Three times a year, Eight-Stone Press publishes the award-winning Smile, Hon, You're in Baltimore!, a submission-based literary zine dedicated to collecting the tales of those on whom Mobtown has left her indelible mark. Polished, professional essays; barroom sermons delivered from the sanctity of a favorite stool; the poet's fleeting sentiment, captured in both word and snapshot. A two-time Utne Independent Press Award Nominee, Smile, Hon has also been dubbed "Best Zine" by Baltimore Magazine (2008) and Baltimore City Paper (2004).
Every burg from Richmond to Beantown has some nondescript dwelling in a shitty part of town that can boast "Edgar Allan Poe slept here." But for all his mad vision, the drinking and drugs, only one of those cities can justifiably claim that it killed this master of the macabre, the godfather of the detective story, an all-American original.
Today, its subsidies slashed by a cash-strapped city, Baltimore's historic Edgar Allan Poe House is in very real danger of closing its doors. Consequently, writer Rafael Alvarez has taken up the task of resurrecting a fabled fund-raiser to benefit the Poe House with the hope of ensuring that this literary landmark remains accessible to residents and visitors alike....
BALTIMORE, Md. - Arts & Culture Editor John Lewis praises Hon: Past, Present & Future in this month's edition of Baltimore Magazine.
"Both individually and collectively, these essays get to the heart of the controversy by letting Baltimoreans articulate their feelings about an often elusive and slippery quality that makes this city so special," Lewis writes in the May issue. "[I]n a mere 56 pages, [Hon] reveals more about the fabric of the city than a rambling treatise ever could. And that’s exactly what we’ve come to expect from every issue of Smile, Hon."
Read his complete review here, or pick up a copy of the May edition of Baltimore Magazine, now available at newsstands. Pick up your copy of Hon: Past, Present & Future locally at Atomic Books (Hampden) or Cyclops Books & Music (Station North). Smile, Hon, You're in Baltimore! is an Eight-Stone Press production.
More than 40 people turned out last night, Monday, April 18, at the Towson Library in support of six featured Smile, Hon, You’re in Baltimore! poets, including Hanna Badalova, S.J. Ferrandi, Heck, Sarah Jane Miller, Fernando Quijano III and Dean Smith. The free event was part of the 6th Annual Cruelest Month Poetry and Performance Festival co-sponsored by the Towson Arts Collective and the Baltimore County Public Library. An open-mic session followed the featured artists.
Thanks to all those who read and everyone in attendance for making the evening so special. Also, special thanks to: photographer and Smile, Hon contributor Bill Hughes for showing up to document the evening just a few hours before fleeing the country; Christophe Casamassima of the Towson Arts Collective and the staff of the Towson Library for suffering Smile, Hon with admirable grace; master thespian Alex Hewett for her dramatic interpretation of a Bazooka Joe comic; and especially Davida Gypsy Breier, without whose organization and support stark raving mad naked chaos would have reigned.
In related news, Furniture Press Books has posted recordings of Smile, Hon editor William P. Tandy reading a few selections from his body of work. Listen here.
TOWSON, Md. - Fresh from the bustle of the eighth annual CityLit Festival, local literary zine Smile, Hon, You're in Baltimore! rolls out once more for an evening of Mobtown-infused verse from 6:30 p.m. to 8:30 p.m. tonight, Monday, April 18, 2011, at the Towson Public Library, 320 York Road, Towson, MD 21204. This free event is part of the 6th Annual Cruelest Month Poetry and Performance Festival co-sponsored by the Towson Arts Collective and the Baltimore County Public Library. Featured poets include Hanna Badalova; S.J. Ferrandi; Heck; Sarah Jane Miller; Fernando Quijano III; and Dean Bartoli Smith; Smile, Hon editor William P. Tandy hosts. Want to try your own work on an audience? An open mic will follow. Light refreshments will be served.
A Kiwi friend sent me a package containing a pair of remembrance poppies (in honor of Anzac Day on April 25) and a poster bearing a poem entitled “Becoming Something Other” in which the author, a man named Chris Knox, faces mortality through the lens of his own father’s failing health.Rendering the piece all the more poignant is the fact that, according to the author’s blurb, Knox – “a New Zealand musician, songwriter, cartoonist & critic” - himself suffered “a life-altering stroke” in June 2009.His friends and fans subsequently released a benefit album containing covers of Knox’s music to support him in his recovery.
This struck a particular chord for me as a good friend of mine suffered a massive stroke in late 2008 – two days after his 35th birthday – prior to which he had been in otherwise very good health.He was fortunate in that his mental capacities remained more or less fully intact.However, the physical ramifications are something else entirely, having included countless surgeries, hundreds of hours of physical therapy and the need to completely relearn such basic skills as walking, to name but a few.
We talk on the phone regularly, at least once every week or two.When I underwent chemotherapy for non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma in 2007, he always made a point of calling me the evening following my treatment.He’d ask how it all went, how it was all going, but mostly we talked bullshit: movies, music, stories from college (where we first met one strange and twisted evening after I nearly smacked him in the head with an ironing board).Bottom line, he recognized two things: 1) that quite often, at the end of the day, the last thing I wanted to talk about was cancer, and 2) just how much I truly valued the thought – the genuine friendship.
So, when I received word of his stroke, I had some firsthand idea of what awaited him, at least insofar as the reactions of others were concerned – the initial (and sincere) outpouring of support from well-wishers that would, in time, fade to a trickle once the “novelty” of the situation wore off and a good many of them redirected their attention to their own problems, their own lives.It’s nothing personal – that’s just how it goes.
Though not his only source of conversation by any measure, I’ve nevertheless made a point of talking with him as frequently as possible – bullshit stuff most of the time, more serious matters when they’re obviously weighing on him – being all too familiar with the statute of limitations on casual sympathy.We also share an acute awareness of our own mortality statistically beyond our years.
Still, things are a bit different this time around.When I was sick, he was a picture of health.But for however close to death I came, within a year my treatments were done, my hair was growing back and I was looking forward to making the most at this new lease on life.Today, four years later, I’m the healthiest I’ve been since high school, the only physical relics of my ordeal being a rather small biopsy scar and a tiny pill I take every morning – a very small price, indeed.That said I cannot begin to imagine the uncertainty he must face with the dawn of each new day.
It’s interesting – though I was not familiar with Knox or his music before opening this morning’s mail, such “life-altering” occurrences recognize no synthetic boundaries like Race, Religion, Nationality or Tax Bracket.We’re all fellow patients and, so long as we draw breath, we are all survivors.
So here’s to ya, Knox – good luck, and Godspeed (whatever the hell that means)...
Check out Baltimore-based smut writer (and frequent Smile, Hon, You're in Baltimore! contributor) Sommer Marsden's latest offering, Coming Together: With Sommer, now out from All Romance e-Books! What makes Coming Together particularly special (aside from just that) is that a) sales proceeds will benefit the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, and b) the book includes a foreword by Smile, Hon editor (and lymphoma survivor) William P. Tandy. Learn more here.
And don't miss Marsden's bittersweet look at love and loss on Harford Road in "Dominic's Dead" in Smile, Hon, You're in Baltimore! No. 9 - an Editor's Pick!
Every burg from Richmond to Beantown has some nondescript dwelling in a shitty part of town that can boast "Edgar Allan Poe slept here." But for all his mad vision, the drinking and drugs, only one of those cities can justifiably claim that it killed this master of the macabre, the godfather of the detective story, an all-American original.
