On a late spring day, when he was four or five, his teenage uncle, and his uncle’s friend, took him into a dark shed behind Grandmother’s house. From inside the shed could see shafts of light entering via chinks in the wallboards. He saw Grandmother’s yellow saltbox house, the blue fir trees along the hillside. They held him bent over. He could hear meadowlark song. He cried out. The world stretched thin until it tore.

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The TPR Stream
Stanley Kubrick Shoots New York By The Editors

Back in the 1940's Stanley Kubrick was just a kid with a camera and a gig. What he would end up doing with that camera would re-imagine what was possible within visual media. His work on the gig was a little less known, but nonetheless revealing. Quite simply, he shot New York. 
Labyrinths of the Heart By M. M. Adjarian

M. M. Adjarian writes of her attempts to fill her father's absence by earning the approval of her male teachers. This is a tale of poetry, a teenage girl struggling to find herself, and one teacher who dared to quietly cross an invisible boundary and encourage a burgeoning writer. And it is, too, an exploration of the wounds we carry and the unexpected ways in which writing can heal both the writer and her audience. 
Tom Cruise Silences Bar Full of Drunks with Poetry By The Editors

You know that certain point of the night? Yeah, that one. When a few of “those guys” start getting a little too drunk and ruin a good time for everybody. What if there was some way to soothe their fractured egos and return the bar back to a peaceful equilibrium so you can talk to that blonde and maybe hash out a few Journey tunes on the jukebox? Tom Cruise, the world’s most famous Xenu enthusiast, has a way. It’s simple. Use terrible poetry. 
Read Albert Einstein Warn about Israeli Nationalism in the New York Times By The Editors

Proof that criticism of Israeli policy is not tantamount to anti-semitism or the dissolution of Israel itself. 
Roots of Varhol By Anna Hupcejová

Almost every year I visit my family in East Slovakia, an area often referred to by Slovaks as “out there.” Despite the negative connotations of this reference, it is a beautiful region with crystal streams, starry nights and picturesque valleys and meadows surrounded by forests. Historically it was part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, and geographically, it is in the Eastern Carpathians. Even though it belongs to modern-day Slovakia, the people here are different. If I should characterize them in three words, it’d be that they are very loud, religious (Greek-Catholic, interestingly) and, most of all, proud.
George Carlin on Our Similarities By The Editors

The field of creative writing has seen its changes through the years. It's only in the past century or so that writing has laid down with the somewhat forgotten art of the oratory to form that particular babe known as stand-up comedy. So, in celebration of the similarities between the arts and us all, we present George Carlin breaking down our commonality in a way only he could.
Whatever Happened to Parker Marlo? By Megan Lewis

This is the story of a name. My name.
Ten Thoughts from Imre By The Editors

Ten thoughts from the legendary Hungarian writer and winner of the 2002 Nobel Prize for Literature.  
In Fatelessness: Kertész’s Gyuri and the Search for Real Truthfulness By The Editors

Fatelessness tells the story of a fifteen‑year‑old Hungarian boy as he journeys across, and comes to grips with, what some Jews now refer to as the Shoah. In many ways, it is the story of the book’s author Imre Kertész, a Hungarian‑born writer who suffered a similar fate under the Nazis. It is a harrowing look into the journey of an adolescent through a species‑defining tyranny.
A Fever Dream in the Key of Eat Me By Christian Fennell

“When you fish for the glory you catch the darkness too.”

- Sheila Watson, The Double Hook

Too Soon By Simi Kamboj

You will never know the joy of watching your children grow, of settling into your thirties beside the man you have loved.
Are Writers Assholes? A Study in Three Parts (Or, Stop Whining and Just Write) By Sean Hammer

Three recent occasions have me thinking about the writing profession and “writing professionals,” however one might go about defining said pros. I’ll give a wide-lens definition here
Four Minutes: Time Lost By Nathan C. Zackroff

I met a man who once said that the two minutes before sleep, and the two minutes after you wake, might as well be lost time. I disagreed. I told him you get quite a lot of thinking done in that time; the moment where your mind is fuzzy and the world around you rearranges itself. 
What’s in a Name? By Rudy Ravindra

My father named me Rabindranath Tagore. The thought did not seem to cross my father’s mind that the literary giant of India might turn in his grave at this blasphemy. 
Gaza, England By Adam Blanden

It was not a need for anonymity that led marchers in London this Saturday to draw their keffiyehs to their faces: the intense heat was enough to get even this seasoned crowd a little damp at the brow. Thus was this most hallowed of revolutionary commodities assigned to more prosaic needs as hundreds of hot protesters daubed their foreheads and dried their faces. 
Tuesday Throwback: Billie and Abel's Strange Fruit By The Editors

There are few things we at TPR enjoy more than Sundays, sun beams and Billie Holiday. Preferably, we like to combine all three with a mimosa and a tightly wrapped “cigarette” of our particular choosing. Sunday remains so far away. Billie Holiday’s rendition of Abel Meeropol’s Strange Fruit, however, might just be strong enough to compel us to spend a Sunday morning on a Tuesday afternoon.
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