ISSUES | spring 1991

13.3 Cover

13.3 (Spring 1991): "The Moment of Liberation"

Featuring the work of E.S. Creamer, E.S. Goldman, C.W. Gusewelle, Michael Glenn and Norman Stone, Jonathan Holden, Margret Kerbaugh, Larry Levis, Ian MacMillan, David Ohle, Pattiann Rogers, Abigail Thomas, and Yevgeny Yevtushenko, an interview with Diana O’Hehir, and the found text of Philip Kolin, and Sir Laurence Olivier. 

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CONTENT FROM THIS ISSUE

13.3 Cover

Nonfiction

Mar 01 1991

The Mortified Man

A rural Lawrence man literally found himself in a mess overnight when he got cuaght in the pit of an outdoor privy at Clinton Lake for nearly eight hours. Douglas County Sheriff Loren Anderson reported that the 26-year-old man entered the restroom shortly before 11 p.m. While he was in the outhouse, more than $200 in cash fell out of his pocket and through the hole in the concrete commode. Anderson said the man took off his shoes and socks and tried to reach the money with his toes, but lost his grip and fell in. Anderson said the man struggled throughout the hot, muggy night to get out of the pit. Dave Rhoades, park manager for the U.S. Corps of Engineers at the lake, said the concrete pit is six to seven feet deep and is designed to hold 1,000 to 2,000 gallons of refuse. Currently, he said, the pit is three-fourths full…

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Fiction

Mar 01 1991

The Parade of Martyrs

I walk behind the whores, who are now too exhausted to complain. Next to me walk two French women who do not talk to me. They are as thin as I am but I am Polish thin and they are French thin, and anyway, we don’t know each other’s lanugages. Perhaps even our lice are now separated this way. Theirs are French fat lice and mine are Polish fat lice. Far ahead I can see SS Hauptsturmfuhrer Kuttner’s half-track swaying in the frozen mud of the snaking country road. For the moment we are safe from Kuttner, whose drunkennesss has wasted him into a kind of sitting corpse whose head wobbles and jerks with the unevenness of the road. It is mid-morning, and we have walked since four a.m. This is our third day marching.

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Fiction

Mar 01 1991

A Tooth for Every Child

Louise, who is pushing down the tall grasses near the land of menopause, accepts an invitation from Mona, who is not that far behind. Mona could use the sight of Louise. “I need a drinking companion,” she says. Louise can hear the twins wailing in the background. “We don’t drink anymore,” Louise reminds her. “But we can talk about it, can’t we? Remember pink gins?” “That wasn’t us, Mona, pink gins. That was our grandmothers.” “Don’t quibble, Just get off the bus at Concord. I’ll pick you up.” “I’ll come Friday. Thursday I’ve got my teeth.”

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Nonfiction

Mar 01 1991

Escape in the Ocean: Slava Kurilov

It happened one unforgettable night several years ago in the Pacific Ocean near the Philippines. The deck was no longer under my feet. For several moments I flew through the air, until I felt the waves parting, gently welcoming me into their embrace. Coming up to the surface I looked around–and froze in terror. Beside me, an arm’s length away, was the huge hull of the liner and its gigantic turning propellor. I desperately summoned up my strength to swim out of reach, but I was held in the dense mass of stationary water that was coupled to the screw in a mortal grip. It felt as if the liner had suddenly stopped, yet only a few seconds ago it had been doing eighteen knots. The terrifying vibrations of the hellish noise went through my body; the screw seemed to be alive: it had a maliciously smiling face and held me tight with invisible arms.