Fall Dispatch

The Equinox Is Fair. The Slam Was Not.

On September 21, Literary Nights held its first Story Slam We borrowed the format from the best in the business. If you've heard The Moth, on the radio, in a packed theater, through your headphones on a long drive north, you already know the shape of the night. Names go into a hat. Names come out of a hat. Ten storytellers, chosen by nothing but random luck, take the mic for seven minutes each, and the audience decides who told it best.

We gathered at the turn of the autumn equinox, that hinge of the year when the planet briefly deals in perfect fairness: day and night measured out in equal parts, light and dark each given exactly their due. For one turn of the Earth, the universe splits the difference.

Ten storytellers read; one left with $300. Congratulations Summer Disney, Grand Poobah of Literary Nights’ Story Slam.

Manifesto Destiny was Destined to Manifest

Scenes from July 27, 2026: we explored what it would be like if we gave up growth at any cost for just one night with Adelaide Blair’s latest conceptual anthology, “Manifesto Destiny.” We would not try to maxx anything. We anti-maxxed. Which, surprisingly is not minimal at all. We had a lot to say. We rotted, we waffled, we snorted and extorted each other for new expansions.

We allowed growth to happen naturally, and decayed too, as the night went on.
We ate chicken fingers.