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Indie Folk Goes Back to BasicsBy Ryan Brunt Artistic consistency can be a double-edged sword; while we often applaud artists who can deliver quality albums time and time again, and rightly so, when does consistency turn into repetition? When artists have style and approach that they stick to album after album, it can be difficult to keep the songs interesting and engaging. Florist has no such difficulties on their latest full length, Emily Alone. Although they don’t wander far from what made their first two albums so enjoyable, they still elevate their songwriting in meaningful ways.
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And the Crowd RoaredBy Gary Zenker “Why is there a soccer ball in the shower?” I ask my then-six-year-old son Seth. The soccer ball is a new addition to the usual assortment of action figures and nerf guns. The shower is oversized and can accommodate two people and a few child toys…and apparently, a soccer ball.
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Celebrating GlitteratureBy Ryan Brunt We’re living in a golden age of the literary magazine. The internet has broken down a lot of the barriers to putting together a publication, and as a result, there are countless new magazines with unique aesthetics and identities. One of the standouts of this new generation of publications is glitterMOB, whose latest issue was released in March. I reached out to editors Emily Present and Peter Cole Freidman to discuss their inspirations and what’s in store for glitterMOB.
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The Last OneBy Vivian Rachelle Joseph Lombardi, S.J., killed me by electrocution accidentally, but more importantly, hypothetically.
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The Real Heart of the South
By Rachel Rivenbark
Strange though the phrasing may sound, it was a deliberate choice which led to my stating that the three books I am about to present ought to be “experienced” rather than simply “read.” Although all three of them make for very interesting casual reading for the idle foodie looking for something to fill the time, they can also very much be defined as three books which any serious southern food enthusiast ought to read and take to heart.
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On Owning ShameBy Christine Sloan Stoddard Editor's Note: This piece originally appeared on the AngelHousePress website. In 2017, I wrote a chapbook about a woman who, as a coping mechanism, mythologized the story behind her ear deformity. As a little girl, she imagined she was a mermaid and called her ear a “clam ear.” This naming act became a means of empowering herself and accepting her body as it was. In 2018, Amanda Earl was kind enough to choose my manuscript for publication. The result was The Tale of the Clam Ear (AngelHousePress, Ottawa, 2018).
More than a year later, Jan Conn reviewed the chapbook for Arc Poetry Magazine. In July 2019, Amanda forwarded me the advance review via email. The subject was “A Rare Review-The Tale of the Clam Ear.” This piqued my interest. But my heart didn’t dance for long because Amanda’s terse email ended with this line: “It's not awful, just ableist, methinks.” Never read the reviews, right? Well, I couldn’t help myself. I braced myself as I opened the attachment. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Sorry/Not SorryI'm sorry for all of the "bad" art I ever made, and will continue to make, since not everything can be a masterpiece. Except not really. I'm not actually sorry. First of all, I'm not sorry just on principle. I apologize too much as it is. Most women and other marginalized people do. We are constantly made to feel smaller and less than, and, dammit, I want to take up space. If I take up space by making "bad" art—shitty poems and shitty videos and shitty comics—so be it. I won't back down from occupying the space I deserve. I won't back down from speaking up.
White men get to make what they make. Whether they toil away in obscurity or get the fame and fortune they feel they deserve, they still get to do it. I want to do it, too. And I want to do it without being grilled about when I'm "giving up" on art and having a baby, what my husband does for a living to "support" my art habit (always the implication), or being compared to other female artists simply because they are female. Women artists are not interchangeable. "All women's art is the same." Not true. What is true across the board? Our right to exist. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
I Don’t Get It Either: Why Now is the Time for Radical Change By Joanna Patzig “I don’t understand why anybody goes to all the trouble of running for president of the United
States just to talk about what we really can’t do and shouldn’t fight for. I don’t get it.” - Senator Elizabeth Warren, the Second Democratic Debate of 2019 There were a lot of quotable moments in the last round of debates, and probably more succinct ones than the one above. But this moment stuck with me as a representation of the arresting struggle between political strategy and important political discourse. For context, Senator Warren was responding to former congressman John Delaney’s criticism of her economic positions. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Netflix Sci-Fi Film Explores Morality in Technology and MoreBy Rachel Rivenbark The role of artificial intelligence in society and how it plays into either the flourishing or destroying of humanity is a topic which seemingly countless sci-fi films have attempted to broach. Everything from The Bicentennial Man to I, Robot to Chappie to the blood-curdling Terminator franchise takes a different approach to this basic everlasting question: what does it take, and what does it mean to be human? I’ve always loved these kinds of movies for the ethical dilemmas they present, but their biggest flaw has often been for their outcomes to be predictable, in one direction or the other. Viewers often know early in the movies who to trust, and which side to root for - that of robotkind, or humankind. I was extremely delighted, however, to note that director Grant Sputore’s new sci-fi film I Am Mother manages to not only make the list of these robo-classics, but also to circumvent this fatal flaw of immediate predictability.
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A Poetry Reading Isn't A CrucifixionWe should go to poetry readings to enjoy poetry, celebrate living poets, and support those poets by buying books when we are interested (and financially able.) But some poets make this hard. Very hard. Thus, we, fellow poets and/or the poor audience members, suffer. We didn't sign up for an hour or two of torture, but that's what we get.
Here are four signs a poet is being a jerk at a reading: |
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