Random Robot Attacks!

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“Rubber and roboted, all a control lotted, not one decides “it” for itself,” writes Chicago-based artist CJ Hungerman in a poetic description of his Random Robot Attacks, an ongoing collection of vibrant paintings and sculptures that feature small, cartoonish bombs—robotic projectiles—that Hungerman uses to represent the primal core of humanity.

The attacks may be random, but for Hungerman, the message is clear: humanity is on the verge of self-destruction, or is, at the very least, facing an existential crisis of apocalyptic proportions.

Hungerman discusses his energetic and thought-provoking work with Gadfly.

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Return of the Followers of the All

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Created by James Rubino in 1986, Followers of the All was conceived as a seven-issue mini-series that was first published as an “underground” comic in 1988. In the early 1990s, Rubino suspended publication and decided to rewrite and redraw the entire series. The first of these stories was published last year in a new series titled Archives of the Alien.

“I intended Followers of the All to portray my perception of the direction our world and our society was heading in,” says Rubino. “At the time it was originally released it seemed fantastic to some. Not anymore.”

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The Trumpet by Gil Fragoso

“The music is dead, Johnny.” Johnny looked surprised. He took a sip of beer. It caught him off guard. Johnny rose his breath in protest. “It never dies.” “I seen it die.” Johnny couldn’t really argue with that. He grabbed the pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket; he took one out, patted the filter against his wrist and brought it to his mouth. He lit it and leaned back …continue…

My extraordinary bourgeois personal cause célèbre by Matthew Harris

     Adulation commencement began at birth and continues to this April 10th, 2012!      Ever since initial debut (jumble of skinny arms and legs sliding and slipping out the womb) on that unforgettably brutally cold January 13th, 1959 unusual fatuous fanfare arose for this common male! An arduous and complicated denouement purportedly contributed to subsequent feckless inchoate misdeeds. The frenzied feeding fame unparalleled in the annals of any mortal! …continue…

I Know You’re Still Smiling, You Can’t Help It by Fletcher Young

I’m not sure that anyone sane mourns you. Not the people of the city, or the commissioner and his wife, or Angel Rojas, or the oracle, or Ra’s al Ghul, but I know John Crane does, and Harley, and I know I do. I’ll never forget the morning when Alfred walked up to the table where I ate steak and eggs with a side of wheat toast, and he laid …continue…

After Firing the Shot by Conley Lowrance

AFTER FIRING THE SHOT             for Paul Verlaine The dirt beneath the stones is filthy & frantic. The branch cast on the ground sweats slowly in the grass. Static radiates from windows with a harsh hum as cats howl—celebrating my success. O Lucifer—life here is so winding & cruel. These sounds in my ears no longer come from my lips. But I know what I’ve done, …continue…

Mythology from the Real World by Gary Siebel

A photographer’s eye with an artist’s mind, creating mythology from the real world. Gary Siebel’s pictures are inspired by real-world scenes and locations, and then artistically rendered to express his inner vision. Using both painting and photography, he gives the viewer a beautiful interpretation of what can be from simply what is, turning what is real on its head. The image of Death among the trees began as the statue …continue…

Bleeding Through Reality (Let The Fiction In) by Melissa R. Mendelson

We are held captive to Reality. We cannot escape it. It blares from the radio and screams from the television set. Imagination is slaughtered under nonsense and pop stars, the grapevines of gossip that twist us until we burst. We want to know, and we don’t want to know. And when we want escape, to forget this dismal world that breaks our backs, we do not want to tune in …continue…

On Being Alone by Helen Alston

The house is empty except for me. I move slowly, remembering myself—this is the way my neck falls into my shoulder, arm, wrist, fingers. Here are my legs, still pale after long exposure to England’s sunlight, slow-summering. These are my lungs, filling, settling. After five weeks in the constant company of friends, I have forgotten the length of my own hair, the dent in the bridge of my nose, the …continue…

My First Taste of Road Rage by Melissa R. Mendelson

Tango of the Road Rage Drivers began on Yahoo! Voices with my first Road Rager on Long Island in 2004.  We were turning on Veterans Highway, heading for the Northern Parkway when this driver, whoever they are, decided to let loose and go Road Rage.  They didn’t know me, but they did everything to try and kill me.  And the stories from 2004 to 2011 now became a self-published book …continue…