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FINAL THURSDAY READING SERIES
Thursday, November 17,
2005 Featured Reader: John Bresland |
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Before the reading, join the Cedar Valley’s longest running creative writing open mic. Signup for the open mic begins @ 7 p.m. on a first come, first served basis. Limited slots are available, so readers are encouraged to sign up early and read your best five minutes of poetry, fiction, or creative non-fiction. Singer-songwriters are also welcome. The open mic begins at 7:30 p.m. The featured reader takes the stage between 8:00 and 8:30 (depending on how many open mic readers there are). After the reading, there will be a brief question and answer session. John Bresland works in radio, video, and print. He has built homes, sold used cars, and translated French video games into English for a living. Currently, he teaches writing. Several of John Bresland’s radio essays have aired on public radio, including NPR’s Weekend America, and his video essay “The Seinfeld Analog” (2005) is being screened throughout the Midwest. His print essay “The Horns You Get” recently appeared in the North American Review, and his commentary appears regularly in Midwestern editorial pages. He is currently working on a nonfiction novel titled “How to Be a Man.” John Bresland's work can be seen below and on his website: http://www.english.uiowa.edu/nonfiction/media/bresland.htm |
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Read Work by Past Featured Readers
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from How to Be a Man by John Bresland Ours was an aluminum Starcraft. It was small and light, and you were likely to see as many of them floating on Lake Michigan as alewifes gone belly up. What set it apart was the 140-horse Johnson outboard—the same engine used to drive double-decker houseboats. Holstered in our little Starcraft, that Johnson was obscene in all the right ways. The guy at the marina refused to install it. He said it would be like strapping a jet engine to a Volkswagon Beetle. I thought, Why not? Why not do that? My father seemed to agree, and did the job himself. On account of the engine’s heft, the boat floated unevenly, ass-down, nose-up, and passengers were invited to ride in the front for ballast. So equipped, the boat’s top speed was unknown, just a tantalizing theoretical number beyond the reach of the speedometer. And that, my father said, was real top speed. The speed you didn’t have the guts to go.
Now Available from Final Thursday Press
Kyrie Poetry by Jonathan Stull
Ghost Wars Poetry by Vince Gotera ***Winner of the 2004 Global Filipino Literary Award for Poetry***
Laugh. Damnit. Poetry by Ahkos
Bad Men Microfiction by Jim O'Loughlin
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| updated November 3, 2005 by Laya Jack |