten-free muffins. I don’t like growing accustomed to human suffering. Empathy should never grow callouses. Yet overly accustomed is what I’d become. Here I was, surrounded by the homeless, yet I knew close to nothing about them or their lives. So I spent the summer of 2011 speaking to them on the street.