J. Jupes

J. Jupes writes pulp, dystopia, and neo-schmutz laying down, always laying down. He likes having a cover in front of him before penning a word, assembling books from notes written on the back of Mars Bar wrappers. Raised by an English playwright, a Major in the British Army during WW II, Jupes can't stomach the practical, for example making outlines. He likes a sentence to smoke an unfiltered cigarette, then flick the butt into a brown puddle with a hiss.

"I type real fast with two fingers," he says, "like a two beaked woodpecker. I use a typewriter because I like pounding the keys, pounding the keys, shoving the carriage at the end of a line, ripping out the page, slapping it down on the Done Pile. Never went to writing school but stood on the corner of Nostril Hair and Brown Stain and bought a pretzel at the stand there. Told the guy, 'extra mustard.' I have few qualities people relate to. I stay indoors, every night falling asleep in front of my little TV, wake myself snoring, about two, crawl across the floor onto my bare mattress. Might pee a little bit in my sleep. Like waking up early, sitting at the typewriter, warming my hands around a cup of Sanka. When the sun comes up, I make himself toast, English marmalade, look at the empty plate, at the crumbs. World's nothing but toast and marmalade, crumbs mainly. Then I might open the fridge. Have a look see. Might not. Usually end up closing the door without taking anything. Might come back later, open the door again. Might not. J stands for Johnny.