Mike DeCapite – New Work

October 26, 2016

Mike DeCapite’s “Locker Room Talk,” on Vimeo

Filed under: Uncategorized — Mike DeCapite @ 5:40 am


Mike DeCapite at Cake Shop, 10/22/16: photo by June Hony


Mike DeCapite put together some excerpts from his novel-in-progress Jacket Weather and read them as “Locker Room Talk” the other day at the Enclave series, at Cake Shop, NYC. Writer/filmmaker Liza Béar shot part of it and has made it available on Vimeo, here.

October 12, 2016

Saturday, Oct. 22, 5 p.m. Enclave Reading Series: DeCapite / Yuko Otomo / Jameson Fitzpatrick

Filed under: Uncategorized — Mike DeCapite @ 4:20 pm

Enclave returns to the Lower East Side this month with a dazzling line-up of authors. For our season opener one of our favorite poets, YUKO OTOMO, returns to the Enclave stage– along with one of our favorite fiction writers, MIKE DeCAPITE. Rounding out the phenomenal bill is the inimitable JAMES FITZPATRICK. It’s an Enclave reading that is not to be missed.

As usual the drinks will be cheap, the lights will be turned down low, and admission is free.

For more info on the series: www.theenclavereadingseries.tumblr.com


YUKO OTOMO is a bilingual (Japanese & English) writer & a visual artist. She writes poetry, haiku, art criticism, travelogues & essays. Her latest publications include “STUDY & Other Poems on Art” (Ugly Duckling Presse) & “Elements” (the Feral Press). She regularly writes for a collective critical writing forum www.Arteidolia.com.

MIKE DeCAPITE is the author of the novel Through the Windshield, the chapbooks Sitting Pretty and Creamsicle Blue, and the short-prose collection Radiant Fog. This past spring, with photographer Ted Barron, he curated the Sparkle Street Social & Athletic Club series at the Howl! Happening gallery. He lives in New York and he’s working on a novel.

JAMESON FITZPATRICK’s poems have appeared in The Awl, BuzzFeed Reader, Poetry, Prelude, and elsewhere. He is the author of the chapbook Morrisroe: Erasures (89plus/LUMA Publications), which comprises 24 versions of a single text by the artist Mark Morrisroe, and teaches writing at New York University.”

September 15, 2016

Mike DeCapite + Greg Masters at Local Knowledge: Sunday, September 25, 3 p.m.

Filed under: Uncategorized — Mike DeCapite @ 6:05 pm

DeCapite at This Long Century

Filed under: Uncategorized — Mike DeCapite @ 5:57 pm

photo by Don Heiny


A new piece of writing about an old piece of writing: Mike DeCapite writes about his first book at This Long Century.

July 10, 2016

Friday, June 15, Beachland Ballroom: Mike DeCapite / X__X / Obnox / DJ Robert Sikora

Filed under: Uncategorized — Mike DeCapite @ 10:46 am

Doors 8:00 / Show 9:00


Beachland Ballroom

15711 Waterloo Road

Cleveland, Ohio

(216) 383-1124

June 9, 2016

Sunday, June 12: SSSA&C 3 w/ Mike DeCapite, Ted Barron, Vincent Katz & Luc Sante

Filed under: Uncategorized — Mike DeCapite @ 1:23 pm

photo by Ted Barron


Sparkle Street Social & Athletic Club, Part 3

Readings by Mike DeCapite, Vincent Katz, and Luc Sante
Video by Ted Barron

Sunday, June 12th, 2016 / 4 PM / FREE

Howl! Happening gallery

6 East 1st St. between Bowery and Second Ave.

we know that streets only
connect us, but what matters
is how the sky looks, how
buildings reflect it, the certain
smell of an air, a day, and
there’s never enough
you go walking through it
—Vincent Katz

Join us for the final installment of Sparkle Street Social & Athletic Club’s acclaimed spring series, with writers Mike DeCapite, Vincent Katz, and Luc Sante, and photographer/filmmaker Ted Barron.

Ted Barron has exhibited his work extensively in the U.S., and his photographs have been seen in numerous publications, including The New York Times Sunday Magazine, Rolling Stone, Bald Ego and Yeti. He’s shot cover art for albums by Steve Earle, Amy Rigby, and Laura Cantrell. In 2011 he collaborated with writer Drew Hubner on the book East of Bowery. He has written about music and edited the website Boogie Woogie Flu, and he is a DJ at WFMU.

Mike DeCapite’s published work includes the novel Through the Windshield, the chapbooks Sitting Pretty and Creamsicle Blue, and the short-prose collection Radiant Fog. His work has found many other outlets, including the magazines 3:AM, CUZ, Evergreen Review, and Vanitas, and numerous public readings.

Vincent Katz is a poet, translator, critic, and curator. He is the author of 12 books of poems, including Swimming Home (Nightboat Books, 2015) and Southness (Lunar Chandelier Press, 2016). He collaborated with photographer Rudy Burckhardt on two books about New York City, and curated several Burckhardt exhibitions, including Street Dance: The New York Photographs of Rudy Burckhardt, for the Museum of the City of New York. He teaches at the Yale School of Art and lives in New York City, where he curates the Readings in Contemporary Poetry series at Dia: Chelsea.

Luc Sante’s books include Low Life: Lures and Snares of Old New York, The Factory of Facts, Kill All Your Darlings: Pieces 1990–2005, and The Other Paris. He has lectured on four continents and contributed to many publications, from ephemeral zines to ornamental coffee-table anvils.

May 6, 2016

Sparkle Street Social & Athletic Club: Wednesday, May 11, 7 p.m.

Filed under: Uncategorized — Mike DeCapite @ 12:56 pm

photo by Ted Barron

The second installment of Sparkle Street Social & Athletic Club, a series created by Mike DeCapite and Ted Barron for the Howl! Happening gallery (6 East 1st St., NYC), will take place Wednesday, May 11, at 7:00 p.m., and will include short films by Ted Barron and readings by Mike DeCapite and Max Blagg. Admission is free.


From the Howl! Happening press release:

In what is seen, there should be just the seen;
In what is heard, there should be just the heard;
In what is sensed, there should be just the sensed;
In what is thought, there should be just the thought.
—Buddhist saying

DeCapite, Barron, and Blagg are all connoisseurs of the street. This evening is about the pleasures of strolling around New York City, observing the present moment—immersing in the pure euphoria of that action. Writers DeCapite and Blagg both describe themselves as flaneurs, a literary type first identified in 19th century France implying an urban explorer. DeCapite and Blagg describe exactly what’s in front of them, yet they’re also aware of how the city interacts with memory and imagination—an interaction that is activated by the ecstasy of keen observation. Photographer Ted Barron is “a thief of the imagination,” able to transmit a timeless moment that needs no narrative yet tells a powerful story. This evening will be the second in a series. The third installment of the Sparkle Street Social & Athletic Club will take place on June 12, and will feature Mike DeCapite, Ted Barron, Vincent Katz, and Luc Sante.

I climb out on the fire escape . . . I know I’m supposed to have something to say, but I’m happiest when I’m just a recording device. I don’t have anything to say. I write from an impulse to catalog. The frustration of not being a visual artist, I guess. It’s exhausting that everything should mean something. The human curse. I can tell myself I’m just out harvesting details, but something in me needs to arrange them so they mean something.
—Mike DeCapite, from “April Morning Fire Escape”


January 31, 2016

Tuesday, Feb. 16: Mike DeCapite + Greg Masters

Filed under: Uncategorized — Mike DeCapite @ 11:33 am

Mike and Greg met on the Lower East Side in the late 1980s and are old admirers of one another’s work, but this is their first reading together.

Mike DeCapite will read bits and pieces from his chapbook Creamsicle Blue and from a novel-in-progress.

Greg Masters is a writer who has lived in the East Village of Manhattan for 40 years. His latest books are For the Artists: Critical Writing and At Maureen’s (with Bernadette Mayer).


December 10, 2015

December 22: The Beachland Ballroom’s Old Home Night

Filed under: Uncategorized — Mike DeCapite @ 6:30 am


December 1, 2015

December (for Jim Jones)

Filed under: Uncategorized — Mike DeCapite @ 6:18 am


One night after work, thirty years ago, in Cleveland, I took the Rapid Transit train downtown, a Friday night in early December, that’s how I remember it, right after work around 5:00, 5:30, in the dark. For some reason, maybe by mistake, I took the train to 25th Street instead of downtown. I was going, I guess, to the record store, Record Rendezvous, where Jimmy Jones presided, maybe it was payday, and after mentally paying all my bills and figuring and refiguring my budget for the next two weeks, maybe I had an extra twenty to blow. I could usually manage to buy myself a record or two every couple of weeks. Anyway, I got off the Rapid at this deserted station, this deserted platform across the river from downtown, and it was snowing. I was a little lost but not completely lost, because I could see the Terminal Tower across the river, through the falling snow. I was just lost enough. And since since I had nowhere to go or be that night and didn’t have to work the next day, which opened my imagination or dropped my defenses against imagination, and since I was accountable to no one, I started walking toward downtown. I must have dared myself to do it—“Just walk there!”—and started walking down the hill toward the river. Not that it was a long walk or anything. It was a challenge to routine, to the idea that I had to get right home, that I had to explain myself to anyone or even to myself. It was a challenge to established routes. And so I walked to the river and then, in the dark among the weeds, I found the mouth of an unused road along the river, and I followed it. The snow was falling in big flakes and ticking into the weeds, and through the snow I could see the Terminal Tower. I was lost but not too lost, and because it was Friday and payday I was free but just free enough to know it. I think of this as the time of Sandinista, the Clash record, but it could have been a year later. I don’t remember what I bought at the record store, I don’t remember being there, I don’t remember downtown or by what bridge I crossed the river. What I remember is walking on a road that wasn’t quite a road, through tall dead weeds, with the Terminal Tower through the falling snow, in the early dark of an early-December Friday on what now turns out to have been one of the happiest nights of my life.

NYC 2010

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