Attention writers: If you’ve been putting off submitting your work, delay no longer. Our reading period ends in nine days—yes, that’s right, nine days—on March 15th at 11:59 pm EST. Or, in the celebrated words of Bertolt Brecht, originally set to music by Kurt Weill in 1927, and later covered by the likes of David Bowie and The Doors:
Oh moon of Alabama
We now must say goodbye
We’ve lost our good old mamma
And must have whiskey
Oh, you know why.
In case you don’t know why, here’s an explanation of our revised reading period. And don’t despair! We’ll continue to post updates, contributor comments, crossword puzzles, teasers, and other such features from our offices at University of Cincinnati, which are remarkably similar in appearance to the prohibition-era brothels and whiskey bars of Alabama. Or so we’ve been told by the visiting Brecht scholar living in the boiler room of McMicken Hall, who, when asked for a pithy remark on the German master, grunted and slurred:
In the asphalt city I’m at home. From the very start
Provided with every last sacrament:
With newspapers. And tobacco. And brandy
To the end mistrustful, lazy and content.
Auf widersehen, Dear Readers, for now.
