After reading a recent post about the failed short story writer & moderately unsuccessful documentary filmmaker, Savage H. Puncture, the editors of Get Ye Gone! magazine forwarded the following interview excerpt with the man, which was to be published in their tenth issue, although they had only been able to afford to publish two. Get Ye Gone! magazine is now only available at the editors' commune outside Edmunton, Alberta, & you can't take it out of their library. Not even with a card.
Introduction: Savage H. Puncture of Oxnard, California, smells of diesel & fish. His hands are covered with notes he has written to himself &, on his left thumb, to his ex-wife Marie, who still owes him money. He's a nervous sort who slurps loudly from a giant-sized Big Gulp & who claims to be "scratching his teeth" while he swallows small handfuls of cake sprinkles. We spoke to him on the front doorstep of his West Philadelphia apartment, which he had locked himself out of, as he waited for a locksmiths or something to come by.
Get Ye Gone: Mr. Puncture, you're not known for being a friendly man.
Savage H. Puncture: Come over here & say that!
GYG: You are a prolific writer but not a profitable one. You once joked that you had written more books than you ever sold.
SHP: Than were in print.
GYG: Excuse me?
SHP: You got the joke wrong. It's "I've written more books than are in print."
GYG: Is that possible?
SHP: What, that you got the joke wrong or that I've written more books than are in print?
GYG: Either.
SHP: Well, you didn't the joke.
GYG: Shouldn't a joke have a punch line?
SHP: I'll show you a punch line.
GYG: You have another book of short stories coming out, is that correct?
SHP: Indeed, in September from the Atkins Diet Press.
GYG: At what stage in your writing career do you think you're currently at?
SHP: You did that thing there, with the prepositions.
GYG: I beg your pardon?
SHP: You had the whaddayacall redundant prepositions. "At which stage are you at." That's what you said.
GYG: Do machines pray?
SHP: What the hell sort of question is that?
GYG: It seems to me that, as humans, we imbue our creations - art, poetry, music, movies - with feeling & that's what makes them alive to us. Is we create machines, do we not imbue them with soul too?
SHP: You remind me of this fruitcake I used to see down at Raymond's on karaoke night. He was always going on about shit like, do flowers give a damn? can you breathe in heaven? will you blow me for a fin?
GYG: What was that last one?
SHP: Drunks ain't proud.
GYG: Should a writer sleep more or less than a non-writer?
SHP: More. Sleeps helps with the hangover.
GYG: Unlike mainly authors who haven't really been published, you've stayed unmarried. As well, romance plays a very small part in your body of work. Why is that?
SHP: I have very dry skin.
GYG: I don't understand.
SHP: Let's move on.
GYG: Okay. Your recent novel Bernard Sprains His Groin was optioned for a movie starring Keanu Reeves. Though it seems to have been delayed for now, you've been vocal in your opposition to the movie. Is it because of Keanu Reeves?
SHP: Ah hell no. It's because of who they cast to play the groin.
GYG: Who's that?
SHP: Scott Baio.
GYG: Ouch.
SHP: I know!
GYG: Before we go, do you have any words to say to aspiring writers out there?
SHP: Yeah. Don't write for fanzines or small newspapers. People who write for those things are trapped their for life.
GYG: Thank you, Mr. Puncture.
SHP: Thank you, Mr. Pedophile.
