brentley.com

April 2010 marks the 9th birthday of Retort Magazine, and despite languishing by the sidelines now and again thousands of readers still visit for a fix. We started out as a bi-monthly online zine, then started publishing monthly and then in 2004 we threw caution to the wind and started updating constantly, publishing whenever something cool arrived in the submissions inbox. Now, after much planning we have decided to go in the total opposite direction to every other publication and move to print. In 2010, hopefully around April, Retort Magazine will be a published as a quarterly print journal, RETORT QUARTERLY. Currently I am working very hard on the first issue with the accomplished Poets and Editors Adam Pettet (Brisbane, Australia) and Cralan Kelder (Amsterdam, The Netherlands). There will still be a very active website with news and updates, snippets and interviews etc and all of the current content will be archived and accessible for your reading and viewing pleasure. Stay tuned for more…

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Swimming with bow legged Women

Sometimes, when possessed by a craving for an ornate day
my very thinking becomes florid, cursive, prone to rolling my
vowels – dotting my little I’s with a love heart, like an idiot who
rows out in a storm. Other days I am like Captain Quint , and I
give a toast to swimming with bow legged women;

and I am invincible, damn near preternatural, right up until
circumstance with its big fucking teeth tears me in half.

I knew a brilliant philosopher once, circumstance led me to
him. His thinking was molten, unstoppable – until one day
he was found in a cupboard, rocking, punching his own nose
to pulp.

Tragically he has never recovered.

Then Captain Quint comes in and I am pretty damn certain
that I can weather any intellectual storm, and sometimes I see
through the illusion, if just for a minute, at least long enough
to ascertain that doing anything at all is pretty pointless.

Some people are sharks, all you need is a good disaster to
demonstrate this, calculating, solitary unless wanting to mate,
cold, two faced when starving, soulless yet mesmerizing,
unstoppable when goaded for blood. Others are like lions,
svelte, not nearly as loathsome as their counterparts of the
sea, but still to be avoided as they only see you as meat.

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The Psycho-geography of a High Definition Climax

The new technology, the new geography there must be
individuals if our calculations are correct.

Industry in artillery but not in analogy unless for
marketing purposes. She has the manual for self rape
in her suitcase, a spare skin-suit and her prize for
endurance. And written in her schedule the definition
of cynicism, amphetamine and nostalgic photographs
of her children. According to the television predatory
lending led her to this, toxic derivatives that listed
debt as profit, but all that technical mumbo- jumbo

doesn’t change that she now fakes orgasm in porno
for a living; a double DP will buy some Gucci sheets.

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