SWAY PRESS VOLUME ONE
inspired young, supple Lucas. Watching the door with ‘SWAY’ on it told Lucas to
follow his dream. Typically literary journals start out with this sort of
thing. Ian Dick Jones helps Lucas to achieve his dream. Brought together
through a simultaneous desire to love and fuck art school, SWAY was born. It is
the hope of these young gentlemen that SWAY is able to bring light to the
darkest corners of the internet, where anonymous online presences lurk.
Michael-Edward Davenport lives a mild and lazy life. Hanging around watching
Seinfeld repeats, his routine is fairly typically. Poor dude has to go out
under the orders of a friend. What happens is he can’t finish ‘The Missing
Piece’ about a circle looking for its missing piece. Normally circles without
pieces are info-graphics used in power point presentations. At the party things
get heavy. The whole ‘feeding energy’ thing is typical of insane-type parties.
Generally parties feed off energy. In this case poor dude is constantly dying,
being reborn as the exact same person in the exact same moment.
‘crumb-bum’ named Wes. For some reason Wes talks and mostly confirms what a
terrible person he thinks he isn’t. Conversations with her parents go
considerably better as she is able to extract money from her parents. Wes gives
her precious little besides grief. Wes heads up a band that has been
‘moderately successful’ for a decade, aka he’s a musician able to afford the
West Village. By the end of the diner Wes fails to redeem himself but that’s
mostly because he’s terrible.
Strobber knows two things in life are certain: the Yankees will keep winning
and people will keep on dying. Both things are bad in varying degrees. On
Christmas day Ian sleeps in for a deep meaningful dream. While hanging out in
his dream as an abstraction of himself he speaks to another abstraction, this
one of a friend. He tries to kiss this someone on the forehead but this is
where the dream ends. Microwaves can conquer sadness. Unfortunately though Ian
fails to mention how long sadness needs to be kept in the microwave.
Bool recalls the tale of Danny, a man out of tune. This happens. This happens
in sad motels with the TV on. Static can overtake the room eventually. Danny
tries to inhale the fumes of others. He wants to beat the songs of others in
his heart. Yet he can do neither. He’s trapped inside of himself.
Case dyes her hair a lovely shade of purple. Ben encourages this behavior.
Together they explore the empty space of a suburban house. Pictures exist of
someone else, someone Ben does not know. Using her olfactory sense, Mairead
determines the mystery woman is licorice. Retired colors are colors from
another time when things were different, prettier, and more eccentric.
Dixon rudely awakes others with blueberries. Inside of boxes are the contents
of a special someone. People pack themselves up in boxes all the time. Moving
tends to do that, to force that. Someone pretended to know her because that’s a
perfectly unsuccessful way of flirting, to feign ignorance. Eventually blood is
attempted to be drawn yet nothing comes out.
Parobek describes a nightclub that is taking over Louisville. Famous DJs follow
it on twitter. That’s a sign that either the nightclub is enormously successful
or that the nightclub should spend less time on twitter. Social media is no
substitute for social interaction. Even that is cleaned through chlorine. The
Rindal wants to hate. Her heart does not allow it. Instead she misses. When
someone is gone forever there is no way to speak to them again. Permanent means
just that. Despite the amount of time the smell of the person lingers on the
pillows. Salvation remains hidden from view. Little new information is going to
change any of that. Even religion changes nothing. Ff there is a heaven that
might change everything.
change in his friend, George W. Bush. Things have been different between Mason
and George ever since George took masturbation to the next level. Yeah little
pictures are one thing. Literally jerking off across America, which is what
George W. Bush did over the course of eight years, that’s a very bad thing. No
matter how bad America gets it doesn’t deserve to get ejaculated all over.
That’s simply unpatriotic.
isn’t over. There is another part. No one review can possibly contain whatever
is happening within these mad pieces of work. Poetry, stories, and delightful
dastards, the whole thing is exploding at a rapid pace.