Contributor’s Notes
Two weeks ago, Michael Martone read at Tire Fire. He read a story from Michael Martone that made me think that maybe I need to step it up with my author bios.
Jaime Fountaine lives in Philadelphia, where she is often found politely discussing her age and valid state-issued identification with the clerks at the liquor store.
Jaime Fountaine was raised by “Wolves,” which is a nickname her mother gave to herself.
Jaime Fountaine’s alter-ego, Beverly Winthrop, is a middle-aged library aide hailing from Georgia. She is single and lives with her two cats, Muffin and Mr. Bojangles, in a modest condominium with a generous bathtub.
Jaime Fountaine lives in Philadelphia with whichever imaginary fiance is most suited to her current social situation. Favorites include Claude, the French-Canadian crematory operator, and Harry, a high-school shop teacher who reenacts the Civil War on weekends.
Jaime Fountaine was conceived by accident in New Orleans in close proximity, it is believed, to Pat O’Brien’s – home of the Hurricane. She is, to date, one of the least regrettable mistakes either parent has made, which include, but are not limited to: empty promises, subsequent remarriages, lies of omission, and mutual attendance at a UB40 concert.
Fibber
Last October, I was the Fibber at Hillary Rea‘s PHIT show.
Because the best lies are rooted in some truth, here is a story that is mostly true, except that it didn’t happen to me, it happened to my friend Rory, and I made up all the details.
Well, except for “I’m tryna get some Rita’s!” That really happened.
Just to be Nominated
PANK nominated me (well, Len and Ernie and me) for the storySouth Million Writers Award!
Past Me
On Friday night, Hillary Rea held a special Tell Me a Story at the Arden Theater. I told everyone about how, as a child, my favorite game was “consumption.” You know, that game where a four-year-old pretends to die of tuberculosis?
I also found some excellent photos at my grandparents house.
They were not taken on Halloween. I was just eating spaghetti in a witch costume.
Checking In
Remember when it was February and I updated my blog and then March happened and I did, like, a million things, and I forgot all about this, because I was really busy being in the real world doing real person stuff? And now it’s April, and I have more stuff to do, because I have this thing where, right before my birthday, I make a list of things I can’t carry over into the next year?
Yeah? Okay, good.
My Davy Jones Story
About a year ago, after I discovered that Jerry Blavat had been on an episode of the Monkees, I asked if he still talked to Davy Jones. Jerry repeated all of his lines from the episode to me from memory (!!!) then said, “You want me to call him right now? I’ll call him!”
Davy Jones didn’t answer. I was relieved until he called right back. I guess he was screening his calls.
Jerry handed me his Blackberry. Davy Jones’ voice was unmistakable. “Hi, Davy Jones,” I said. “This is surreal.” Then — no joke — he did a Jerry Blavat impression. It was spot-on, give or take the British accent.
Flustered, I said goodbye and handed the phone back, until Jerry asked me to write down Jones’ email address. I memorized it. It was a hotmail account.
On Romance
Yesterday: Jaime Fountaine from Hillary Rea on Vimeo.
You should check out all of the videos from last night’s Tell Me A Story show. It was a real cool time.
Saturday Morning
What I do is wake up too early and drink a pot of coffee and try to write and get bored with myself and think about books I should read and how it’s too early to watch television and how I should eat something but don’t want to make it and crackers can’t be dinner and breakfast and stare past the computer out the window at my roof and everyone else’s and the weather and wonder what I’ll do today. And I’ve done all that already.
I have two Valentine’s Day related shows next week:
On Tuesday the 14th, Second Stories Presents: Dream Date at the Dive, where Alanna Kennedy-Gorman, Alejandro Morales, Lia Brennan, Alex Gross, Hillary Rea, Larry Napolitano, and I will serenade you with stories and hand out Valentines. Expect mood lighting and Russel Stover’s assortments.
Then, on Wednesday, there’s a special Valentine’s edition of Hillary’s excellent Tell Me A Story.
Let’s get romantic.