AUR LitPut III Spring 2023 - From Now To Then
"When I found out about my father’s diagnosis, my first impulse was to light up,” Nalu Gruschkus writes in the opening line of Abnormal Whites and Excessive Blues, her striking piece about her father’s cancer and her own addiction to smoking. In A Bit of Extra Fun, Delaida Rodriguez is
having an unpleasant lunch at a restaurant with her boozy mother. Over a chicken sandwich she has barely touched, she peers into her mother’s jade eyes only to realize with dread that she is more like her than she would care to be. Sam Geida looks back in Friday Night Dinners to the glorious family get-togethers at his grandmother’s house – now it’s only a few of them around the same table, with paper plates and the flat blue and white cardboard boxes of Gino’s Pizzeria.
The stories in last year’s issue of Lit/Pub were mostly about making sense of things as we emerged from our Covid isolation. The mood is more assertive this year. Isabela Alongi’s vibrant cover design brilliantly evokes a world in movement and young people going places. It is a thread we pick up again in Josephine Dlugosz’s delicate musings (Work of Art), and in the short fiction of Scott Cameron and Raegan Peluso (A Song for Mr Solomon and Two-Faced).
The poetry section is especially strong with Gina Carlo’s compassionate trilogy about love and loss and Scott Cameron’s haunting poem about his return to the bleak post-Katrina wasteland. On the lighter side, Lit/Pub spoke to Professor Bruno Montefusco about campus fashion. In the new memoir section, D.P. gives us a tender account of a childhood road trip with her father to Arizona (Snow). And students are traveling again! Emily Chow takes us with her on her intrepid solo trip to Malta.
Rome, May 2023
"When I found out about my father’s diagnosis, my first impulse was to light up,” Nalu Gruschkus writes in the opening line of Abnormal Whites and Excessive Blues, her striking piece about her father’s cancer and her own addiction to smoking. In A Bit of Extra Fun, Delaida Rodriguez is
having an unpleasant lunch at a restaurant with her boozy mother. Over a chicken sandwich she has barely touched, she peers into her mother’s jade eyes only to realize with dread that she is more like her than she would care to be. Sam Geida looks back in Friday Night Dinners to the glorious family get-togethers at his grandmother’s house – now it’s only a few of them around the same table, with paper plates and the flat blue and white cardboard boxes of Gino’s Pizzeria.
The stories in last year’s issue of Lit/Pub were mostly about making sense of things as we emerged from our Covid isolation. The mood is more assertive this year. Isabela Alongi’s vibrant cover design brilliantly evokes a world in movement and young people going places. It is a thread we pick up again in Josephine Dlugosz’s delicate musings (Work of Art), and in the short fiction of Scott Cameron and Raegan Peluso (A Song for Mr Solomon and Two-Faced).
The poetry section is especially strong with Gina Carlo’s compassionate trilogy about love and loss and Scott Cameron’s haunting poem about his return to the bleak post-Katrina wasteland. On the lighter side, Lit/Pub spoke to Professor Bruno Montefusco about campus fashion. In the new memoir section, D.P. gives us a tender account of a childhood road trip with her father to Arizona (Snow). And students are traveling again! Emily Chow takes us with her on her intrepid solo trip to Malta.
Rome, May 2023
Memoir “I need Princess here to keep me safe from all the bastards on this damn mountain. And the bears.” She pet Princess who stood erect at her feet. “Didn’t you bring any other shoes?” She looked down at my tattered sneakers. “We got a foot of snow last night.” My eyes widened and I pivoted towards the door. I lifted the blinds and looked out at the white landscape. Untouched. The snow outside was begging me to come out, to stomp on it, to roll in it, to create a shelter within it; I was basking in genetic memories of winter joy. My grandma reappeared with a parka and snow boots. She wore a size 6 1/2, just like me. 42
Travel Solo Trip By Emily Chao I’m late. I text a quick apology as I weave through tourists milling around Tritons’ Fountain. He responds a minute later: i'm running a bit late too! lecture went long but i’m on my way I wonder if “on my way” means thirty minutes or five as I sit under a tree near the fountain. The wind carries arcs of water past the stone mermen and kids screech as they splash through the puddles. It’s colder in Malta than I had expected, but the air has a salty, humid quality that holds onto the sunshine. Everything about this feels surreal. My neighbor Sofie and I had booked flights to Malta a few weeks ago when we saw roundtrip tickets for $30. White sand and turquoise water for less than the cost of dinner: we were sold. The day before our 6am flight was my roommate's birthday and she begged us to go out. Sofie and I grudgingly agreed but made a pact not to drink. At the second bar though, Sophie ran into friends who offered her free shots. “See you at 3:30 in the lobby!” I reminded her as we parted ways. But she wasn’t in the lobby at 3:30. I tried calling her and she didn’t pick up. I wondered where she was, if she was ok, and desperately wished we had not split up. At 4:15am I couldn’t wait any longer and I ordered a taxi to Fumicino. Malta seemed like a great place for a solo trip. The next hours were a blur. Halfway to Fiumicino, I realized my flight actually left from CIA and it crossed my mind that maybe the universe was telling me not to go to Malta, but I tapped the taxi driver's shoulder and explained my mistake. He laughed, pulled the sedan in a hairpin u-turn, and sped down the empty roads. Ciampino was practically empty and I waited at my gate trying to keep 43
- Page 3 and 4: Table of Contents Editors' Note iii
- Page 5 and 6: Editors' Note "When I found out abo
- Page 7 and 8: Prose Abnormal Whites and Excessive
- Page 9 and 10: Prose strangling me and that all to
- Page 11 and 12: Prose to thrive and live in your mo
- Page 13 and 14: Prose How is it possible for one to
- Page 15 and 16: Prose “You are so lucky to have t
- Page 17 and 18: Prose With one last sigh for relief
- Page 19 and 20: Prose Grandma Jo Ann. Apart from th
- Page 21 and 22: Prose painful unraveling as the tab
- Page 23 and 24: Prose into someone you know — an
- Page 25 and 26: Short Fiction A Song for Mr. Solomo
- Page 27 and 28: Short Fiction of arm’s reach. The
- Page 29 and 30: Short Fiction For truce. Break. Sta
- Page 31 and 32: Poetry I Cannot conquer them all Bu
- Page 33 and 34: Poetry I Acquaintances we were - Lo
- Page 35 and 36: Poetry I Man’s honour. We were mo
- Page 37 and 38: THE LIT/PUB INTERVIEW King Bruno Pr
- Page 39 and 40: THE LIT/PUB INTERVIEW perception of
- Page 41 and 42: Poetry II We turn left out of the d
- Page 43 and 44: Poetry II signaling Christmas Morni
- Page 45 and 46: Memoir Tampa to Pensacola, where we
- Page 47: Memoir lived in a residential neigh
- Page 51 and 52: Travel of the tours I’ve been on.
Travel<br />
Solo Trip<br />
By Emily Chao<br />
I’m late. I text a quick apology as I weave through tourists milling around Tritons’ Fountain.<br />
He responds a minute later:<br />
i'm running a bit late too! lecture went long but i’m on my way<br />
I wonder if “on my way” means thirty minutes or five as I sit under a tree near the fountain.<br />
The wind carries arcs of water past the stone mermen and kids screech as they splash through the puddles.<br />
It’s colder in Malta than I had expected, but the air has a salty, humid quality that holds onto the<br />
sunshine. Everything about this feels surreal.<br />
My neighbor Sofie and I had booked flights to Malta a few weeks ago when we saw roundtrip<br />
tickets for $30. White sand and turquoise water for less than the cost of dinner: we were sold. The day<br />
before our 6am flight was my roommate's birthday and she begged us to go out. Sofie and I grudgingly<br />
agreed but made a pact not to drink. At the second bar though, Sophie ran into friends who offered<br />
her free shots.<br />
“See you at 3:30 in the lobby!” I reminded her as we parted ways.<br />
But she wasn’t in the lobby at 3:30. I tried calling her and she didn’t pick up. I wondered<br />
where she was, if she was ok, and desperately wished we had not split up. At 4:15am I couldn’t wait<br />
any longer and I ordered a taxi to Fumicino. Malta seemed like a great place for a solo trip.<br />
The next hours were a blur. Halfway to Fiumicino, I realized my flight actually left from CIA<br />
and it crossed my mind that maybe the universe was telling me not to go to Malta, but I tapped the<br />
taxi driver's shoulder and explained my mistake. He laughed, pulled the sedan in a hairpin u-turn, and<br />
sped down the empty roads. Ciampino was practically empty and I waited at my gate trying to keep<br />
43