Austin Downtown
Arts Magazine

February 2001
Volume 7 Number 2

The Boy Who Would Be Achilles poetry by Susan B.A. Somers-Willett

Calling In the Divas poetry by K. Bradford

Carnality TV by Terry Sawyer
It was gaudy synchronicity that Temptation Island even ended up on my television screen. As a lark and an exercise in anthropological slumming, we decided that it was worth a laugh or two. I stand corrected.

Confessions of a Media Junkie by Melissa Flores
My friends and I would get together to have Survivor parties. The show was stupid, but the beer was good and it's just plain fun to whoop and holler and yell at the TV, "Eat the rat! Eat the rat!"

Defining Passion by Neil Coleman
Of all the photographers I have known, few exhibited the passion of Mary Lee Edwards.

Editor's Note by Harold McMillan
Welcome to our passion issue. The idea was to have folks write about whatever they happen to think expresses passion, what they really love -- or hate.

I was a Thrift Store Addict poetry by Rachelle Rouse

Interview with Liz Guenthner by Ricardo Acevedo
Coffee house art is mostly from those slavish to the good old avant-garde of slap paint abstract expressionism or the rude mechanics of constructivist found object neo-gothics. But occasionally, something damn interesting and moving gets hung.

My Arms a Response poetry by John Duval

Notes from the Woodshed by Paul Klemperer
If you put your soul and body into something, you can create a worthwhile and meaningful product. And someone out there will appreciate it.

Slam Poetry by Sonya Feher
The performance of a poem is one moment in time, whereas a poem on a page can be revisited and explored at the reader's leisure.

Sub Rosa poetry by Becki
Up All Night by Harold McMillan
In just a little while the conglomerate mass of the various "minorities" will actually be the composite majority here.

Use This One Instead by Jodi Keeling
Whenever life gets to be too much I find refuge in seeing it all slowly disappear from view.

Verities by Susan Acevedo
Immediately following the Christmas/New Year hoopla, we are hit with pink lacy hearts, cupids and more chocolate than Punxsutawney Phil can fit in his gopher hole. I must ask myself, who is all this crap for?