Transcribe
Translate
Jinx, v. 2, issue 1, whole no. 5, June 1943
Page 3
More information
digital collection
archival collection guide
transcription tips
JINX Vol. 2, No. 1 -o- June, 1943 -o- Whole Number 5 JINX is an amateur publication, non-profit, devoted to fantasy fandom. It is distributed free to all members of the Fantasy Amateur Press Association, with a few copies available to outsiders at 5¢ a copy. All opinions expressed herein are entirely those of the authors, unless endorsed in print by the editor. Published by Dixie Press at 2409 Santee Avenue, Columbia, South Carolina. Harry Jenkins, Jr — Editor. LE COMMENTAIRE Best in the mailing: Wudgy Tales, Fan Tods, Sardonyx. We continue to be greatly impressed with the covers that the Ashleys turn out for the FA and En Garde. The material contained in the latter, too, is always top class and wisely chosen for discussional value. The interlineations in Yhos were particularly good this time, we thot. "Weze altyme funna yuze, airt." Our pronunciation of "Etaoin Shrudlu" goes somethin' like this hyar, podnuh: ate'-wan shrrr-d'-loo. Banshee: We don't knowabout the rest of youse guys, but we only thank Foo! that science-fiction conventions haven't been the dry, stiff-necked formal DAR conventions. S-F fans can be serious when they want to, witness the resolutions involving the nfff and others passed at the Denvention; the current discussions of war, and postwar problems now going the rounds. But our idea of a convention conceives such clambakes as have been brought to life in the Chicon, the Denvention and others to come. We haven't had the chance before, but we echo behind Art, Norm and others who broadsided the worst pub that's been in the last three or four mailings —Pogorus. Emerson's oft-printed quotation might go good with the question of Pogorus' condemnation of the CO: "It is easy in the world to live after the world's opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude. ... For non-conformity, the world whips you with its displeasure." FOUND — on page 367 of our American Literature book, from whence came the foregoing quotation. We wrote the following, some time ago: "Seek not the Valley of the Shadows" said the Elder One, but I, whom they have called Enoch would see the valley. For had I heard the strange tales woven by firelight, surrounded by blinking eyes of the night creatures. For had I heard of Kampuri and Slandod, of those two streams which joined to spawn forth the Mighty Ones. Sought I this valley for time immemorial...sought I for three winters and four summers. The snow was white, the heavens white and my soul — a bit darkened by age fled from my perishing body. Frail, withered, body of mine, it left this earth. My soul, alone, wailed with the wild night-winds. "Where, where shall I go?" wailed my soul, but the night-winds laughed and fled. "Bury thyself in the cold of the snow," they said, "and wait." Sobbing, my soul fled into the darkness of the forest, rushing through brush that tore at its fragile tenderness. Ripped, torn, and bleeding, my soul came to a cliff. Tear-stricken, it tossed itself over. And lo! and behold! it fell not upon the death-rock fingers below, but drifting like a feather, whisked over the tallest trees, the highest snow-capped mountains and at last, dropped slowly to the ground. There were shadows that were not shadows, comforting my soul. "Soul," said the night-winds, "you are here." ----------
Saving...
prev
next
JINX Vol. 2, No. 1 -o- June, 1943 -o- Whole Number 5 JINX is an amateur publication, non-profit, devoted to fantasy fandom. It is distributed free to all members of the Fantasy Amateur Press Association, with a few copies available to outsiders at 5¢ a copy. All opinions expressed herein are entirely those of the authors, unless endorsed in print by the editor. Published by Dixie Press at 2409 Santee Avenue, Columbia, South Carolina. Harry Jenkins, Jr — Editor. LE COMMENTAIRE Best in the mailing: Wudgy Tales, Fan Tods, Sardonyx. We continue to be greatly impressed with the covers that the Ashleys turn out for the FA and En Garde. The material contained in the latter, too, is always top class and wisely chosen for discussional value. The interlineations in Yhos were particularly good this time, we thot. "Weze altyme funna yuze, airt." Our pronunciation of "Etaoin Shrudlu" goes somethin' like this hyar, podnuh: ate'-wan shrrr-d'-loo. Banshee: We don't knowabout the rest of youse guys, but we only thank Foo! that science-fiction conventions haven't been the dry, stiff-necked formal DAR conventions. S-F fans can be serious when they want to, witness the resolutions involving the nfff and others passed at the Denvention; the current discussions of war, and postwar problems now going the rounds. But our idea of a convention conceives such clambakes as have been brought to life in the Chicon, the Denvention and others to come. We haven't had the chance before, but we echo behind Art, Norm and others who broadsided the worst pub that's been in the last three or four mailings —Pogorus. Emerson's oft-printed quotation might go good with the question of Pogorus' condemnation of the CO: "It is easy in the world to live after the world's opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude. ... For non-conformity, the world whips you with its displeasure." FOUND — on page 367 of our American Literature book, from whence came the foregoing quotation. We wrote the following, some time ago: "Seek not the Valley of the Shadows" said the Elder One, but I, whom they have called Enoch would see the valley. For had I heard the strange tales woven by firelight, surrounded by blinking eyes of the night creatures. For had I heard of Kampuri and Slandod, of those two streams which joined to spawn forth the Mighty Ones. Sought I this valley for time immemorial...sought I for three winters and four summers. The snow was white, the heavens white and my soul — a bit darkened by age fled from my perishing body. Frail, withered, body of mine, it left this earth. My soul, alone, wailed with the wild night-winds. "Where, where shall I go?" wailed my soul, but the night-winds laughed and fled. "Bury thyself in the cold of the snow," they said, "and wait." Sobbing, my soul fled into the darkness of the forest, rushing through brush that tore at its fragile tenderness. Ripped, torn, and bleeding, my soul came to a cliff. Tear-stricken, it tossed itself over. And lo! and behold! it fell not upon the death-rock fingers below, but drifting like a feather, whisked over the tallest trees, the highest snow-capped mountains and at last, dropped slowly to the ground. There were shadows that were not shadows, comforting my soul. "Soul," said the night-winds, "you are here." ----------
Hevelin Fanzines
sidebar
