Friday, April 29, 2011


(Here we proudly present the work of the esteemed


... who contributed the following response to Writing Assignment #64):

The Final Interval Speech

Rumnif-Y! Today, is the day the stable boy from the Upper People's Republic of Shericksway-Latvia killed 25 men with his feet.

This game has evolved from men wearing shorts kicking a leather ball through a goal to men in suits of steel killing their opponents with a pink ball. I believe you, Rumnif-Y, are a diamond in the rough kind of talent. Your ancestors who grew up thriving in football passed down to you the superhuman leg power you need to be successful in this game. I believe you were born for this task. In 60 minutes, you will be holding the World Presidential Alliance Gobelkiball Cup.

Before you go out there, I have a few tips for you. I want you to close your eyes for a moment and imagine yourself inside the arena kicking the Gobelkiball through the skull of each man. See each one fall to the turf in your mind. Hear their grunts as the ball shatters their craniums. Feel the ball strike from your instep and sail toward your target. Taste your own sweat on your lips as your chase after the ball. Smell their fear. You are going to win if you see yourself winning. See it now.

I’ve watched your practices leading up to this match. I’ve seen how you can kick a Gobelkiball through a wall. You are no stable boy. Once you get out there, begin running towards the strongest man. Kill him first. The other two dozen men will watch stunned, paralyzed. It will prove to them – and yourself – just how tough you really are. After the first man is killed, it will rain unshakeable fear upon the remaining two dozen men. Keep the ball in front of you at all times. Some will resort to cowardly tactics. If you are attacked from behind, use your legs to kick behind you and to each side to give yourself some space. These men can’t touch your incredible leg strength and you may find the need to kick in someone’s chest.

I’ve had a nebulizer installed in your helmet. You’ll have more than enough prednisone to last the entire match. Run with no fear that you might end up winded, gasping for breath. The nebulizer has been pre-programmed to ensure you have wide-open lungs, even at an accelerated heart beat. Imagine running after the Gobelkiball breathing freely, for the first time outdistancing your opponents to get there first without coughing.

Your competitor’s strength is to come at you riding their airboards. You are at your most vulnerable if you find yourself next to the stadium walls. Keep in the middle of the arena. If you end up on the sidelines with a man racing down the wall at you, shoot the Gobelkiball at the feet. You’ll either knock them off their machines or shatter their tibias. No one can out run you. On the ground, you are unbeatable and the best part is they have no idea what they’re in for.

They see you as the meek, mild stable boy who has asthma. They see you as the man who hasn’t killed anyone before. They see you as an easy kill. The men you are about to face are relieved they are facing you and not my son. They are relaxed. They are vulnerable. In a few minutes, you will show the world you are every bit as horrific as he was. They are about to die.

Derriq-Pir wanted so badly to be fighting this match. You may have seen the picture of him chained to a World Government employee hospital bed. He was a good boy. He was the greatest Gobelkiball player I had ever seen. I know the government is somehow involved in his murder but we don’t have time to talk about this now. Go out there and fight with all you have because there are shady men in this world who wanted to see us fail today. These people who want to jettison us to space or who want us to be killed. Today, we will get our revenge. You are going to kill and kill and kill.

Open your eyes. The time has come for you to fight the Final Interval. Go out there and show them who you really are…the new Gobelkiball champion. Remember what I told you. Can you see yourself holding the Cup? What does it feel like to kiss that trophy?

Rumnif-Y, listen. The crowd is booing.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011


(Here we proudly present the work of the esteemed

Mr. Bobby Evers

....who contributed the following response to Writing Assignment #59)

- embedding - v. Pounding a thing into the bed of another thing, as in

a rock or an internet post.

Used in a sentence: Charlie was embedding the html code for a music

video clip into the bed of rock located outside the plantation's
easternmost wall.

- embellish - v. to tell an teeny tiny lie, a lie so small it may as

well not even exist.

Used in a sentence: Charlie began to embellish Miranda's lesser points

for his own personal gains.

- embellishment - n. one tiny lie

Used in a sentence: Charlie's single worst embellishment was to tell

Miranda, "You don't even look fat in that pair of shoes, Miranda.

- ember - n. a tiny bit of burning matter that rises up from a larger

collection of burning bits of matter

Used in a sentence: a tiny ember rose up from the burning fire and

landed delicately on Miranda's shoulder, the pad of the shoulder
getting a little ashy about it.

- Ember day n. Christian holiday founded in 1666 to honor the burning

of the witches found practicing Black Magick underneath the windmill
as a sacrifice to Our Lord Jesus Christ

Used in a sentence: Amy and Becky were home from school, as the school

was closed in observance of Ember Day.

- emberizine - v. to polish a human organism until it shines and

glistens like chrome

Used in a sentence: Merrill sprayed the spray on the rag and wiped his

father's bald head to emberizine it like new.

- embezzle - v. to use subterfuge in order to siphen bits of money

from a pool of money that does not belong to you.

Used in a sentence: I was impeached as CEO of my Kid Detective Agency

I ran out of my own treehouse when I began to embezzle nickels from
the nickel jar.

- embiid n. the jewel you'll find in the forehead of a magic pony / centaur

Used in a sentence: Starla gallopped through the prairie, her embiid

glistening as if it had just been emberizined.

- embiotocid - n - the next largest thing after a zygote.

Used in a sentence: Kids, your mother and I have been separated ever

since you were nothing more than a couple a embiotocids floating
around a whiskey glass.

- embitter - v - to grow a callous layer of skin after being scorned somehow

Used in a sentence: Too many heartbreaks began to embitter him, thus

he quit preschool.

- Embla - n - the first ever emblem found on the first ever Newberry

Award Winning paperback

Used in a sentence: Shades of Grey is known for having the Embla, the

first ever emblem found on the first ever Newberry Award Winning
paperback, from which all emblems would then follow.

- emblaze - n. to burn a raging path through or upon

Used in a sentence: When Weezer released their 2010 album "Hurley"

countless followers decided to emblaze the face of Jorge Garcia on
their shoulders, backs, clavicles, and calves.

Saturday, April 23, 2011


Here is the line-up of readers for our upcoming reception celebrating the publication of Issue VI!

The reception for Issue VI: Spring 2011 is THIS TUESDAY, April 26 at Cole's Bar! 2238 N Milwaukee Ave., 7 to 10 p.m.

Issues I-VI will be for sale, and the readings! OH, THE READINGS!

Starting at 8 o'clock, there will be live readings from Issue VI, and beyond.

FEATURING, in alphabetical order

Kristiana Colón
Larry O. Dean
Dr. Daniel Gajda
Chris Hefner
Ryan P. Kennedy
Muyassar Kurdi
John Thurgood

Don't miss this excellent celebration of the written word! See you all Tuesday!

Monday, April 18, 2011


For today, get a pen and an old white shirt that you don't really want anymore. It must have sleeves.

Now, listen to this song: and in the ten minutes it takes to do so, write a short story about a teenage dance party, but limit your writing to the left sleeve of the shirt.

Now, listen to the song again: and in the ten minutes it takes to do so, write a short story about a group of teenagers getting arrested for public intoxication after a teenage dance party, but limit your writing to the right sleeve of the shirt.

Now, listen to the song again: and in the ten minutes it takes to do so, write a short story about a teenager been driven home by his or her single father and he posted bail for them, but limit your writing to the back of the shirt.

Now, listen to the song a final time: and in the ten minutes it takes to do so, write a short story about returning to school the Monday after a riotous teenage dance party that ended in jail and awkward family dinners all weekend, but limit your writing to the front of the shirt.

Lastly, wear the shirt in public during your next run to the convenience store and then mail the shirt to

Logan Square Literary Review
3049 W. Diversey #2
Chicago, IL 60647

Thursday, April 14, 2011


For today, pretend you are an athletic coach in the far far far future. Space colonization has failed, and the Earth is dangerously overpopulated.

Among many other population-control measures, most forms of athletic competition have been refashioned into last-man-standing games, in which the winning team is the one that successfully slaughters all members of the other team without disobeying the rules of the game.

Imagine yourself as the coach of the Mozambique Tarp Plendor-Kilnetz (this is the far future), the year's Cinderella team in the World Presidential Alliance Gobelkiball tournament. Your team, originally composed of 27 players, is down to one final man after completing 78 Intervals. The game ends after 79 Intervals or until one team has lost every one of its players to death, whichever occurs first. At the end of the 79th Interval, the surviving players on the losing team are jettisoned into space. The coaches are spared, as they are World Government Employees.

You have one player remaining in the game, nicknamed Rumnif-Y. Your opponents have retained all but two of their players throughout the course of the game. Rumnif-Y is an asthmatic stable boy from the Upper People's Republic of Shericksway-Latvia. This is his first tournament and has yet to make a kill. He may have a special skill that has just come to light.

For some reason, you've become attached to the kid, even though he hasn't done much for your squad (your compensation depends on team stastics). He reminds you of your own son, Derriq-Pir, recently killed under mysterious circumstances. He's got something inside of him that convinces you completely, almost irrationally, that he can single-handedly win this game, killing the remaining 25 on the opposing team. You've just discovered this light inside of him.

For today, write a speech that will convince him that he is going to win, and suggest to him the best strategies for victories. Incorporate as many rules of the game as possible. And discourage Rumnif-Y from giving in to despair and resignation. Make him fight! Convince him, as you've convinced yourself, of the possibility that this might work out for him.

Send your pep talk to

Some elements of the game, to give you a better feel for the rules:

Friday, April 8, 2011


For today, head to a nearby thrift store. Search through the garments manufactured for the opposite sex. Find one you like. Study it for a while and isolate what it is you like about it and how it makes you feel. Better yet, if you have the scratch, go ahead and purchase it.

Think of the previous owner with as much depth as you like. Imagine the circumstances under which they relinquished the article.

Next, fast-forward through your ownership and use of the garment and imagine its next owner with as much detail as you like.

Your mission is to write a short story wherein the two owners of this item immediately before and after you must join forces and track you down. The reasons for this are yours to decide. If the former owner is deceased, then feel free to get metaphysical. Create some sort of rationale that makes their search for you absolutely imperative. They must search for the figure (you) that connects them. If it helps, involve warlords, C-4 detonators, dreams, time travel, secret pockets, Gods and Goddesses, space things, the FBI, mental instability, Fox News, alligators, Rube Goldberg machines or whatever else gets you through the assignment. It can't be any worse than
Sucker Punch. (zing.)

The epilogue to this story should concern the three of you being interviewed for a New Yorker piece based on this strange, eventually infamous, story. You are exempt from this if you end the entire world somewhere earlier in the story.

Send the story to

Wednesday, April 6, 2011