Hey readers, Copies of noah have been distributed around campus, at locations you might expect to find the Ithacan, and on the Commons, at places such as Buffalo Street Books, Autumn Leaves, Ithaca Coffee Company, Collegetown Bagels, and Waffle Frolic. Let us know what you think!
As I write, three hundred physical copies of noah are being printed. On Friday morning, we’ll be running around the Ithaca College campus distributing stacks of the magazine at places an IC student or faculty member might expect to find publications: the shelves where one finds the Ithacan, Buzzsaw, Kitsch, etc. In the interest of being not just a publication by or for students, but a literary magazine open to anyone, regardless of stage in life or career, we’re planning to bring copies down to a few locations on the Commons. We’re still in contact with locations, but check out Buffalo Street Books and the places you might normally buy books or reading material.
For those who are not local to the Ithaca area, student or otherwise, we’re more than willing to mail paper copies. Due to our limited print run and resources, we can only promise to hold 30 copies for mailing, so if you want one and can’t make it to Ithaca, be sure to send a request soon. If you wish to receive a paper copy, please mail a brief note of how many copies you’re requesting and a self-addressed stamped envelope (a typical “book-size” envelope would be a good choice if you don’t want us to fold the magazine) to:
PRINT COPIES NO LONGER AVAILABLE
We’re certainly excited for Friday — the magazine looks great and contains some superb writing from authors and poets, many — but not all — of whom are from the Ithaca College community. Hopefully the readers and contributors are just as excited to see the final product two days from now — be sure to come back and let us know what you think!
now, i wish that i had left more hints of my existence: a bobby pin tucked in between your floorboards, a strand of my hair inside your pillowcase, a word in my handwriting trapped in the pages of your books. i want her to have some feeling of it when she rests her head in the crook of your shoulder: is that spiteful? i want her to taste on your tongue just a touch, just a shadow of your cruelty. i want her to feel in her bones the quiet ache of my yearning and not be able to put her finger on its source.
just your jawline on the driver of a passing car and i felt my lungs caving, felt my back melting into the leather of my seat. it is then i realize that i have been searching for your eyes in every crowd. just think: some moments our breaths must align.