2011 — The Monarch Review — Page 8
Seventeen, Like At Sun Records – Chris Zappone
Tuesday, August 2, 2011 13:25 — 0 Comments
“It’s not the actual drug buying, you know?†Roy said. “It’s that time you have to spend there.†He turned and squinted at me through the thick Texas midday sun. We were on our way to Richard Kilo’s. His real name was Richard Key but because of his line of work… “I know,†I said. “That’s why we’re going now. We should be able to get there and get back to school in time.†We were going to buy a gram of crystal meth during our lunch hour. We were in high school. Being a teenager felt like being extremely […]
Mad About Mad: Why Mad Homes Disappoints – Lauren Klenow
Monday, August 1, 2011 13:39 — 5 Comments
During a recent discussion at Gage Academy of Art, executive director Pamela Belyea guided students through the daunting task of how to price their artwork. One of Belyea’s primary points is that Seattle is a third-tier art market; behind New York and Los Angeles, San Francisco, Chicago, and Miami, our collector base just can’t compete with the deep pockets of our neighbors to the east and south.
Topical – Jacqueline Michaud
Monday, August 1, 2011 13:16 — 0 Comments
They watch the breaking news, a Report from
Residence
Saturday, July 30, 2011 21:42 — 0 Comments
Seattle artists Chris Engman and Chauney Peck are moving to LA, and having a farewell show at Tim Cross‘s residence (522 Valley St. Seattle, WA 98109) from 5-11pm. Jason Hirata and Rumi Koshino will also present work, although they will stay right here in Seattle.
How to Cancel Your Wedding – Janice Wilson Stridick
Friday, July 29, 2011 19:22 — 4 Comments
So you have the wrong guy, and you’ve said yes because you feel old, you feel sorry for him, you hate your mother, you hate your job, you love his brother—whatever, you have a wedding to plan. Have fun—you deserve it—the pain is yet to come. Make sure that you and your mother fight over whom to invite. Wrangle over every shrimp hors d’oeurve. Pore over the latest tome of ultra-fashionable wedding accoutrements, and then figure out how you, your mother, and sisters can make them for half (or one-third) of the cost. Oh. The wedding dress. Of course you […]
Twelvemile Creek – David Cravens
Thursday, July 28, 2011 14:16 — 0 Comments
as the sun sets over the Saint Francis River
Laughter, Lobsters and Marriage – George Spohr
Wednesday, July 27, 2011 12:54 — 1 Comment
“Wanna write a piece on gay marriage?†my editor asked me. I bit my tongue before replying: “Sure, what’s involved?†“Basically, I know nothing about it,†he said. I cringed. What’s to know? Marriage is … well, marriage. It’s the union of two people who love each other enough to commit their lives to being together. Perks include hospital-visitation rights and all sorts of fun tax breaks. (Therein lies the reason “marriage†is so important. The whole notion that marriage is a religious institution and that homosexuals should be content with civil unions is rubbish. Rightly or wrongly, marriage is […]
Sylvia’s Sleeping Coat – Travis Lafferty
Tuesday, July 26, 2011 14:27 — 0 Comments
The world outside of Sylvia’s window is screeching wildly, growing louder and louder. Freight trains come lurching towards her bedroom; great lumbering giants of industry gnashing the ground and clawing at the tracks below them, creeping towards her curtains. A soundtrack not without a choir; flocks of birds singing flat, ugly songs, devoid of melody and drenched with longing. Tangled guitar strings are the threads that wind themselves around her; some sort of awful scratchy sweater sending her to lunacy. Every phobia finds a voice, each one of them more grisly than the last. The ceiling begins falling towards her, […]
BILLOW-RIFT – C. Dylan Bassett
Monday, July 25, 2011 12:38 — 0 Comments
The extravagance of June. The ailing moon stale-caught
Dustbowl Revival
Friday, July 22, 2011 19:25 — 0 Comments
A couple of weeks ago I walked into Lucid Jazz Lounge to hear the joyous sounds of what seemed like a fifteen piece swing band. The players packed onto the tiny stage were convulsing and roaring in sonic ecstasy. Their hot cherry attire flashed under the lights and the audience clapped and hooted with abandon. Two minutes later, the song was over, the set was finished, and I was left to wonder why I hadn’t arrived earlier. Lucky for me, Dustbowl Revival was selling their new album Holy Ghost Station, and my friends and I pitched in and purchased the […]
The answer isn't poetry, but rather language
- Richard Kenney
