if you’ve got any of that that explores or makes reference to your heritage, culture, region, hometown, neighborhood, community, etc etc etc. any type of art or writing welcome.
deadline february 15!
(but send it anyway if you still have something after that)
more info here: http://mapsforteeth.wordpress.com/submit/
and then send it here: email@example.com
if you know anyone that might be interested, please pass this on. thank you!
My names Weasel and I’m the managing editor for a small, non-profit literary magazine called Vagabonds. We publish twice a year and we’re currently calling for submissions! We have a full list of guidelines available on our website for all to review. We’re a magazine that has a beat generation mentality looking for dedicated artists and writers to feature in our upcoming issue.
Thank you for your time!
I close the back cover of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. It is an unsatisfying feeling in my fingers due to the warped pages that prevent a flat close - probably from water damage. Or semen. Who the fuck knows? I wonder if this is what prostitutes and whores feel like near the end of their life - like a handled library book. Full of dents and bends and rips. Passed along between any sad pathetic person with cash like some sort of hopeless reverse assembly line. Instead of workers inspecting and building a product they chip off parts of it until it’s nothing more than a couple pieces barely held together and covered with cheap paint. Depressing thoughts on this stark black Thursday night.
How is it possible for a man to flood his brain with so many psychedelic chemicals and still function? I guess Hunter had quite a tolerance living though the LSD counter culture movement. I imagine that his savage journey to Las Vegas - and the drugs that rearranged the chemicals in his brain like an amateur scientist in a room full of beakers and test tubes - was no match for his seasoned (and fried) grey matter. His brain, at that point, was the scabbed over knee of a young skateboarder in the late summer months. The rigid, slightly oval scab acting as a dark shield against the unforgiving pavement.
Is this what people want to read about? Someone else taking all the wild and risky adventures for them and then documenting the results. Would the world be full of artists and open minded people if we all went on our own adventures? I’m reminded of when I planned to take weekend trips to …wherever. Louisiana, Oklahoma, Arkansas . Anywhere. Just drive around and look for an adventure. I have morphed into an introverted mustachioed person and I felt that spontaneous trips would help me break - or at least significantly crack- this outer shell. Of course those solo trips never happened and I lie here in my bed with my laptop slowly cooking my cock as I write about what ifs. Oh well, there’s always next weekend. Stay positive! Like HIV!