May 11, 2020

“The Party,” A Short Story by William Torphy

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“The Party,” A Short Story by William Torphy

Image: “He Said, She Said” (c) Katheryn Holt, www.kholt.com The Party It was the architect and the gun moll who captured my attention. The party was a casual industry event held in the Hollywood Hills at the home of a producer, one in fact who had bankrolled a film I’d worked on once, though all my ideas for it were rejected in favor of chase scenes and revenge murders. I was a screenwriter who had yet to see any credits on screen. I hadn’t worked for over a year and needed to hustle a project, any project, very soon.    I was out of sorts when I arrived since my wife Jen announced at the last minute that she needed some quiet ‘me-time’ that evening. She did, however, take time to dress me for the affair. Tight black jeans that were squeezing my balls. A fifty-dollar T-shirt a size too small that cut into my underarms. A tailored green cashmere sport coat that made me look like a string bean.   I’d been invited through a friend of a friend of a colleague, someone I’d never met but hoped…

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May 7, 2020

“My Girlfriend, the Narcissist,” Poet Natascha Graham

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“My Girlfriend, the Narcissist,” Poet Natascha Graham

My Girlfriend, the Narcissist   She’s called Gillian. She’s got brown hair, and eyes the colour of a bleached winter sky.  She’s about 5’5″, but she’s tough.  My girlfriend was a narcissist. She didn’t like me having friends, or seeing family.  So, I didn’t really.  Gillian stuck around, though.  In fact, that’s when I first met her.  A few months in.  I met her on the school run.  She was standing in a driveway nudging gravel with the toe of her Converse.  I asked her if she’d lost something.  Her wedding ring, she said. Not that it mattered.  He was a cheating bastard.  We walked to school together, her black wax jacket similar to mine, though I envied its collar, and the zip doesn’t work on mine. It broke on Melton playing field when I bent…

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May 3, 2020

Mario Loprete — Urban Paintings on Concrete

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Mario Loprete — Urban Paintings on Concrete

Mario Loprete Artist’s Statement: I live in a world that i shape at my liking, throughout a virtual pictorial and sculptural movement, transferring my experiences, photographing reality throughout my filters, refined from years research and experimentation.  Painting for me is the first love. An important, pure love. Creating a painting, starting from the spasmodic research of a concept with which I want to send a message to transmit my message, it’s the base of my painting. The sculpture is my lover, my artistic betrayal to the painting. That voluptuous and sensual lover that gives me different emotions, that touches prohibited cords…  The new series of works on concrete it’s the one that is giving me more personal and professional satisfactions. How was it born? It was the result of an important investigation of my work, the research of that “quid” that i felt was missing….

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April 26, 2020

“Carson McCullers,” Poetry by Abigail George

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“Carson McCullers,” Poetry by Abigail George

Carson McCullers  I will always love music, she said to me. Turned her   face away and became a sad ghost like all the people  that I have loved in my life. The sad ghost, dead snakes,   the religious, the ordered hide mischief in plain sight.   The geranium has a tongue and the sky appears to be   falling. The moon walks wider now. It curls up. The   red-haired sun does not know how to travel lightly in   summer. She swoons. She will fall at your feet if you  remove articles of your clothing. I travel light in these  heavy years. Waving earlier to the good women who   pass me by. With their white teeth and their sweet   breath. Bread to the soul. And the wind is sunburnt from  the form and shape of the river, to the…

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April 16, 2020

“Mythomane’s Truth,” Poetry by Sanjeev Sethi

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“Mythomane’s Truth,” Poetry by Sanjeev Sethi

Mythomane’s Truth    If we could retrofit ourselves?  I would not be me nor you, you.    Imagine me without infirmities.   I would no longer be po-faced,  pudgy and potbellied. My eyes  wouldn’t swim sans Adam’s ale.    If any of this gladdens your gut:    I reckon, you aren’t for me.  ** Flux    From entanglements of existence   I’m in firmament of my own.   In roll-call of needs anamnesis   mitigates. Past is polished with   coats of one’s inner complexion.   Peeps are like diaries different   page different piece: same smell.  ** Vision    When you unself   from a situation or skein:   you deliver lavish   dividends for yourself.    Opportune distancing   mends the ache:   of the eventualities  of our exploits.    Propinquity bedims   the perspective:  leaving us to lust   after our parakeet or pelt.  *** Sanjeev Sethi is published in over 25 countries. He has more than 1200 poems printed or posted…

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April 14, 2020

“Vogel,” A Novel Excerpt by David Lincoln

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“Vogel,” A Novel Excerpt by David Lincoln

TUESDAY, JUNE 13, 1944  AMIENS, FRANCE  STANDARTENFUHRER HANS VOGEL entered cell 51. His black uniform was spotless and sat on his shoulders the way it would a man comfortable with physical exertion. The SS insignia on his collar faintly reflected the light from the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. It was the only illumination in the cell, which reeked of urine and the familiar coppery scent of blood.  The naked prisoner sat in a steel chair, straddling the drain in the middle of the room. His wrists were bound to the arms of the chair, his ankles held fast to its legs. Leather straps held his chest rigid. One eye was swollen and purple. His lips were shredded, and his body was peppered with bruises. A sergeant wearing a Wehrmacht uniform was standing behind…

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April 12, 2020

Arya F. Jenkins — An Author Interview

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Arya F. Jenkins — An Author Interview

Editor’s Note: We asked author and FC member/contributor, Arya F. Jenkins, a few questions about her book of short stories. Interview with Arya F. Jenkins  Author of Blue Songs in an Open Key  Short stories published by Fomite, 2018  When did you first get the idea to write this book?  I was in the midst of a long love affair with jazz when I first started writing fiction with the idea of having it published. I decided to do something a little different and interweaved my love for that music into a story. My short story, “So What,” was inspired by the first cut in the seminal album by Miles Davis, Kinda Blue, and won first prize in a fiction contest in Jerry Jazz Musician, a jazz-based zine run by Joe Maita.   That was in 2012, and subsequently I was asked to write more stories for Jerry Jazz Musician, which I did, at…

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April 9, 2020

“Review for a Canvas Fanny Pack,” by Kerry Langan

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“Review for a Canvas Fanny Pack,” by Kerry Langan

Heading for Review:  Big Mistake  Reviewer Name: SheWhoIsDisappointedandIsGoingtoTellYouHowMuch   I gave this fanny pack one star because there was no option to give it no stars. If you try to leave the 5-star graphic blank, it won’t let you go to the box where you’re supposed to leave the actual review. So, just know that I gave this one star but it should be no stars. Zilch.  First of all, I ordered an apple green fanny pack from HikeBike.com when they were running that sale a couple weeks ago. Apple green, like the color of grass in July and my favorite sweater and, well, green apples! In the photo they ran during the sale, the fanny pack looks like it would match a Granny Smith. I love apple green. If you opened my closet door, you’d see that almost everything is green. Kevin, my ex, told me once that green was a great color with my brown…

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April 6, 2020

“‘The Misfits’ Revisited,” Poetry by Stephen Mead

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“‘The Misfits’ Revisited,” Poetry by Stephen Mead

“The Misfits” Revisited*   When you chased, lassoed the mustangs,  tying hooves to necks of down  weighed by tires heavy as trucks,  you wrenched the galloping out of me  till I found my rage…    Butchers!  What is the spirit if not these horses  wild first to last, these zeniths, comet-  tailed, free as the sage, the mountains,  the thousand miles of it?    That is me down there in the dust.  That is you who cannot see yourself  for the sign of dog food dollars,  a cowboy’s wage, the dream  gone to blood.    Put my blood on your fingers.  Lick clean.  Let whiskey drown the taste.  The taste will come back, the beleaguering   fever and freedom here truly trotting  beyond your ropes which shake and shake.    Lost boy, lost cow poke,  I will…

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April 2, 2020

William Crawford — Forensic Foraging Photography

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William Crawford — Forensic Foraging Photography

Artist’s Statement: The trite, trivial and mundane are often dismissed by today’s technology driven photographers. Images shot can unlock the beauty and intrinsic value hidden in most everyday things. Thus, an old fractured glass window found on a wrecked desert shack might better be presented as a compelling image. Such a transformational presentation can be achieved by applying basic photographic techniques: framing, lighting, coloration, saturation, contrast, etc. This precise application of seminal tenets can often transform the mundane into something pleasing. This process forms the essence of Forensic Foraging. Photographers today possess a plethora of powerful technical tools. High resolution sensors, potent post processing software, and cameras with such jacked up processors that they could, in a pinch, support the governmental operations of a small city. Many camera images today all but surpass the human capacities…

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