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Issue 4 Summer
2010
The most beautiful girl in
Pittsburgh rents a loft on the South Side. Every
morning, she buys a bagel from the hipsters at Crazy
Mocha and reads a book at the Beehive. She sits in
the corner, thumbing the pages of Wonder Boys
or The Perks of Being a Wallflower, while
boys with swooping haircuts discuss existential
motifs in Russian literature.
After breakfast, the most
beautiful girl in Pittsburgh waits tables at the
Quiet Storm. Her legs are scarred from the half-pipe
at Mr. Small’s, and her hair smells of smoke, a
heady blend of birch and chrysanthemum, from the
Sphinx Café. From a distance—the fire escape,
perhaps—you can see the flash of a red bandana as
she delivers a bowl of hummus to the scenesters on
the terrace.
After work, she rides her bike
to the Co-op on Meade Street. She listens to Beulah,
or the latest cassette from Green Records and Tapes,
as she fills her cart with gluten-free breads and
fair trade coffee. From a distance, crouched beside
a slatwall display rack of cruelty-free beauty
products, you can see the ohm tattooed on her wrist
as she reaches for a box of granola on the top
shelf.
Monday night is Zumba Night at
the ModernFormations Gallery. Her roommate is the
omozukai for a Japanese puppet troupe, and the most
beautiful girl in Pittsburgh goes dancing while
their apartment becomes a stage for bunraku theatre.
Sometimes, especially if the troupe is rehearsing
for a show at the Garfield Artworks, you can hear
the sound of a shamisen until someone notices you in
the bushes across the street.
*
Two weeks ago, I sat behind
the most beautiful girl in Pittsburgh while she ate
breakfast at the Beehive. She was reading, as usual,
but when I peered over her shoulder, I was surprised
to find that she had moved on from Michael Chabon
and Stephen Chbosky. She was reading a battered copy
of Pear Noir!
*
This issue represents yet
another departure from our usual routine. We still
have a selection of the best in contemporary
writing—consider Chelsea Martin’s “Universal Themes
that Anyone Can Relate To,” for example, or Sarah
Manguso’s “A Woman”—but some of our contributors
this time around are more familiar with a record
sleeve than a book jacket.
Here you will find a short
story by Fred Thomas, the multi-talented front man
for City Center and Saturday Looks Good to Me, as
well as a poem by Mike Kinsella, another talented
musician who is best known for his work with Owen
and American Football. I was fortunate enough to see
both men perform earlier in their careers—Saturday
Looks Good to Me was on tour with Saves the Day and
Kind of Like Spitting, Owen opened for Rainer Maria
and Mates of State—and I would recommend their music
to anyone with a discriminating ear for heartbreak.
It is important to support the
arts: writers and musicians alike. If you are
already familiar with either one of these great
performers, then I hope you will enjoy their work in
a slightly different context. If not, then maybe you
will find something new to listen to on a crowded
bus or in the solitude of your own room.
*
When she was finished eating,
the most beautiful girl in Pittsburgh pulled her
hair back with a red bandana. Then, marking her
place with a ticket stub for Annie Hall at
the Oaks, she smoothed her dress and disappeared
into the foot traffic that lurched along Carson
Street.
Someday, maybe tomorrow, I’ll
climb down from the fire escape. I’ll stand up
beside the slatwall display rack of cruelty-free
beauty products. I’ll step out from the bushes and
say hello.
Contributors
Forrest
Aguirre, Margaret Bashaar, C.L. Bledsoe, Ryan W.
Bradley, Rae Bryant, John F. Buckley, Blake Butler,
David Erlewine, Adam Gallari, Marcelle Heath, Jac
Jemc, Shane Jones, Zin Kenter, Mike Kinsella, Josh
Kleinberg, Meghan Lamb, Stephen Lewis, Kirsty Logan,
Lavinia Ludlow, Shawn Maddey, Sarah Manguso, Chelsea
Martin, Riley McDonald, Ben Nardolilli, Dusty Neu,
Ryan O’Connor, Danny Pelletier, Anji Reyner, Ethel
Rohan, Daniel Romo, Rebecca Scherm, Gregory Sherl,
Fred Thomas, Irene Turner, and David Yost.
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