This week’s vintage DB is an artfully ambiguous bit of fiction from writer Dennis Must, which was published in DB 12, Summer 2010. Have a look and you’ll find yourself mulling over “Chet Baker Crosses the Allegheny,” for a long time to come, speculating on the significance of Must’s startling snapshots.
“When the buzzer rang me in…on the landing lay a carmine puddle with a Pall Mall floating at its center.
I’d guessed the owner of the vehicle phoned her minutes before the crash, alerting her to witness the impact from a livingroom window. Stepping out of the of the wreckage, he lit the filter tip as the blood trickled off his forehead onto his cap-toed shoes. The cool, defiant affect as a prelude to his climbing the stairs to her apartment.“
Dennis Must is the author of two short story collections: Oh, Don’t Ask Why (Red Hen Press, 2007), and Banjo Grease (Creative Arts Book Company, 2000), as well as two novels, both published in 2014: The World’s Smallest Bible, and Hush Now, Don’t Explain. His plays have been performed Off Off Broadway and his fiction has appeared in numerous anthologies and literary reviews. He resides with his wife in Salem, Massachusetts. For more information, visit him at dennismust.com.
A little something different takes the stage as this week’s vintage pick, one of the lesser-seen art forms amidst the many pages of Drunken Boat: the comic. Adrienne Celt’s “Desk Job” is a creative use of metaphor to illustrate the sense of lostness many are confronted by when stuck within the strict confines of the quintessential “desk job.” Celt’s comic appeared recently in our 20th issue and is back today to bring you a smile, so click, scroll, and enjoy.
Adrienne Celt is a novelist, essayist, writer of short fiction, and cartoonist living in Tucson, AZ. Her debut novel THE DAUGHTERS was published just this summer by W.W. Norton/Liveright. Her other works can be found in Esquire, The Kenyon Review, Puerto del Sol, The Rumpus, The Toast, The Millions, and many other places. Also be sure to check out her weekly webcomic at loveamongthelampreys.com. For more information about her book and what she’s up to, visit her website: adriennecelt.com.
With the start of the new year, you’ve probably been reflecting on the past a lot already, but if you can spare another moment of reflection, today’s vintage pick is surely worth your time. Coming from several decades ago, this piece appeared first in a book of poems by its writer, Robyn Sarah, and then in our Winter 2008 issue, DB 9. “Pardon Me” is a poem that delves into the universes upon universes of human thought and the implications of what we choose to say, or to keep to ourselves. Enjoy.
“….you do not know that there is a rip in the sleeve of your jacket, and I do not have to tell you because I do not have to mend it. This is not the same as to say that I do not have to mend it because I am not going to tell you it is there, which would be a stall at best.”
Robyn Sarah is the author of several poetry collections, and has also published two collections of short stories and a book of essays on poetry. Her poems, stories, and essays have appeared widely in Canada and the United States, in publications that include The Threepenny Review, The Hudson Review, Poetry (Chicago), and Garrison Keillor’s Good Poems for Hard Times. She lives in Montreal’s Mile End with her husband, photographer D. R. Cowles. To learn more about her, visit her page on the Canadian Encyclopedia.