Shame? No, not shame. I feel only glee in putting the cone to my mouth and bleating to you all that NOÖ  is finally out and that over there is what it looks like. Here is one of those crazy lists to suggest your nudge toward it: shepherds and crosses collaged, feather sisters, tossing phones into the water, animated knife piles, a girl who plays football named Tractor, shadow doves, batshit heroines, sunset cannonballs, peaceful blemishes, new gaps, #FUCKYESOXYGEN, and loving yourself at night. Check it out!
If it’s real sprang sprung where you are—I mean like pensive warm midnight donut strolls with cicadas under your Keds—then you are feeling all refreshed and full of light, which means your brain is in good shape to read some new online magazine releases.
Sixth Finch is bubbling. RIYL science, river walks, cake under bridges, kids doing science on public television, bodies saying something when they’ve had enough of fighting, paper animals, the counterculture of silence, singing into bottles, oxen who think they are cotton, aliens with crew cuts, poison mandrake roots, qualities, the dress you woke up in, car insurance company slogans, felon hearts, intergalactic surfboards, holy slobs, the way every surface can be a cradle, or water in the open knees.
NOÖ Journal is into  after a year’s hiatus. There are book vouchings and a list of every book some chucklehead read in 2012. Read NOÖ  if your back feels like a shipwreck, if you ever coated Omega 3 capsules with peanut butter, if your body used to like swings and probably still does, if you’ve ever eaten Doritos at breakfast, if it cheers you up to think of Benjamin Franklin inventing electricity even though he lived alone until he was dead, if you like staring up at things that can’t see you below them, looking for a man who tells three lies a day, cooking when you get nervous, gazing spiritually toward the Macho Man, taking turns letting and being let down, afraid to fall asleep on buses, your car on fire in the snow, the screen a scroll, kissing like confusion at the supermarket, Treat Yo Self, (feeling you get in a ball pit), talking in a flashlight lit pool, talking later about creepshots, talking about keeping each other when storms come, tracing dead mouths, selling that brain painting, parabolas the shape of manic depressives, your Soul a scrap of lightning, crappy knowledge, searching the floor for a diamond four, stepping into the rain like a film, dying in a fortlike structure, or the infinite pi of sun.
April 10th, 2013 / 10:53 am
What a sweet week for mice who live in walls. Wait, I mean what a sweet week for this pink skull and crossbones wrist thing. Wait, I mean what a sweet week for all these old MTA bus passes I am uselessly collecting. Wait, I mean what a sweet week for new litmags. That’s it. Adam already posted about LPZ, and since I just got in trouble the other day for accidentally double posting about Ryan Call’s Whiting Award, I’m going to stick to a strictly newsworthy diet.
Dark Sky 14 is out! You should read Dark Sky 14 if you like mustached short Siamese women, a family crawling naked from the sea clutching plastic suitcases, counting bullet holes, Burt’s cans of nuts and screws, broken floating, a horse in a Dumpster, seagulls collecting Styrofoam with their beaks, Mars sex, kicking ants, cashmere moons, warbling accountants, smoke that turns into bears and vice versa, and anonymous book reviews where the book itself is the anonymous.
NOÖ  is out! You should read NOÖ  if you like dance-offs, Russian salads, laundromats outside of burnt down malls, people who give you their ADD medication for your birthday, Ivan Lendl nostalgia, Hawaiians with machine guns, fake boyfriends, people who marry houses, confused police, sisters who are boxes of snakes, sisters who threaten you with ginsu knives, pummelhorsing social compromise, meat screams, oysters collected by widows, letters to jailed Lil Wayne, hearts too full of apples and wind, slut bags, triangle booth sandwiches, fucktrys, lung balloons, the bicycle in the wrong part of the neighborhood, the fast snapping motion of a neck during the fickle stages of a swan-dive, whiskey & chocolate, roller hockey coaches, furniture apocalypses, people who swallow entire friends, and eerie floating underwear. Plus one review of one giant book, a book written by a person named Adam Jameson Rod Smith Jennifer L Knox Brad Liening Jennifer Denrow Christian Hawkey Ryan Ridge Dan Hoy. Can you imagine calling for that guy in the doctor’s office? Luckily you don’t need a doctor to read either of these two new issues, but you might need a doctor after them.
The traffic is bad today. Stay home and paint your mustache dusk, lace mustard with cocaine, crash your plane on a beach, fly a goat kite, fight a snow goose, make yourself independent of daylight, or let other people enact these things for your brain eyes by reading the newly-released NOÖ . You can also find out what some people think about books from Dorothea Lasky, Adam Gallari, Alissa Nutting, Ben Mirov, and more. You can look at ghostly illustrations from Christy Call. You can end with skirt steak. You can go home again, Dorothy. Just don’t drive.
November 24th, 2010 / 12:12 pm
You can check out the latest issue of NOÖ Journal today! Work from such beauties as Matt Bell, Mary Hamilton, Ari Field, Bradley Sands, Bonnie Zobell, Loren Goodman, and many more. Stuff about the age of the ebook; The Greying Ghost; chapbooks/books by Dobby Gibson, Carrie Hunter, Jon Leon; a time machine; lots of babies; a spittle bug; a painful breakfast; a billboard of thanks; and more.
Full Table of Contents after the break.
August 16th, 2009 / 10:46 pm
New NOÖ for 09, ladies n gentz. Get at it:
The new issue features prose, poems, art, and otherwise from: Nick Antosca, Deborah Blakely, Vic Cavalli, John Casey, Jimmy Chen, Christopher Cheney, Tanya Chernov, Jack Christian, Bryan Coffelt, Brooklyn Copeland, Michael DeForge, Gabe Durham, Rachel B. Glaser, Evelyn Hampton, Kyle Hemmings, Michael Hsiung Grace Jamison, Mike Jauchen, Greg Lytle, Erika Mikkalo,, Patricia Parkinson, Adam Peterson, Ashley Reaks, Bradley Sands, Peter Jay Shippy, Randy Thurman, Jono Tosch, and Rebecca Volinsky.
Thanks for reading. Print copies coming in ~3 weeks. Let us know if there’s any good spot near you to distribute free literature.
Also be sure to check out Magic Helicopter Press (http://www.magichelicopterpress.com). There are chapbooks from Mary Miller and Benjamin Buchholz available.
We’re going to be sharing a table at AWP Chicago in February with Publishing Genius and Lamination Colony. We’ll have an RC helicopter. Literature of shenanigans. Maybe we’ll see you there.
January 2nd, 2009 / 2:06 am
Okay, this is complicated: ADD is Attention Deficit Disorder, and the acronym spells ‘add,’ and so, people with ADD are to do two things: 1) read the name of the following journals all the way through by 2) adding the letters following the addition sign. You may ask, ‘what is the point of this shit?’ to which I reply, ‘fuck off, I’m a contributing writer.’
I don’t no much about this journal, though they seem somewhat negative. I can imagine their rejection letter: No
From our very own M. Young and R. Call, this is a beautifully designed journal featuring the hard hitters of online lit today (R. Lopez, T. Lin, B. Butler, K. Spitzer, N. Cicero, C. Smith, et al). The Germanic umlaut is Mike’s way of saying ‘I’m am the fuhrer.’ The black and white logo reminds me of a cow. Noo Moo.
At 12PM sharp everyday, Diane Williams orders a latte and biscotti and sits down at a café and opens submissions. She has an engraved letter opener which reads “e-mail is for a-hole.” Once, she came across my submission and used it for a napkin. ‘Kiss me,’ my story said, and was ignored.
There’s something about being really smart and living in NYC that makes people who are either not as smart or not living in NYC feel like shit. Every time I see the photo of the editors in their apartment/office, burdened by the implications of their formidable ideas, I feel obsolete, pathetic, and stupid (I will admit, alot of that is my father’s fault). If you look closely at the clock, you’ll notice it’s 12:30PM, half an hour behind Ms. Williams. She downed the biscotti and is off to zen camp. ‘Kiss me’, I said to those guys, and they said, ‘the comma goes inside the quotation mark.’ Choads!
October 24th, 2008 / 1:34 pm