Minus the Spine

Yuck, I have a cold and feel like I’m swimming under water and have not had an original thought for about 28 hours. That is, in between blowing my nose and suddenly being able to breathe and think again. Then it all comes pouring back. Just read some of the fiction entries in the first issue of Hot Metal Bridge. A few of them, I just didn’t have the mental capacity and attention span for, which actually ends up being solid editorial sense. I liked Rose by Bryan Hurt for its combination of the strange and the familiar and the way it’s droll and also earnest… do I laugh with it or at it or are you laughing at me? And then a rose by another name — Gas Station Rose by Lee Capps — was dark and murky, with a slightly frustrating turn of events and an exasperating ending. Anything that makes you feel something through the DayQuil is good.