“Deadlines Scare the Hell Out of Me”: An Interview with Mallory Smart

Mallory Smart

Writers, musicians, painters, and film makers all bring us the human condition through their art.  One might think that over time everything that could be said has been said.  The number of pop songs and poems written about love, loss, anxiety, and dreams is endless.  Yet everyday someone somewhere finds a new way to say what we’re all feeling.  Mallory Smart’s new novel I Keep My Visions To Myself follows Stevie, a musician in LA grappling with success and identity. Over the course of a week Stevie has an existential crisis when her band, Electric Stardust, is on the verge of a life-changing decision. Plagued by past relationships, Stevie navigates life’s path with help from her community. 

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Black Punk Now

Guitar amplifier

Black Punk Now
by Camille A. Collins 

Punk at its heart is a search, a demand, for truth. Beyond the cliché emblems of studded chokers and spiked mohawks lies a creed that has served the angst of young working-class white men in Britian in the 70s; cool east coast girls of the same era, like Patti Smith and Joan Jett; and Black youth. Black tastemakers have been active in punk from the very start. 

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Dmitry Samarov on the Literal Art of Correspondence

"To Whom It May Concern"

Catching up with old friends and acquaintances can be a rewarding experience; it can also be emotionally unsettling, unearthing challenging and painful emotions or reminding you of why you’d grown distant to begin with. In his new book To Whom It May Concern, Dmitry Samarov blends writing and art as he looks back on people he’s known and the letters he did and didn’t send them. I spoke with Dmitry about his new book, how it connects to his other work as a writer and artist, and what’s next for him.

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Sunday Stories: “Jaywalker”

Crosswalk

Jaywalker
by Ravi Mangla

My wife worries about my habit of walking into traffic. We can be stopped at an intersection, the light red, and she’ll have to grab my shirt collar to spare some Uber fare the trauma of being an unwitting party to manslaughter. Whether my incaution is the product of a subconscious death wish or simple absentmindedness is anyone’s guess.

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