#CNF

[lamplitmag]

We'd like to take a second to introduce ourselves and say hello!

We'd like to take a sec to introduce ourselves and say hello.

Hello!👋🏻 We're Michael and Jaime!

We've both been knocking around here for a minute but we've made many new friends lately. Funny how that works.

Submissions are open for our Debut Summer issue until April 30th!

Visit us at Lamplit.net (Link in the usual places)

We'll keep a light on for you. 🛋

(I couldn't resist lol)

[regthomas1728]

Today's Prose - February’s Disease

Warning: religious themes, rough draft

            One step forward, one step back, twirl, and dip. Repeat. Hand in hand, arm around my waist, hand comfortably on my lower back—he’s pulling me in. He’s looking at me, I’ll look at my feet. Don’t let me step on his feet. Step forward, step back. Now he’s pushing me away only to beckon me to spin into his arms, I’m against his chest! I knew I’d fall. It was inevitable. I’ve always been a sucker for a patient guiding hand and a man that can dance. Damn the love stories, I cry everytime.

            What’s worse—or probably in my favor—is I wasn’t even in a vulnerable state, I wasn’t in need of a hero, and I had no complex. Here he was, asking if I was comfortable and asking if I needed a breather. The month of love is upon us and—damn it!--the only thing I could smell were roses. 

            Steak dinners, aisles of chocolate, and crushes around every corner. Who likes steak, anyway? Chicken is where it’s at and now I’ve told him. Now I’ve told our friends, and they say we look good together. My momma didn’t raise me like this. 

            “Y’all make a pretty picture.”

            I’m not photogenic.

            “He likes the outdoors.”

            I hate camping. 

            “He’s a Godly man. God fearing.”

            I was raised with worldly ideas.

            He won’t like me, I assure you. My smile is wide and abrasive, just like me. I’m inconsiderate of others, I’m self-serving. I want to be rich one day; I want to hoard it all like a dragon with their treasure, and I won’t spare a cent to the needy. My role model is Ebenezer Scrooge. I’m unusually cruel with the manipulation tactics of Machiavelli. I wasn’t made to settle down with a family, I was made to step on the backs of those less fortunate. I was made to be of the world. I wasn’t made to raise children. 

            And yet. 

            Something is changing. Something in me has found hope. And familiarity. And suddenly, I am the grinch at the end of his story with a heart that is growing three sizes. I can’t contain the adoration; I can’t contain the desire to serve. This---I fear—has been a long time coming. 

            God’s Plan.

            Mentors tell me to role with it. Allow whatever happens to happen. I can’t plan six steps ahead because to follow God’s will I have to let his seven steps happen. Now I have to have patience. Now I have to have faith. That’s the crux of the issue. The issue was never that I was beginning to like someone, it was that God was showing me that I was capable of liking someone. God has shown me I’m capable of yearning for someone and I’m capable of wanting good things. 

            If I’m capable of wanting good things, then to earn them I must first be capable of giving good things. This moment of revelation caught me by surprise but not because I’ve ever been incapable—no, I’ve found myself overcome with that need to serve again. 

Regine Thomas Tumbr Arse | With (His) Spunk regthomas1728@gmail.com

[davisexplainableart]

October 11, 2019 (again):

Kid: Time now for tonight's new episode of Mixels: The Golden Cure, but first...

(TRANSITION)

(pre-recorded footage is played of Mixadel, from the Medivals, sneaking into the studio)

Mixadel: Ugh, such buffoons, they have the gall to invite my immature cousin over to co-host, and not me?

(he enters the studio)

Mixadel: And then they treat him like a king, with a king's robe?? Did those ruffians not realize that I'm way better than him??? When I get my hands on that Scorpi imitator, I will most certainly be having some serious words with him!

(he finds himself on the main Fridays set)

Mixadel: Alright, commoners, listen-... up?

(he finds that even though the studio is decorated for October, no other Mixel seems to be present)

Mixadel: Oh, I see. It's October, so you're planning to jump scare me by hiding. Please, one is not so easily fooled by such trickery. Show yourself this instant!

(no response)

Mixadel: ... Uh... hello?

(he goes down the steps and looks around some more)

Mixadel: Right, I-I see how it is, yeah. You think that I don't have any tricks up my sleeve!

(he realizes that he isn't wearing clothes, so the expression doesn't work)

Mixadel: Uh, n-never mind that... Point is, you may think that you have more power than me. But oh no, I can pull acts of trickery myself, just watch!

(he notices the transporter is active as always, giving him an idea)

Mixadel: Aha...! I'll teleport myself to another location, and I'll be back with my own Halloween tricks. And THEN you'll see who's the better cousin!

(he steps in and sets the coordinates to Endsville from Billy & Mandy)

Mixadel: But of course, the town that houses the Grim Reaper is perfect for stuff like that. (presses button) Cannot wait to see the look on their faces-

*sees a fake spider in the transporter*

Mixadel: W-When th-... when they... they...

*lunges back, dropping the remote*

Mixadel: AAAGH! SPIDER!!!

(he realizes that he dropped the remote, but is unable to grab it before he is transported)

(TRANSITION)

Kid: We take you now to our brand new episode of Mixels: The Golden Cure and "Complete Darkness", right here on Fridays.

================================================

(hey guys, IRL Davis here)

(I will show more of this story tomorrow)

(but for now, all you need to know is that Mixadel is jealous of Camillot co-hosting for Fridays' September 27, 2019 show, so he tries to get back at us)

(also, the reason that no one's around is because the cast and crew were in a different part of the studio, specifically a shot-for-shot recreation of the haunted house set from October 2005, which we would be using for for the rest of October)

(the reason we didn't use it for October 4th is because it wasn't finished yet)

[ladystoneface]

Where I like to think you are

I see her in the sunshine

She wakes me up and her hand is there

Outstretched to me with the warmth she radiates

In contrast to my broken heart

I take it. Of course I do.

Her resting place is a patch of grass

On top of the burning star

That we race around endlessly

The million degrees of fire and heat can’t touch her

They wouldn’t dare.

She visits me in dreams

In the place my mind returns to so often

I see her on the swing furthest north

And her ghost remains.

She comforts me when I unintentionally hurt a friend

She laughs with me until we cry in the back of a crowded room

She’s never anything but kind.

I cross paths with her occasionally

And she stands there beaming

Happy to see me and happy to be.

She leads me to her little garden on the sun

And flowers bloom where her feet grace the ground

Strands of her hair are woven into careful braids

And cascade down her back in the blinding light

We sit and talk of summertime and loneliness

And all the things she’ll never get to do.

She apologizes for leaving and I suppose it’s okay

A chance to walk in the stars

And bring life to desolate flames

Is a destiny that only she could deserve.

I watch the sun disappear into the earth as she did

And reach out.

[unforgivablyshy]

Every so often I’ll wander my school’s library and pick up something interesting. Today I picked up “What Happened to You? Writing by Disabled Women” and I definitely plan on finishing this. It’s an anthology of writing by and for disabled women, and so far it’s made me very emotional.

I’ll save my proper review for once I’ve finished, but so far I would recommend this to anyone who wants to further their understanding of disabled people and our personal lives.

[these-summer-nights-in-december]

Announcing my spring creative writing workshops!

Friends! Announcing my SPRING 2025 poetry and creative nonfiction private online writing workshops!

On Wednesdays, I'll teach "In the Landscape of Contemporary Poetry" 6:00-8:00 p.m. ET, 6 weeks, starting April 16. We'll read recently published poetry from literary journals and books, generate new poems with the help of prompts that I create, and spend the bulk of each class in a fun, inspiring poetry workshop. In this course participants will write and receive workshop comments on five original poems. Writers at all levels are welcome. I teach In the Landscape of Contemporary Poetry often, and every time the readings are all new, so you can take it again and again!

On Thursdays, I'm offering my also popular combination generative and workshop class "Introduction to the Lyric Essay" 6:00-8:00 p.m. ET, 6 weeks, starting April 17. This workshop will usher you into the wild and liberating world of the lyric essay, a popular form of the contemporary experimental creative nonfiction essay. This class is made for both writers who are new to lyric essays and writers wishing to deepen their relationship with lyric essays. If you are a nonfiction writer wanting to engage with this popular form, this is the class for you! If you are a poet wanting to branch out into a new genre, this is the class for you! If you have never written creative nonfiction before, this is the class for you! Writers at all levels are welcome.

Registration is now open, and it closes on Sunday April 13.

😀 Details & registration available http://christophercitro.com/private-classes/. Register soon as spaces fill quickly! 😀 .

[justinrcarter]

Wrote about a show I threw in high school where my best friend got kicked in the throat.

[sadieshavingsex]

portrait of myself as inner monologue of unhinged girl in dark comedy:

Today I have to say to myself many times, “Having sex did not ruin my life. My life is not over. Having sex did not destroy my life. My life is not ruined. My life is not over.” I wonder how many times I will have to say this to myself before I believe it. I think this is the root of my extreme hatred and negativity toward my ex. I feel that by asking for sex and having me actually open up and give him sex, he completely ruined my life. This is the reason I want revenge, the reason I can’t let go, the reason I want him to worship me, the reason I need to kill him. He destroyed my life and took everything from me. That’s the kind of rage I feel. I’m like fucking John Wick after they got his dog.

[writinglittlemagics]

Creative Nonfiction Assignment!

It was Charlotte W’s birthday party, and everyone who was anyone was in attendance. I was invited because we had bonded over American Girl Dolls, so even though none of her friends liked me, there I was. We, twenty punchdrunk and sugar-high nine-year-olds, were running around poor Mrs. W’s house, like bats out of hell. I think she thought handing out party poppers would inspire us to go outside, but all she did was arm us. Now, I’m hesitant to call any third grader dumb, but we weren’t very smart. These party poppers had safety labels on them, and Mrs. W was very clear about how careful we had to be. Of course, the logical conclusion is that these were violently dangerous. We were convinced that the force required to make a popper explode would be enough to blow our fingers off.

I was wandering alone through the kitchen, hoping to find my mom somewhere in Charlotte W’s labyrinth ranch house, when Emma R. crept in behind me. Emma R. was the coolest, most popular, meanest girl in class. I used to doodle her bright red hair curling into devil horns. I don’t know why she hated me, but she did. My things went missing from my desk, she told the other girls not to play with me, and she was overall kind of a twat. I didn’t notice her and kept searching for my mom. I finally found her and called out, but when she turned to me, she pointed and yelled. Emma had snuck behind me with one purple party popper poised like a rifle at an unsuspecting doe. She was holding it up to the small of my back, with her hands already on the string. I lept towards my mom, and Emma ran off crying as my mom scolded her. Looking back, there was no real danger, but Emma R. definitely thought she was going to hurt me, and that’s almost just as scary.

[nerooooooo]

True Narratives are factual transcripts about specific events or experiences that took place often presented in a storytelling format. Its goal is to portray real-life events without any hint of fictional embellishments. Examples of True Narratives are as follows: biographies, autobiographies, historical events, and documentaries.

Testimonies, on the other hand, are a declaration of truth and facts. These are based on one's experience in a particular matter or a significant occurrence that they witnessed first-hand. Testimonies are frequently used in legal settings often by witnesses. Testimonies are also correlated with sharing one's story of religion and spiritual journey in faith.

A prime example of what a true narrative should look like is Mitch Albom's "tuesdays with Morrie."

1.) Introduction - The title of the book is "tuesdays with Morrie" and it is a true narrative written by author Mitch Albom. His story tells us about the reality of death and its inevitability through the life of his professor, Morrie Schwartz. That those who have realized the significance and absurdity of life in this world are guaranteed the certainty of the mystery of life itself.

2.) Summary - The author's purpose is to provide a more-than-one perspective on how a person should tackle on life. One of main points brought up in the story is that we'd bought into society's lie about what a meaningful life entailed, that we fail to take our time to just sit back and enjoy what's most meaningful to us. Mitch also specified Morrie's take on material objects—that it wasn't the nicest television, the latest fashion, or trendy cars that mattered, but the years of love and connection that gave him true joy and meaning in his days. To be able to turn away from a culture that does not make for a fulfilling life, and instead create a new meaning and purpose for us. It could mean spending precious time with loved ones rather than working endless hours that loses its meaning after the job is done.

3.) Evaluation - It seems the author is someone who has truly learned about life's greatest lesson and is eager to share it with the whole world. The words that came from a dying old man who is still full of passion for those around him was able to move hearts and touch souls full of doubts and insecurities of the future. Everyone is just so distracted with their everyday lives so much to the point where we developed a society where everyone is anxious, depressed, unbelieving, and lacked the energy to experience the essence of simple living. Thanks to Albom's masterpiece, we are reminded of what really matters in life. The things that we should hold on to and value with our whole lives. So that we will not be regretful, rather we'll get to experience the blessing of living to the utmost.

4.) Conclusion - I started reading tuesdays with Morrie with an expectation that it would be in someway a tear-jerker, but that turned out to be the understatement of the century. It was successful in making me contemplate and pause multiple times in between the pages of his narrative. I am confident enough to say that this book does indeed has in it, the greatest life lessons one could ever learn. It was able to bring me fresh perspectives about living that I have never considered before. I more than agreed with what came out of a seasoned individual, and I made sure to emulate his teachings in his memory. Overall, this book by Mitch Albom is a book that everyone should read at least once in their life. It evokes for change to happen in a person. It is capable of redefining how people view life in general. Giving more value to the little things and moments in life is what this book found the most meaning in and I could not agree more.

[lamplitmag]

Hey folks, guess what! We're W I D E open and everyone is invited!

Send us the work you love, any genre.

Submissions are easy, just an email, and guidelines are detailed at lamplit.net.

We can't wait to see you guys there!

Cheers!

https://lamplit.net

[itsmealexamabuti]

ESSAY #1

MY UNFORGETABLE VALENTINE

Way back 2023 my valentine was a fabulous for me because i experience the things that I didn't experience when I was young not totally a love one's me and my co churchmates we ge to our to celebrate the special day a valentine's on that event so many activities that they do.

On February 14, my co churchmates planned an event for us they said that they want to celebrate the valentine's that event is not for two people who involved but all of us its about they you connected to your friends or what no matter what on your stage .A Valentine's is like for us to chance what you going to said to your or one's.

On that day all of us are happy because is many activity that they prepared is all about the valentine's they do a confession is like you want to say what you heart said.I was so happy that because I overcome that thing that I'm not afraid to show my heart said to others co churchmates.

It's like they giving a heart to heart talk to show your love and what for your is love Love is not for all people that they love each other love is for us that they want to experience what kind of love I was so happy that kind of Valentine's I experience My Unforgetable Valentine.

[davisexplainableart]

September 27, 2019 (celebrating Jeff Bennett's birthday):

Footman: Ladies and gentleman, the king has now arrived. Please, make way for his grand entrance.

*Buisines begin playing as Camillot, dressed in a king's robe, enters the studio. Me and Chao, as Medival Mixels, are standing to his left and right respectively as we kneel down for him*

Camillot: Good evening, everyone, apologies for being late.

Davis (in Scorpi's body, and speaking in a British accent): Oh, your highness, I believe you have come to choose what Fridays should air tonight?

Camillot: Indeed, I have. Tonight, in honor of Bennett's birthday, I believe it is best to show... um...

Chao (speaking in a not as good, but still decent, British accent): Well, what is it?

Camillot: Well, uh... um... I, uh... Maybe we could... n-no, not that...

Davis (confused): Yes, your highness?

Camillot: No, that wouldn't... er... maybe... errrrrrrrrrrrrrr-

Davis (breaks character; whispering): Camillot, just make a decision already!

Camillot: I-I'm trying. Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh- OH, I got it!

Chao: Well, what is your request, your highness?

Camillot: Okay um, how about we show... we show that one... episode of Twisted World that introduced me into the series?

Shivor (speaking with an online Medieval translator): Oh, isn't that the episode Whither Thou were... stuck in a time loop?

Camillot: Uh yeah, I think so...?

Chao (breaking character): Time loop?

Davis: It's a long story... *gets back into character* But your highness, there will still be 3 more hours of Fridays after that, you must have something else in mind for afterwards!

Camillot: I, uh... I-I'll think of something...

================================================

Sorry this was rushed, I've been a bit... distracted by something...

As you can see, to celebrate Jeff Bennett's birthday, Camillot was invited to choose what aired during the night (at least once he arrived, which wasn't until 8:30pm).

Also, Johnny Bravo showed up to the main studio.

However, you may be wondering why Camillot is dressed in a king's robe, and what "Twisted World" is.

For that, I'm gonna need you to start calling me the King of Unoriginality because I'm almost never able to come up with my own ideas.

The Twisted World of Mixels was a 50-episode series set in a post-apocalyptic version of Mixel Land and Mixopolis, where Nixels have mysteriously become way more ravenous and deadly, resulting in many Mixels dying. Some survived, but they've either been corrupted or twisted (pun-intended), with a few going completely insane. The surviving Mixels have to band together to wipe out the Nixel race.

The series was technically based around an old idea from another user (who's name I will not say) called "Twisted Mixels", except everything that happened was real (we got better dw). I was actually a part of it all, which is why I was uneasy with Camillot's decision.

I'll talk about it more in December.

Secondly, Camillot's robe was from the series that aired after Twisted World ended, first named Mixels 2035, and was later renamed Mixels: The Golden Cure.

Inspired by a discontinued set of stories from Mixel Immigrant Arresto (formerly named Arrestso), this was a 15-episode miniseries that took place in the future, in which Flurr went insane after being presumably mistreated by everyone around him. In the process, he also causes everyone in Planet Mixel to start aging, so some young Mixels are now shown as adults (don't worry no sexual content is shown or implied).

If you anything from the original story (known as Cubit Ball Run), you'd know that certain elements in the show are directly taken from the series Jojo's Bizarre Adventure (i.e. some Mixels having spirits known as stands, Flurr using a mask to turn himself evil, etc.).

With Camillot, he was aged heavily (as well as other Mixels), and is now an elderly king (who kind of sounds like Christopher Lee). He was given permission to wear the robe that he wore for filming of the scenes.

Okay that's all, go away. I'm working on something important (AKA slacking off).

[ladystoneface]

Moon thoughts

Recently, I've been wanting to learn more about astrology and the influence of the natural world in religious traditions. I want to learn more about a lot of things right now—but many of them are in the realms of faith and spirituality. It’s notable to me because believing in a god or gods or the like is not something I’ve been capable of being interested in for a long time.

But lately it’s been calling to me like it’s something I need. I’ve felt atheist for a long time now and so I find it hard to approach the idea of regaining faith, but nonetheless I’ve started feeling a pull toward nature as a potential god—the moon calls me to witness her glory by keeping me sleepless while she shines, my body knows to prioritize rest as the earth makes its yearly tilt away from the sun, the squirrels tell me they need help to survive the cold, the trees keep me safe, hidden.

Out on my porch, I noticed a presence the other night—someone watching? Something? It turned out to be a breathtaking full moon, brightly lit up and reflecting her abundance back down on all of us. For a second, I felt afraid—I didn’t know if she had some celestial plan for the night that I was stepping in on, and, less consciously, I was also remembering those episodes of H2O where the girls lose their shit whenever there’s a full moon.

But she and I just stared at each other, momentarily equals in the night.

I’ve felt more peaceful moments like this recently. Sitting with my guinea pigs in the early mornings, getting to see a few rays of sunset light through the windows at an evening yoga class, the dead quiet that comes along with a thick blanket of snow. I’m writing again and it actually feels good, I’m writing about my trauma and instead of being terrified, it feels like progress, and that makes me want to keep going and see what comes of it all. I’m happy to be able to find things to believe in.

Just now, I looked at my horoscope for the day and Costar told me that the moon and I have something good going on right now. I think that regaining the ability to turn my endless spawn of ideas into cohesive thoughts and tangible concepts recently (I finally sat down and compiled the wildly disorganized concept outlines, “drafts”, emo poems that came to me at you know what time of night, school assignments, and phone notes written after 5+ drinks into my book idea and then began working on that book) is due to a lot of different factors in my life. Having some degree of stability, both mentally and in my *real* adult life has definitely been helpful. Therapy has gone almost extraordinarily well overall this past year—I should get an award or something. Time, too, for healing, growing, getting further away from what hurt me in a measurable kind of distance or quality of memory.

But maybe the moon helped me a little, too. Would it be so wrong if my soul in Pisces, governed by the true force of earth’s only natural satellite, was given a small gift of strength from the merciful cosmos? Am I to continue shaming myself into cold, habitual disbelief whenever I see a cardinal and think of my dearly loved, lost friend? I should think not.

If the moon should be gracious enough to gift me a portion of her powers, I have no choice but to accept open hearted. It is she who makes sure the push, pull, push, pull of my veins.

[hannahthepalindrome]

Lipstick

Ever since I was little, I have been obsessed with lipstick. As young as five years old, I was enchanted by the bright reds, shimmery pinks, glassy corals–almost every color imaginable in a bottle, tube, or jar. By the age of nine, I had memorized the layout of Wal-Mart’s beauty section as I wandered the aisles, gazing at those forbidden tubes. From the sleek black of Revlon to the tempting gold of Milani to the bright, plasticky pinks of Hard Candy, the containers stared at me, tauntingly, seeming to ask “When will you put us on?” as I traversed the beauty section, imagining a future in which I would inevitably wear bright red lipstick every day of the week. 

When I was a child, of course, my mother would have never let me out of the house in real lipstick, so I had to content myself with lip balms. Lip Smackers–particularly Dr. Pepper, Coca-Cola, and Vanilla Malt–were my go-to. Every morning, I would slather my lips in synthetic flavor as I prepared to march out the door on my way to school. I knew that the balm was a weak substitute for the “real deal”, but I enjoyed the flavors and the grown-up feeling of the closest thing I had to real lipstick.

The next logical step in this journey? Lip gloss. My mother finally decided it was fine for me to wear the little kid stuff, and I was thrilled. I loved lip gloss; it was essentially lip balm, but with a much more sophisticated shine (or so I told myself). I wore it all the time…at least, when I had it. I ran out fast due to overuse, and it was usually a while before I got more, so I figured out pretty quickly that I should continue to use my Lip Smackers for “everyday use” and only wear the grown-up gloss on what my young brain deemed “special occasions”. This worked fine, and I was somewhat content to simply wear gloss and lip balm, but I think even then all that I really wanted was a bright red lipstick. As I became a middle schooler, my mom allowed me to wear her plain, nude lipstick occasionally when we went to church, though the color was never as bold as I would have hoped.

Finally, in seventh grade, the day came. While taking me shopping for basic makeup in the fluorescent aisles of Wal-Mart, my mom casually agreed to let me wear lipstick every day. I tried to stay collected as the little girl inside of me squealed and jumped for joy. Laughing at my excitement, my mother selected a more “everyday” color for me: a soft, rusty reddish-brown called Rum Riche. That was the first official lipstick in my now-expansive collection that contains every color I can get my hands on, including my beloved bright red.

The cool-toned bright red in question–Russian Red by MAC–is my current choice whenever I need a pick-me-up, or when I just want to feel fancy. I don’t wear it as often as my other shades, but the compliments abound when I do. Just last week, my gym teacher told me that she loves it when I wear bright red lipstick, because “No one expresses themselves anymore–it’s nice to see young people doing their own thing.” I love this, because to me, that is what lipstick is: an expression of the self, worn proudly on the face. In fact, it is unlikely that you will ever catch me without a colorful product of some sort on my lips, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[these-summer-nights-in-december]

Seneca Review's spring submission period is open!

Hey poets and writers! Seneca Review's spring reading period is OPEN! Send us your words! Send us your words!

https://senecareview.submittable.com/submit