Editor's Note


Today is roughly the one-year anniversary of the death of an old friend of mine—with whom I had lived for several years in Brooklyn during my 20's (a period of my life that ended in 2006). He read Henry Miller, Camus, Kerouac, played guitar in a band, drank vodka and had several girlfriends at the same time and died before he turned 30. He introduced me to Curb Your Enthusiasm, The Chinese Stars, Diane Arbus, Betty Page, Williamsburg, Henry Miller (though my girlfriend may take issue [no pun intended] on this one) as well as some interesting people. In the best of times, we were inebriated and smoking while music blared in the background and our friends enjoyed themselves. Often our extensive quoting of Glengarry Glenross or speculations about the sanity of the butcher downstairs fueled our evenings.

He was Jared McGuinness, and he lived faster and burned brighter in less than 30 years than most people do in a lifetime. Richard Hoffman's succinct elegy from this issue sums it up nicely:

This time none,
not one man,
not one pill,
not one hope
could stop him.

Issue six opens innocently enough with Jon Woodward's toy—a mysterious poem which leads into Pelle Lowe's Spell—and ends with Hoffman's elegy. It's a tour through the landscape of violence, a subtle lesson in horror and a darker offering than anything we've ever put together. I owe a great debt, once again, to an amazing staff. I would also like to recognize the contributions of Karen Neuberg, Don Wenzel and Kevin McLellan.

J.M. Spalding
January 2009
New York