From the desk of the editor,
Hello and greetings from the Staff of Streets Ahead. Here at the office we have been trying to search out advertising. If you know group, agency, or persons that offer low budget advertising or have directories of publishing firms please feel free to message us (we will qualify for Duotrope Digest next summer).
This past week we have been trying to get a time to meet with our sound tech to put together a radio drama of "The Krumps", but sadly we did not meet our deadline for today. He had several personal issues and then became violently ill with food poisoning (better now), however this meant we will wait till the November issue to post the radio drama. With the time till then we should be more together.
Next week will be a special Halloween issue by my co-editor and I, not to give much away but the words "choose-your-own" will be in the title.
I will be in attendance to a journalism conference in Louisville,
Our biggest news is we have extended the upper word count to 7,500 words for submissions!
Anyway, on with this 3/4 of an issue.
Daniel "Kiddy" Pool
Moss at the Table
By Keith Arron Townley
Somewhere in between the terror of being;
With someone, And the terror of being with myself;
I find myself.
And perhaps if it is true, that as individuals,
We are nothing more than polaroids of memorable experiences Conglomerated, and
scrap booked on top of one another,
Then perhaps it would be better to experience the taste and touch
Of a single finger, as opposed to holding the entire hand.
People, in spirit, are ugly creatures; And I confess to never so much as loving a woman
In so much as I am in love with the idea of her existence.
That such a creature would engage in conversation with a pen artist, would entertain
my company, and perhaps leave me with something she believed to be undiscovered.
Even if such a frontier straddles the boundaries of my complex nature. Leaving me held
together with post it notes and yellowed postage stamps, Things that live existence
out on bookshelves and in closets, Their very value protecting them from use,
possibility overriding practicality;
Until nothing remains but scrap paper bearing the resemblance of some Famed farm
animal or man of the hour, each whose presence only serves as reminder
Of the hour of their purchase.
But, in the spirit of keeping each other at heart's length, and an open mind equal to an
open door, it would appear that an erasure of the equation would be about as virtuous
a task as solving it, in saying that perhaps love should be left to those most willing to
saddle themselves with the thought of it's existence.
Keith Townley is a 23 year old student of history, communication, and psychology at the University of Science and Arts of Oklahoma. He is a "warrior"-poet and part-time philosopher. His previous works are extensive poetry on Myspace and Facebook as well as a work on depression and MMORPG ("WOW Depression").
Thank you for reading.