Hobart, that rad rad print journal, has tossed more zoom into their online doings. About a month ago, they switched to daily content, some of that same old goodness like fiction and interviews, with new woot-worthy stuff like poetry, food and drink reviews, and movie reviews. A month into this thing, I’m really stoked about how it has expanded, where it is heading. Maybe you will be too?!
My favorite stuff so far:
The important thing is that Pete, the kid who gave me the game, pronounced robots like the name “Robitz” might be pronounced, if it were a name, and I just hated him for it, and we weren’t friends after that as far as I know.
Two Poems by Ben Clark and Colin Winnette
I only think to ask you about dying because I saw the reflected light
as something else. I can tell you would say to carve this new strange light into trains
crossing slow and close enough to shake the dead dusty moths
on the ledge of my window.
A massive plaster moon rotates above the rooftop bar, casting a milky glow over my fellow patrons. One by one their orders are placed. A vanilla bean porter with toasted nut highlights. A zwickel-style lager. A Cascade dry-hopped American pale ale. A cleanly malted and sharply hopped Czech-inspired pilsner. A cloudy hefeweizen with a hint of coriander and a tangerine wedge. When it’s my turn, however, I settle into my stool, look the bartender dead in the eyes, and ask for a good ol’ cool-my-throat, warm-my-insides, and thicken-my-wallet Pabst Blue Ribbon. Soon it flows smooth as a gentle breeze over my tongue, and, in this most idyllic of moments, I realize that after much deliberation and fifteen years of field testing, I am ready to officially and heartily recommend Pabst Blue Ribbon as perfectly fit for human consumption.
Little kids tried to touch me, but their mothers held them back. I took shits wherever I wanted, drank water from the gutters when it rained. I ate trash when it looked good. I started to feel better.
“Lion” up at Hobart. Bonus material for Hobart 14, available to be ordered now: http://www.hobartpulp.com/print_issues/hobart-14
"I’ve set aside some money in the past few months, with no plans for how to spend it. Feels comforting and appropriate, but I also worry I’m not living as fully as I could be. Concerned that I will not be around forever. Who will the money go to? Who will benefit from my savings if my time on this earth is abruptly terminated?"
I wrote some fan fiction for Hobart because they’re awesome.