It’s not so much the fact that this is the summer issue. It’s the fact that it’s our 12th issue, and we frankly can’t believe we’ve let this nonsense go on as long as it has. Someone really should have stopped us by now. Seriously. We’re waiting. Go get your Toucan nets and stop us.
WAITING….well, since no one has, we suppose we’ll have to be the ones to draw an end to this madness. Wait a minute, this is sounding suspiciously like a goodbye. Don’t worry, it isn’t…yet. But we have to admit in recent months the whole thing has gotten a bit beyond us, especially since we love to pile things onto our lives as if life was an all-you-can-eat buffet; except the worst kind, because you can’t go back more than once. Wow, that was a terrible simile, worst one we’ve penned in a while. Maybe we should get out of this business.
One of these dishes: If you’ve been following our posts at all, you know Editrice Liz finally has a love life. She has no idea why she feels compelled to publish this in her magazine, except for the now-obvious fact that The Toucan took the place of her love life for a long time. Talk about beaks in all the wrong…no, no, we are NOT going there. For the love of God and birdseed, let’s talk about the issue instead!
We conclude “The Villainy of Hamlet”, the epic poem we began publishing in the last issue. If it was a truly epic poem, yeah, it’d still be going, but cut us a little slack, OK? Summer is invoked with “Heat” and “Intergalatic Baseball”, which has got to be more entertaining than watching our Chicago teams suck it up. Perhaps the lack of gravity and air resistance would help them hit? Ryan Mattern sharpens his chops on a new genre, (you may have previously read his stellar fiction in the mag), and love encounters the devil, “Woodpeckers”, and, well, shit. You can see why almost anything would be an improvement over having your love life be The Toucan.
In case you feel the overwhelming need to distract we harried editrices even more, you can always submit! We’re definitely looking for more visual art, perhaps some in color to be published as web-only, and poetry is always at a premium. Check out our guidelines at http://www.thetoucanonline.blogspot.com/, and send said work to thetoucanmag@gmail.com. Now if you’ll excuse us, we’ll go back to making out….whoa, we meant laying out (or maybe making up? Hard to tell) this issue. Awfully Freudian typo, wasn’t it?
Rrrrkkk, rrrrkk….RRRKKK….LIZ….LIZ…
Errr, excuse us. We need to go explain to the Toucan that the romantic relationship and/or snuggle sessions on the branch are OVER.
Happily paired but not together (which would result in the destruction of the city of Chicago, at minimum),
Liz and Laura, Toucan Editrices
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