i like to say i’m not a poet and i still don’t think i am but it’s not because i don’t like poetry (which i still mostly don’t) but more likely because i’m afraid my words won’t be as good as they are when i write other things because when you write poetry every single word matters but when you write a story or a letter you’re able to think softer and hide behind a scene or a fake character that you say isn’t yourself but usually it is and you think the reader doesn’t know that so it’s less scary than writing ambiguous poetry i get some of my best ideas when i’m high and i can never write when i’m high because i can’t articulate the idea as well when i’m high but i know it’s still going to be one of my best because i’m high and, sidenote, i hate that people use the word ‘high’ in reference to all drugs because when i say i’m high i only ever mean pot but when i read certain stories there are characters who are also high but they did hard, scary, addictive drugs that i would neve...
Hey, pals! Due to an incredible influx of acceptances (we're stacked for pubs until AUGUST), we had to temporarily shut our doors. I am delighted to announce we are again OPEN FOR SUBMISSIONS ! We've updated our guidelines; please read thoroughly before sending your awesome words/art/whatever. AND!!!! I am VERY excited to announce a new branch of the magazine! For the first time, Punk Monk is open to review requests! We will be reviewing books, collections, novellas, chapbooks, and microchaps. (Fiction, poetry, non-fiction, art, hybrid, ANYTHING accepted.) Our aim is to publish 1-4 reviews a month. All reviews will be written by me, C.E. Hoffman . This has been a long time coming, inspired by my personal frustrations seeking cool alt lit spaces that accept ARCs for review. Many mags accept pre-written reviews, but won't review works in-house. This creates an unfortunate barrier for authors trying to promote their work....
One morning, around the age of forty, I woke up, and my boyfriend of fourteen years said, "Honey, I have some bad news. I'm breaking up with you." So, I said, "Well, here's some more not-so-great news, you're fifty, and Bigfoot isn't real. Enjoy living with your parents." I met Jack in my twenties at a show we were both doing at a comedy club in Los Angeles. It was 1995, amid the OJ trial madness, which doesn't matter except that we saw Marsha Clark, the lead prosecutor, at a bar later that night which was weird. She has super curly hair, by the way. After that, we made out in my car until the wee hours of the morning, which lead to us spending the next decade and a half of our lives together. For the record, I don't usually make out with men I've just met. Okay, sure, a couple or three times, but a lady can't allow such behavior to become a habit. However, it could not be helped because he was charming, funny, and handsome with big...
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