Take yourself to the Annoyance Theatre: your prescription for a dull Tuesday night.

Two With Water is thrilled to be a part of the Preface Reading Series for the Chicago Book Expo, created by the Chicago Writers House Project. We’ve been invited to the stage at the Annoyance Theatre on Tuesday, Nov. 15 at 6:30pm sharp (before two resident improv shows “Chicagoland and Fish Nuts” and “In a World…” take back their home court). In turn, we’ve asked five featured readers from past Rx Reading Series- James Tadd Adcox, Jacob Knabb, Muyassar Kurdi, Josh Sinason, and Mike Smolarek- to present an original piece of their writing centered on the theme “Take Two With Water,” the prescription moniker that serves as inspiration for our literary magazine.

The Preface Series showcases five unique presentations of Chicago-based reading series and the local writers that make them possible. We’re talking some serious literary companions here, including Artifice Magazine, Ear-Eater Reading Series, the Neighborhood Writing Alliance, and Write Club. Find more info about the Chicago Book Expo here.

A suggested $2.00 donation at the door will go toward the imminent printing of TWW Issue 2. RSVP on facebook!

Help Two With Water and Curbside Splendor occupy Beauty Bar, Sunday, Nov. 13 at 7pm.

Methinks thou won’t protest too much to hear our fine line-up of readers. Though protest of all (the literary) kind is most welcome.

Featuring: Julia Borcherts, Bobby Evers, Geoff Hyatt, Tanner McSwain, Delphine Pontvieux, and John Wawrzaszek

Starts with an open-mic. Arrive early to sign-up. Only so many spots available.

The theme this month is TMI –
T(otally)
M(aybe)
I (don’t know)

Featured Readers are:
Ben Tanzer
Lindsay Hunter
Richard Thomas
Brandon Tietz
Gina Frangello
Muyassar Kurdi

Open Mic sign-up starts at 7 pm!

Sunday · July 10 · 7pm 

Readings, drinks, manicures, and open-mic

RSVP on Facebook

You’ll hear from six top-notch writers presenting their spin on our patriotic theme. 

Featured readers include:

James Tadd Adcox, Cristina Correa, Lauryn Allison Lewis, Simon A. Smith, Susan Quesal, & Laura Yes Yes

Read their bios here.

If that’s enough to get you off your over-worked American a$$ this Sunday evening, well, there’ll be drink specials, manicures, and DJ Jeremy Alvarez too! 

Thanks to our reading series partners and friends Curbside Splendor Publishing and of course, the Beauty Bar.

Talented featured readers Mike Smolarek, Susan Fox, Christine Sneed, and Keith Ecker read about Tiger MOMents in honor of Mother’s Day. You won’t want to miss this — they’ve torn up their manuscripts only to have them taped together again and fixed under plastic, then sat diligently reciting their work for hours without even a break for the bathroom.

If we don’t see you lining up for the Open Mic which starts at 7, we might have to burn your stuffed animals, and don’t expect any presents for your birthday, Christmas, or Hanukkah next year.

***tunes spun by DJ Jeremy Alvarez***

Moose had peed on every tree we had passed so far on our late night walk, which was good.  Hopefully he’d be done and have nothing left in the tank.  There were only three more houses left before we were back at ours but it was always Gladys Johnson’s house on the corner that was the problem.  Well, not the house, exactly, but the statue of the Virgin Mary that Gladys had installed on the side of the house next to the sidewalk.  The statue called out to Moose every time we walked past it and he responded.

By peeing on it.

On our morning walks I took us around the block the other way, croseds the street once we got to Gladys’s house, then crossed back just to avoid the statue.  It’s not that I am that religious, but this is a firmly Irish Catholic neighborhood full of O’Malleys and Marys and Patricks and no good could come from Moose’s indiscriminate bladder.  At the same time, he was a dog, and a dog — especially a male– will pee on anything sticking out of the ground.  If there were a jade statue of Buddha Moose wouldn’t discriminate; he’d piss a stream right onto the Buddha’s bulging belly then move on to the next thing he could find.

Gladys had already caught Moose peeing on her pussy willows once and blamed him for their stunted growth.  She opened her front door as we passed and shouted out in her meek, crackly voice, “You’re dog is ruining my bushes.”  She doesn’t hear well anymore so I didn’t bother saying the summer long drought could be what is killing her pussy willows.

Now Moose and I stood on the corner by Gladys’ house.  It was cold, raining and late and all I wanted to do was get back in the dry house so I could watch the end of Battlestar Galactica and go to bed.  There was no way we were crossing the street just to go around the statue tonight.  I tugged on his blue leash and we walked towards the statue.  Moose pulled towards it.  No matter how hard I tugged against him he was headed directly for it.  My only two options were to pull against him and let him drag me there, or just let him run to the statue and do his business.  Since he was a ninety five pound beast of a boxer, I chose the latter.

Moose got up to the statue, sniffed the Virgin Mary in the face like he does every time, then lifted his leg and fired….

…to be continued in TWW Issue 2

The Russian-built Volga sedan carried seven passengers—the usual number—and as Jo crowded into the back seat with three Afghans, she was a little annoyed with herself, wishing she had not been so impatient, so eager to hire the first available taxi. After all, she knew better. It would have taken only a few extra minutes at the taxi bazaar to find a car that was less crowded, and pay for two fares instead of one—an easy guarantee of extra space. It was a trick every Peace Corps volunteer learned by the second day in Afghanistan.

Jo suppressed a small, resigned sigh. It was too late now. Several of the men wrapped bulky chapans around themselves—heavy wool coats lined with thick quilted cotton, possibly to make up for thin drawstring tombans, or the fact they routinely went without gloves in winter. The extra space would have been nice, she thought, as she flattened herself against the door. At best, it was a five-hour drive to Kabul.

The men accepted Jo without question, as if she were one of them, seemingly unconcerned that she was the only woman, and the only westerner in the car, neither awkward in her presence, nor pressing uncomfortably close.

Jo too, was at ease with her fellow passengers—as comfortable as she could be in a subcompact car. At least there was no one in the trunk for this trip, she told herself. No one had pushed his way through the crowded bazaar at the last minute to haggle with the driver for a reduced fare. Jo had seen it happen many times; passengers climbing into the shadowy recess, crouching down, their grins disappearing like that of a Cheshire cat as they grabbed hold of a little handle on the inside of the trunk lid and pulled it down. There were no extra passengers today, however. It was too cold in the high mountain passes and the trip too long.

Jo wore a skirt and sweater in deference to the dress code for a Muslim country, and stuffed a jacket into the small space by her feet.

Unencumbered by the folds of a heavy chapan, the driver wore a wool jacket and simple prayer cap. He slid behind the wheel with a self-assured movement and waited for his passengers to get settled. Talking incessantly, he turned around every few minutes to make sure he had Jo’s attention, and nodded enthusiastically. “Balê, balê,” he said. “Yes, yes, I will get you to Kabul “zud, zud.”

Still talking, he adjusted the rear view mirror, setting in motion the glass beads and a red tassel that hung down as decoration.  Insha’Allah, if God willed it, they would have a safe trip. Turning around yet again, he grinned and raised his eyebrows at Jo. “Shomâ fahmided? Understand?”

The cocky, almost cavalier attitude of the driver made her smile in spite of herself. She nodded.

Satisfied, his grin expanded, and he turned back, put the car in gear and pulled out of the bazaar. With a quick movement, the Afghan passengers wiped their right hands over their faces and beards to disseminate Allah’s blessing.  Yes, if it was Allah’s will, may they have a safe trip….

…to be continued in TWW Issue 2

Before we know who will take over the reigns of our fair city, TWW is asking for your help. Instead of calling you from an unknown telephone number with an automated message, we’re throwing a party featuring booze, literary games, and most importantly a live show by Chicago band Helicopters. Remember to do your civic duty this Feb. 19 and vote with your $5.

Saturday, February 19 @Beauty Bar (1444 W. Chicago Ave.)
7 – 10 pm

7 – 8:00 pm…….Hosted bar and literary games
8:30 – 9:30 pm…Helicopters!
9:30- 10pm…….Raffle, prizes, more
$5 cover

www.myspace.com/helicopters
www.thebeautybar.com/chicago

What did people do before ingesting all that social networking offers today? Oh, right they opened their mouths, moved their floppy tongues, and socialized in-person with the warm bodies in the seat across the aisle, neighbors down the block, cashier at the grocer, or roommate 5 feet away.

Join us at Beauty Bar Sunday, January 9, 2011, 7pm for the next installment of the TWW Rx Reading Series brought to you by Two With Water and Curbside Splendor. Interact with fellow literary-minded souls in the old-fashioned way! Beer breath, awkward silences, and discreet eye aversions included!  We’ll have three dynamic featured readers:

Sharon Bentley

James Kennedy

Leslie Perrine

Like social networking, the Rx Reading Series are free! RSVP on Facebook. (What? We’re using social networking to promote an event possibly de-glorifying  our culture’s latest version of sliced bread? Yes, we think it’s cute too.)

We will be asking for donations going toward the second annual Chicago Zine Fest!

Dear dearest authors and artists,

We would love to feature your ingenious, previously unpublished work in the next issue of TWW. Please review our submission guidelines. Deadline is Monday, January 31, 2011. Although we equally love all you poets, right now we are interested primarily in finding prose, creative non-fiction, comics, and other original work outside these categories. Typically we are not interested in reviews or political/social/religious commentary. We do enjoy literary essays and personal perspectives with a unique mindset.

TWW editors read all incoming submissions. However, due to the large volume of correspondence we receive, we will only contact authors we are interested in publishing. 

Email the editors– amy(at)twowithwater.com and becca(at) twowithwater.com– if you have further questions. 

Love,

Two With Water