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ISSUE NO. 17

Hello Friends and Family of Neutrons/ Protons,

 

We have some big changes coming down the pipeline for September and onward. As we celebrate our second birthday (we can toddle!), we are looking forward to bigger and better things. And here they are!

 

° Beginning in September, we will no longer run creative nonfiction in the literary sense of the term. It is not because we do not love creative nonfiction, it’s because plenty of other magazines have that covered way better than we do. We’ll publish the rest of the CNF we have throughout the month of August, and in September, things will be new and different and better.

° Starting in October, we will begin publishing content every week day.That’s all the days that end in “day,” except Sunday and Saturday.

° Also in October, we’ll start printing our (satirical, comical, humorous, poindextrous) literary magazine on PAPER in a MAGAZINE FORMAT every single month. So you can buy it! Cheap.

° We’re looking for ten monthly columnists who want to count themselves as regular contributors. Regular contributors get perks! Do you want to write a column? You can click here.

° We have decided that we are going to be having more cat stuff. Sorry if you’re allergic.

 

That’s all for now. We are unspeakably excited, and can’t wait to expand all around you, like one of those rubbery foam dinosaurs you put in water overnight. (You know. From the science store?)

 

We love you. We are obsessed with you. We can’t wait for our future together.

 

Affectionately,

The Folks at N/P

 

Our featured artist this month is Dmitry Borshch. Dmitry was born in Dnepropetrovsk, studied in Moscow, today lives in New York. His drawings have been exhibited at the National Arts Club (New York), Brecht Forum (New York), ISE Cultural Foundation (New York), the State Russian Museum (Saint Petersburg). You can see more of his work here

Betrothal of the Virgins_Borshch

HUMOR

If My Roommate’s Dad Talked To Him About Consulting Like My Dad Talks To Me About Comedy

by Blythe Roberson

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If My Roommate’s Dad Talked To Him About Consulting Like My Dad Talks To Me About Comedy

 

I have a consulting idea for AstraZeneca!

 

Why don’t you just call up Mitt Romney and ask him for a job at Bain?

 

Do you want ME to call Mitt Romney?

 


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Keeping The Faith

by Alex Ebel

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Keeping The Faith

 

Bette Midler played over the crackling speakers throughout the store – one of her more inspirational albums.

 

“I’m sorry sir, we’re no longer accepting donations today.” A man named Denny held his hand up at eye level, his pinky and ring finger curled slightly, as though in benediction. His name was embroidered in the chest pocket of his red work shirt, “Salvation Army” patched across the back.

 

“I thought you accepted donations until five?” I asked, half knowing already what he was about to tell me.


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Exciting New College Majors for 2015

by Eddie Small

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Exciting New College Majors for 2015

Here at Keegan University, we recognize that today’s economy is changing at an even faster pace than the way our campus administration defines amateur athletics. In order to help our students maximize their postgraduate earning potential, we are pleased to offer the following new majors specifically geared toward the modern job market.


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Excerpts from the Diary of the Former Roommate at the Startup Castle

by Joseph Bien-Kahn

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Excerpts from the Diary of the Former Roommate at the Startup Castle

Earlier this month, there was a minor groundswell after Fusion reported on the lengthy list of requirements for moving into the Startup Castle—the Tudor-style mansion with “everything you need to live and launch your greatest ambitions.” The requirements included 15 hours of weekly exercise, a degree from a top-class college, and an aversion to car commuting. But the list of deal-breakers was much more striking:


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New Year’s Resolution Evolution

by Eddie Small

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New Year’s Resolution Evolution

 

2008: Stop picking nose.

 

2009: Stop picking nose in front of other people.

 

2010: Stop picking nose in front of wife.

 

2011: At least don’t do it when her parents are visiting.


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Out-Of-Office Drafts

by Blythe Roberson

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Out-Of-Office Drafts

 

Thank you for your e-mail. I am currently out of the office. I will be returning Monday, April 20th. For urgent matters please contact Monika Levin.


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Making The Grade

by Dana Perry

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Making The Grade

Every year, for the first two weeks of high school track practice, everyone on the team was mandated to run a mile composed of circles on the country blocks that surrounded our school. I was not a long-distance runner, I was a sprinter.


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I Appreciate You

by Maggie Cloos

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I Appreciate You

 

April 22, 2015

 

Dear Coworker,

 

I noticed this morning that you did not seek me out in the hallway and I fear my behavior last week may be to blame.


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Introducing The Maverick Obsidian Card

by Joe Veix

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Introducing The Maverick Obsidian Card

Hello «firstname»:

 

We’re pleased to announce your pre-approval for the American Express Maverick Obsidian credit card.

 


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Vanilla Ice’s Intro to Critical Theory Syllabus

by Cameron Hunt McNabb

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Vanilla Ice’s Intro to Critical Theory Syllabus

1/29- “Stop, collaborate, and listen”: Barthes and the Reader’s Role in Meaning-Making


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Another angel gave a mighty shout_Borshch

HEART

Hippy Twist

by Michele Hanson

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Hippy Twist

I’ve recently been introduced to acroyoga, which, as you might infer, combines acrobatics with yoga. No trapeze or safety net is required; though, to fly you have only to ask a partner to lie on her back, place her feet at your pelvic bones, hold your hands, and push you up. If you can plank, staying parallel to the ground—and she can maintain stability, keeping her torso and legs at a right angle—then you’re in Bird. Maybe you tried this as a kid; my sister and I did, flying for only a fraction of a second at a time. With some instruction and repeated practice, however, you should get liftoff.


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Consequences

by Jennifer Spadaccia

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Consequences

A butterfly almost died outside our window the other day. It was raining hard, and the roof felt like tiny feet were racing across it. It was the kind of rain you want to drink, rain easily gulped down so that every thirsty pore in your body could be quenched. My eyes felt damp just gazing out the window and when I held my palm up to my cheek, I felt my own tears.


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My Father’s Violin

by Jupiter Diego

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My Father’s Violin

 

From a very early age, I can remember my father assigning me the task of going deep into our attic to retrieve the music stands. They were black steel, and heavy, with a kind of rough texture to them, and it was my duty from the age of eight and onwards to assemble these music stands for his concerts at UCLA’s Royce Hall. There were 30 music stands in all. He conducted the orchestra he had founded, and would continue to lead and conduct for 35 years.


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Breakup Tax

by Christine Giustra

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Breakup Tax

Do I have a broom of my own? It’s hard to say. What about a dustpan, do I have that?  I’m not so sure. Only time and a few more trips to the storage unit will tell. It is neat, having a key to a storage unit; a key to a post office box. These keys are smaller than average, and hang on a small ring, separate from the rest of my keys. They are objects I would have thought were neat to possess when I was sixteen. 


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A Matter of Chance

by Carol Smallwood

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A Matter of Chance

In spring, the seeds from maple trees swirl helicopter fashion as they fall and some days resemble an invasion of butterflies. They’re on my lawn, on my porch, in my garage, on the road to town, and on the sidewalks, on the parking lots in town. Where they land depends on currents of breeze or wind. Did any of the early makers of helicopters study them like the Wright brothers studied birds? There must be others that are carried by air, too; as when I stopped mowing, and some land-assorted trees, shrubs, and grass laid claim.


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How To Treat Chronic Nostalgia

by Bradley Warshauer

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How To Treat Chronic Nostalgia

The Swiss treated nostalgia as an illness, so a Swiss doctor gave the illness its name. He combined the Greek word for returning home with the one for pain and so created a new word that seems perfect until we consider that it ignores the condition’s most terrible aspect: time. Seventeenth-century soldiers left bedridden by their longing for home could be, and sometimes were, successfully cured by a few weeks’ leave, but they could not be transported back in time.


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All In Favor Say Neigh

by Megan Kirby

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All In Favor Say Neigh

When I was a kid, I was really freaking good at drawing horses. My horse drawings will bring you to tears. I obsessively read and reread “Black Beauty,” “Saddle Club,” “The Black Stallion,” and “Misty of Chincoteague.” I knew a lot of horse words, like forelock and withers. My uncle thrifted a huge chest to hold my obscene number of plastic horses, but I mostly left the herd scattered over my bedroom floor where their sharp plastic legs would destroy my bare feet. I dreamt about converting our back garage into a working stable.


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What to Expect When Expecting Sharks

by David Schneider

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What to Expect When Expecting Sharks

I have an utterly irrational fear of pregnancy. Some combination of visceral details, life experiences, and imagined horrors have lead me to become completely paralyzed by thoughts ranging from making other people pregnant, interacting with pregnant women, and even becoming pregnant myself. I think that’s rational. No one else does, and they say that shouldn’t surprise me.

 


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Falling

by Rich Ives

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Falling

 

Sorry.

 

No I’m not.

 

But it’s like this. My father died. And my mother and my younger sister and I didn’t. We grieved. We went through it. More or less as they say you do. Only something was left. Something wasn’t right.


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Which Maps Remain?

by Willa Conway

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Which Maps Remain?

I recently took a trip to Cleveland, Ohio, where my extended family has lived for generations. I stayed the night with my grandparents in their house that my great-grandfather built in 1941, right before World War II broke out. My grandmother’s father loved the property because it was large enough to have a little barn and some green space where he could go riding.


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Pinckney, Valerie and Elizabeth

by Tom Harper

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Pinckney, Valerie and Elizabeth

 

The parking lot of the little professor bookstore is filled with Hondas, Toyotas, Buicks and one ancient beat up red Japanese/American pickup truck (parked crooked).


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The Opposite of Dancing

by Sophie Lucido Johnson

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The Opposite of Dancing

On Saturday I went to a birthday party at a bar on the edge of the Quarter. It was a dance party: the music was loud, and people were drinking; on a stage at the back people tangled yards of tulle around each other like a rave-sized spider web, heads bowed in a boozy euphoria. I had never been to a party like this. I have always been aware of them, but I tend to steer clear of anything that involves close proximity to people, and late nights at bars.


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Song for Sunday Afternoons

by Marisa Clogher

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Song for Sunday Afternoons

We’d sit and eat dinner, three-hour long dinners in which we’d only eat for 30 minutes, listening to you talk about your brother, the way he shoved you behind a refrigerator once and you couldn’t get out for hours. You’d have your hair up in a bun, wisps of curls messily bulging from the scrunchie in your hair.


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Strange But Not a Stranger

by Roy White

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Strange But Not a Stranger

Our meeting was the friend version of a shotgun wedding. It was the summer after third grade, and when my big brothers came to visit, they decided that there was something not quite right about my solitary vacation routine: watching “The Price Is Right” and “The $10,000 Pyramid,” poring over atlases that I had persuaded some adult to borrow from the public library, and throwing a tennis ball against the front steps (I was Bob Gibson mowing down the ’64 Yankees, or sometimes the ’26 Yankees — my steps, my rules).


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Daughters of the Dust_Borshch

COMICS

Superbusy #3

by Brian Fabry Dorsam

Shut Up, Internet #4

by Dave Hotstream

Diablo II

by Mackenzie Schubert