WHOA DONT CARE – Garett Strickland


by Garett Strickland
ISBN: 978-1-942359-01-2
Edited by Weston Smith
40 p; $18


No one ever told me
where the party was
and for good reason

“A beautiful book written with all the obscene glamor of the internet and all the hatred and self-hatred that the age demands and demands and demands.” – Johannes Göransson

“WDC is the celestial waste following contrails along the descent into mud and how the spirit relents to its body of clay—”putting a self where it doesn’t belong,” plugging holes with more holes in order to become some kind of prophylactic against immortality, or maybe, form as condom. And the poem, seminal, spilt and fueled by its infernal complicity to the source, writ with a slavish erection.” – Tyann Prentice

“Garett Strickland’s WHOADONTCARE disturbs the peace but I’m happily upset.” – Lauren Nickou

“I enjoyed it immensely, half-baked and sadistic as it is in its musings on love-sickness and the wretchedness of beauty, much of the language highly original, intriguing new word formations… It reminds me so much of my favorite parts of Rimbaud. I sat Beauty in my lap and spanked her. ” – A.W. Strouse

“Poetry and fucking are indistinct in this work, and both are cause for anxiety and dread… He highlights the lonely desires that drive ordinary people to extreme acts.”  – Laura Ellen Joyce

“WHOADONTCARE’s words speak like a schizoid Jon Leon whose discovery of metaphysics pushes toward the void-realm of Artaud’s Rodez notebooks: scribbled spite in the heavy black of graphite line upon line, shouting and burning.” – M. Kitchell