Posts Tagged ‘the review’

The Review!

Posted: November 1, 2014 by thesvuunderground in Tapestry of Life
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The Review is SVU’s literary magazine. Students can submit prose, poetry, lyrics, artwork, photographs, and short fiction! You’ve probably been seeing at least a few posters around campus about it. There are prizes for first and second place in each section: $100 and $50.

So! You should submit things, because not only do you have an opportunity to earn cash, but there’s the very real possibility of publication!

Forms are outside of Durham 309, and the deadline is today at 5 PM! So get out there and submit!

Weave. Tear. Mend.

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Words and Food

Posted: April 3, 2014 by thesvuunderground in Tapestry of Life
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I had you at the second word, didn’t I? Well, keep on reading to find out why!

First off, while our last meeting was not necessarily epically attended, those who did come had a lot of fun! And worked through a number of blockages. (or at least made progress thereon).

Now, getting to the food:

The Review is the literary magazine which all students can submit poetry, prose, and artwork to for possible publication. The new edition just came out this past week! A number of our members got published therein; pick one up around campus~

For fundraising to continue this awesome publication opportunity, The Review is hosting a spaghetti event titled “Pasta, Prose, & Poetry” April 4th at 6:30 PM. That’s tomorrow! For $6, you get a plate of food, and the chance to listen to people share their works at the microphone. If you bring something to share yourself, you get a 33% discount, too! So, you could share your own work (if you want), listen to others’ work, and get pasta!

(The event will only be an hour, though, so don’t dwaddle about getting there!)

Hope to see you there~

 

Weave. Tear. Mend.

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Up-and-Coming

Posted: November 1, 2013 by thesvuunderground in Tapestry of Life
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Fun news! Tomorrow (Nov 2) at 3 PM in Durham 201 we will be having another Underground meeting! We shall be having quite a bit of fun with story-creation, and feeding off each others’ energy, so please come and join us!

Also, in case you’ve never heard of it before, it is time for NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month. Write 50,000 words in 30 days. November is the official month.
Here‘s the site’s blog about it.
If you are interested, we will be having a NaNoWriMo Potluck Writing Day on Nov 9th in Durham 201! Starting at 9 and going til 5, you can come in and just have time to sit and write. Bring some chips or something, and it can also be a potluck.

In other news, The Review just finished taking submissions for next spring, so I hope that you all got something sent in! Keep an eye on their Facebook page for more info.

Weave. Tear. Mend.

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Writing Together

Posted: October 28, 2013 by thesvuunderground in Tapestry of Life
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Our previous meeting was a success, I believe! A number of Undergroundlings gathered , and we created a fine twisting of tales together. We had a timer to allow us to write a few sentences, then pass it along. Our starting theme was locked doors. Here are a few highlights:

Cage

Once there was a Capuchin in a locked cage. He was sad because there was a delicious looking fig on the table next to the cage, and no one would give it to him, nor could he reach it. It was a sad life for a little monkey when nobody gave a fig. And so the little monkey came up wit ha plan to get out of his cage and get to the fig.
He knew his owner always left his coat hangers laying around where he could reach. So, the next day after his owner left, he grabbed the wire hanger. He used the hanger to hook the keyring , and opened the cage. Finally! He was free!
“I will be seeing you lot later – or knot.” he remarked, making a strangling-noose motion as he left his cage.
He didn’t see, but the silhouettes he had talked to were already skeletons. They chuckled at his naivety. Only a while longer and the plan would be complete. It would allow them to continue living, and even take human form for a set while. All they had to do was continue to trick him, and steal his life force. The energy taken would give each around 5 years as a normal human, and 50 years as skeletons. Time was of the essence.
She wasn’t quite sure what to do next. She knew she had to do something, fast, but she was at a total loss. Tears began to well in her eyes, and her breathing became shallow. She was going into shock.
She knew that because someone had put a blanket around her shoulders. Everyone who knew anything knew that blankets meant shock. And still she couldn’t get the day’s events out of her head. She needed an artichoke. That would make her feel better. Or maybe a dancing Capuchin would do the trick? She wasn’t sure. But she did know that she had a blanket and, therefore, needed to be treated for shock.

Memory

I remember the day my father took me out fishing for the first time. We didn’t catch a single fish that day, but as we drove off into the dying light, I saw the piercing gaze of the Loch Ness Monster rising up to meet mine through the rear-view mirror.
That day haunted me for years. Try as I might, I could never shake the image of those eyes nor the strange expression on Nessie’s face. Once in a while, I was struck by a pensive mood and I would think back to that day and wonder what the Loch Ness Monster was doing now. I hoped it was alright. Maybe it had left. I wonder if it remembers me. I may never know. I hope I can go back someday. Who knows; maybe it found a partner and there are now lots of little Loch Ness Monsters swimming around there. I kind-of like that thought. Lots of little Nessies swimming about in the water… Adorable.
Until they get hungry, anyway. I wonder what Loch Ness Monsters eat? The local fish population would take a devastating blow, if they ate only fish… Of course, I don’t live here, so I probably shouldn’t worry about it.
With that in mind, I decided to see what was special about the place. Were there ghosts? Monsters? Demons? I’d soon find out, and become a legend.
I became a legend alright. A legend that added on to the mystery and explained to children why listening to their parents was a good idea. If only I had done the same, I’d be alive. But fate wasn’t so kind to my youthful folly. All too soon, I had died and yielded up my ghost. Now, I could only wait, hoping she would be wiser than I had been. I hoped that she, unlike I, would make it out alive.
After all, who would make bean dips for family reunions, or unlock the back door for sparkplug the dog to chase the creepy mailman? Or win all the bingo games on bingo night, or laugh every time I told that muffin joke? What did one muffin say to the other after…

Crazy Party

The door was locked. Go figure. He was running for his life and the one time he actually needed the doors to be left unlocked the maid had remembered to lock all the doors. He needed what was in that room. He really needed what was in that room.
Luckily the lock mechanism would be no match for his lockpicking skills. Or so he hoped. So he set to work on the lock wit his toolkit of choice: push and shove.
When that proved ineffective, he got out a small lever, then jammed it into the mechanism, hoping to break it. It worked, but only for a moment. Just as he started to relax, the lever snapped and pieces began to fly as it was devoured. The part he held on to launched him forward and, crying out, he slammed into a wall. The wall dented, and he was sure that bones and organs both were broken in him. He slid to the floor, cautiously trying to determine what he had broken before he again attempted to escape. The bone in his forearm was most definitely broken, and he grabbed a nearby rag to make a sling.
That was a good plan until the zombies showed up. Then the waitress from that diner he liked was suddenly behind him. She was yelling something about Apocalypses and how they had to get out of there.
“But my arm is broken!” he yelled.
Nobody cared that his arm was broken. In fact, everyone was so out of it after their wild artichoke party that they couldn’t be bothered to care about anything at all. But desperately he needed someone to care. What if his arm got worse? It could fall off and then what would happen to him?! What would to the arm?!  What if it somehow got a mind of its own when no longer connected to his brain?! Who knew what terrors an arm could unleash on the town! He had to concede that maybe the artichokes were starting to get to him.

Those Eyes

Jason pushed the door, but it wouldn’t budge. He tried the lock again, but it was all in vain. Jason was sure his grandma would kill him, but he just would not figure out what was behind the door. So he went out to shed for the axe. The problem lay in the fact that Jason had never wielded and an axe before.
His first attempt at hefting it up to swing ended up slicing the flower beds. Jason didn’t notice the cold eyes watching from the windows as he swung a second time.Those eyeballs this crazy grandmother kept on the windowsill had never really sat right with him. No matter where he went, he always felt like they followed him.
Suddenly Jason came to a resolution – those jarred eyeballs simply had to go. But how does one to destroy such a thing? If he threw them out, he ran the risk of them being returned. If he burned them, he would have to watch as the flames licked the eyeballs, and that just sounded gross. Suddenly an idea came to him; if a nursery rhyme character could bake blackbirds into a pie, then surely he could surely do the same with the jar of eyeballs. After all, desserts in jars were all the rage these days.Gumdrops in jars, jars of lollipops, jaw breakers, everything. Heck, he even saw ice cream in jars in the frozen section. He just didn’t get the point, and…
Where were all these jars coming from anyways?
Possibly the inter-dimensional wormhole over to the left of one of the cabinets…?
That can be investigated later. For now, what mattered was taking care of business with the apple pie that still needed to be put in the oven.The jars offered nice ingredient choices. This was going to be an amazing apple pie.
Taking a bite, her mouth was filled with flavor. It exploded like a bomb over each taste bud and confirmed the artistic talent hidden inside bakery.
Then the pain started. She couldn’t breathe. Her heart pounded and each breath came in gasps. Her head ached, and then her bone broke.

Appropriate timing for Halloween, eh?

So, our next meeting will be on November 2nd at 3 PM in Durham 201! Come ready to make a story together, using quick wit and some cards.

And don’t forget that if you want a chance at getting published, The Review’s deadline is on Friday November 1st at 5 PM! There are forms outside Durham 309, as well as the box to turn your amazing creations in. First prize in each category is $100, second prize is $50. Sounds like a deal to me, really.

Weave. Tear. Mend.

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