ein spiel

hey, i am thinking about starting an online literary magazine and I was wondering if any of you writers and artists would be willing to donate some of your work for publication and such cause i want more things on there than just my crap.

i haven't done anything with the site yet so i wont give you a link but once i start putting things up and getting things going i'll send it out and such. I will keep all the writers updated.

right now i am looking for everything: Poetry, fiction, nonfiction. Artistic Photographs, drawings, photomanipulations etc etc.... since it's new there really wont be any real guidelines but i do reserve the right to not publish something i dont see as 'quality' work and such....

but send whatever in... and don't use the excuse that 'it's not good enough' fuck that. let me read it.

later, i am hoping to get some writers that are constant contributors to the magazine but I will always be looking for new voices.

email me if you are interested at: redeyedfrog787@yahoo.com

i really hope to hear from you guys. Don't puss out on me.

Ae.

1. I'll respond with something random I like about you.
2. I'll tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.
3. I'll name something we should do together.
4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me (or just me).
5. I'll tell you my first/clearest memory of you.
6. I'll leave you a quote that is somehow appropriate to you.
7. I'll ask you something that I've always wondered about you.
8. If I do this for you, you must post this on your journal so you can do the same for other people.

I saw life this weekend at six-thirty in the morning and you know what he said to me? "Damn it." What the hell does that mean?

..... 0 block... she was walking around the computers, her shoes clacking across the linoleum floor like a horse was walking around in classy shoes that was going to come at me with a machete. I thought I was about to die.

the fog was thick this morning. The cars loomed out of it like black blobs zooming across the intersection. The headlights looked at me like demon eyes. Death is in the air.

I hate the smell of everyone in this room. It smells like heat and cold. Dust.

i want to go home. Tuesday is terrible.

mother fucker, go kill yourself.