
Read the post, and all will be explained.
I met the good people of Canteen Magazine during the last NYC LitCrawl, and they were swell. At the time, they had just put out issue #3, which featured words by Porochista Khakpour, Ben Kunkel, Dana Goodyear, Shellie Zacharia, and Lee Klein, just to name a few. You can see thumbnails of the covers on the Canteen website, but they don’t really convey the full story. Canteen is a 9 x 9 full-color magazine printed on heavy-stock paper. It’s filled with art and photography as well as literature. (My favorite thing in #3 was “Returning Thing,” a portfolio of photographs by Martin van de Griendt, from his book Smokin’ Boys Smokin’ Girls, which anyone who wants to should feel free to buy for me.)
Anyway, I just got an email from the Canteen folks, which mentioned among other things, the imminent release of issue #4 (which I have a story in- so full disclosure, or whatever), that they’re going to have a booth at the Armory Show (an NYC art gathering that runs from 3/4-3/7), and this thing about the contest, which is what I thought YOU PEOPLE might want to know about-




God bless Blake for putting up with the likes of me. He truly celebrates diversity of tastes and temperments with letting me be a contributor. I love Cheever. I might love his journals as much as his short fiction. (I like his novels a bit less). Here’s an excerpt, a random one, from near the end of his life, when the world starts changing so fast on us, it dizzies us. I often think about aging and dying and how chaos and destruction eventually win our bodies whole. (Thanks Mom and Dad.) This excerpt is one of many strange and heartbreaking sections from his journals that show his delight in language and confusion as to what our time here actually means: 
A review submitted by national heartthrob 