Poetry - May 7, 2012 13:00 - 0 Comments

NateStottrup-Fuck Everything and Run

RON RIEKKI – ON NOT GETTING HIRED

Monday, May 7, 2012 13:00

It’s OK. I have knees. My hotel is in my back. I have successfully committed suicide so many times that Julie doesn’t even complain anymore. Remember Julie? God, she was perfect. Now there’s just Mom’s ashes. It gets worse. Listen to this. I’m barefeet in a Publix and the woman owner is telling me to leave, so I go home, get on match.com and the first woman I click on looks so sad that I wonder if she just got stabbed by a Chinese grad student. Remember Julie? God, she was beautiful. When I think about taking pills, it’s like a [...]

Visual Arts - May 2, 2012 7:00 - 0 Comments

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Jenna Kuiper

Wednesday, May 2, 2012 7:00

I am an admitted mass collector. I frequently find beauty in objects of the most mundane and mostly from Goodwill. I compulsively pick up or purchase items, trashed and looked over by others. Eventually these objects become little descriptive words in my visual encyclopedia and find themselves on display in the micro world of my apartment. Each with intent, their display is meant to describe a piece of my conscious life, a word in my narrative and part of my personal story to the visitor or guest.  After their arrangement I find myself revisiting these objects in an almost obsessive [...]

Fiction - May 1, 2012 15:14 - 2 Comments

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Eggs

Tuesday, May 1, 2012 15:14

Herald stood at the refrigerator door, palpating the egg he had just taken from the carton.  He had made the carton himself from wood pulp and old newspapers.  He also farmed the egg himself, from his chickens that he had out back in the chicken coop, which was a little shack that he had built especially for the hens.  Herald was proud of his industrious nature and felt close to his work.  He continued to feel the egg.  Something was off.  It was heavy.  He shifted it from one hand to the other, letting it drop a little into each [...]

Poetry - Apr 30, 2012 12:58 - 0 Comments

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Garden Song – Mia Ayumi Malhotra

Monday, April 30, 2012 12:58

Knives. Your children are coming to dinner all clamor and grab, faces ticking with greed like teeth left fastened too long in the head. Left untended, your mind’s gone maggoty, rotted like the cold center of a plum. Hungry in the head, rows of unpolished spoons. They’ve hired a woman to haunt the hallway, fetch the bone china. Left as a tribulation when you die, the chard will run rampant. Unhemmed, the bean rows will loosen like old muscles in the mouth, come undone in the garden’s thistled heart.

Visual Arts - Apr 25, 2012 19:56 - 0 Comments

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Larry Bob Phillips

Wednesday, April 25, 2012 19:56

It is difficult to visually depict memory. It’s not until sleep that our brains siphon through the massive amount of information that fills our heads in a waking day. And, even after the cataloging efforts of sense-making we are left with multi-layered snapshots which evoke in most part emotional reactions to sights, smells and sounds. A memory of a street corner can contain an overall sense of space, mixed perspectives, tear outs and clippings, of figures, shadows, smells, colors, lines, animals or trash all of which seem to be scattered on top of each other. Memory is not linear. The [...]

Fiction - Apr 24, 2012 13:51 - 0 Comments

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Bully-Cops—Katie Hoffman

Tuesday, April 24, 2012 13:51

Which is what I don’t understand in the air—in the mass that makes the porridge, where the cigarette smoke goes, where you see and fake to see.

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Pop Music Died with Kurt Cobain (but there aren’t enough shovels)

April 4th, 2012

© Ollie Glatzer

Radiohead’s OK Computer, Beck’s Mellow Gold, The Strokes’ Is This It all marked their place in rock history, but none could be argued (sensibly) to have come anywhere near the epochal event that was Nevermind. Nevermind distilled and beatified the disillusionment, angst, anger and sorrow of a generation that otherwise had nothing much for consolation. It was art, and it still is.