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Almost two years ago now I stepped off a plane in Los Angeles. I'd just spent a year overseas.
Taking care of a lot of things I'd always needed to, and taking a break from all those things
I'd done too much of. I'd come back with a full notebook and a blank page for starting over.
Walking down the ramp, after 12 hours of breathing recycled air and skin peelings, the first
thing I see, welcoming me back to the country of my birth, is a sign pointing me to the airport
Starbucks™.
'Fuck,' I thought, 'I can't stand this country.' And after several days of being home, I was certain I shouldn't have come back. Plans with friends were going to bits, friends with plans were too. Life found three of us on new years eve feeling very confused and wishing for something else. And soon we had it. One month, several years of Yogesh's angst, my worn notebook and a few drops of John's genius later, Attack of the 50ft Poets was in our hands. In the most American act of all we'd decided to go for it on our own. To act on our desire to bring a little more art in to a world that sorely needed it. Premiere Generation Ink was founded in the same spirit that found each of our parents here on this soil. Something Better. 27 years ago my parents came here and I know their reaction had not been the same as mine. They saw fit to raise a family here, and growing up it all seemed so simple. But now getting to their age, and in the two years since we first dreamed up our little venture, I've found myself becoming more and more upset, more and more certain that things are much worse than they ought to be, and that our mission has at no time been more necessary. Art. Art that's not as complicated and isolated and condescending as it can be. Cheap art. Accessible art. Words, images, and sounds that convey more than they are capable of. Art to make each minute that much more worthwhile. Which brings me to this little piece you hold in your hands. To me it represents what poetry can be, art at its simple, unpretentious, elegant, and most importantly, honest, best. By artists from different spaces and times, representing myriad themes and feelings. So without being too much more heavy handed, I just want to say thank you to anyone who is taking the time to page through our little adventure. Keep in mind that this is just the beginning, and that our aim is higher than merely adding to the collective bulk of small press literary journals. Mostly, I hope that you'll keep coming back to our little corner of the world and find a bit of peace in what turns up. Sachin Pandya December 1999 Madison, WI |