James McGirk
But not a winner. From C&R Press…
I learned about the MONIAC in my high school marco-economics class: a.k.a. the Financephalograph or the Philips Hydraulic Computer, MONIAC was a massive machine, the size of two grandfather clocks bolted together, only instead of gears there was colored fluid inside, sluicing through tubes, pushing valves open and filling cisterns. Here, fluid was a metaphor for money, and by manipulating how much trickled through the system (pour in investments, drain out expenditures…) MONIAC could model Great Britain’s fiscal policy.
My publisher went out of business, which means my novel INDIAN MADE FOREIGN LIQUOR is on offer once again. If you’re a publisher and are interested in taking a look, please feel free to get in touch. Click to download a sample chapter.
I live surrounded by retirees in rural Oklahoma. They are spry. They own arsenals of gardening equipment: lawnmower-tractor hybrids that grind through the fibrous local flora with cruel efficiency; they wield wicked contraptions, whirling motorized blades that allow withered men to sculpt hedges into forms of sublime and delectable complexity.
Come see me on Oct. 17th (if you’re in Tulsa) at the third annual Literary Death Match
HOMEWARD BOUND: Tahlequah via Brooklyn: James McGirk writes notes from a screened-in porch in a city that sleeps.
Art expresses an artist’s experiences, observations and mood. And for artist Amy McGirk, a graduate of Yale University School of Art, design can tie an artist to ancient cultures that used the same pattern. McGirk describes her “style” as non-representational geometric abstraction. AMYMCGIRKSTUDIO.TUMBLR.COM