Call for Submissions! We Still Like GRAVITY

Are you, like us, suffering from post–We Still Like Issue 1 symptoms of withdrawal? Do you feel irrevocably drawn to the next issue? Submit! We insist! That funny feeling in your tummy is not just a hangover — it’s the inescapable gravitation of a compelling work of future literary astonishment; it’s the weight of your brilliant ideas. Just as all matter wants to get back together — like a bad reunion tour or a reenactment of the Big Bang — we want you to crash into us (Dave Matthews, ironically, being the one exception to this rule). Consider We Still Like the black hole into which all your good ideas will fall. And now that we’ve sucked you in...

Let’s talk about gravity.

Don’t think about all that stuff weighing on you. Don’t think about work. Don’t think about school. Don’t think about love. Don’t think about why you’re here or how you feel about that. Don’t think about anything at all. There. Feel it? That’s the breeze. That’s the end of summer. That’s the earth turning the day into night. That’s the planet swinging like a tether ball around the sun. That’s the balance between stillness and motion. That’s gravity.

Gravity is also all of those other things — work, school, love, mountains, phases of the moon. Gravity is everything everywhere, all that we don’t or can’t think of. Don’t think of it! But don’t fight it. It’s what keeps you in your chair, what anchors you, what is constant. Whew, it’s heavy! It’s what attracts you to the people and other planetary masses that swirl around you. It’s what you orbit. It’s all those unseen natural forces that you’ve been taking for granted.

Let’s talk about dark matter and the way pencils roll off tables and onto floors; let’s talk of apples falling from trees, astronauts peeing into tubes, the myths of Newton and Sisyphus, the momentum of falling, levitation and suspension of disbelief — let’s talk of all that we revolve around, spinning orbits through Oakland, Allenstown, Silverlake, Park Slope, home.

You can write about any or all or none of these things for We Still Like Gravity. As always, the requirements are slight but important: We don’t care if it’s poetry or prose, rants or raves, photographs or ephemera, criticism or catharsis. Make something true. And don’t fuss over it too hard. Email your submissions to WeStillLike@gmail.com. And, so that we can figure out just how much this next issue will weigh, go ahead and write to let us know if you are planning to send work our way. We hope to hear from you!

Here’s to Gravity — all that is heavy and beautiful, all that is meaningful, all that pulls us together,
Sarah & Chris