<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<rss version="2.0"
	xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"
	xmlns:wfw="http://wellformedweb.org/CommentAPI/"
	xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/"
	xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom"
	xmlns:sy="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/syndication/"
	xmlns:slash="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/slash/"
	>

<channel>
	<title>Two Hawks Quarterly &#187; Non Fiction</title>
	<atom:link href="http://twohawksquarterly.com/tag/non-fiction/feed/" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml" />
	<link>http://twohawksquarterly.com</link>
	<description>A Literary Uprising</description>
	<lastBuildDate>Mon, 05 Dec 2011 21:57:56 +0000</lastBuildDate>
	<language>en</language>
	<sy:updatePeriod>hourly</sy:updatePeriod>
	<sy:updateFrequency>1</sy:updateFrequency>
	<generator>http://wordpress.org/?v=3.2.1</generator>
<xhtml:meta xmlns:xhtml="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" name="robots" content="noindex" />
		<item>
		<title>Biography for Mother’s Family Photos by Mishon A. Wooldridge</title>
		<link>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2010/09/20/biography-for-mother%e2%80%99s-family-photos-by-mishon-a-wooldridge/</link>
		<comments>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2010/09/20/biography-for-mother%e2%80%99s-family-photos-by-mishon-a-wooldridge/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 20 Sep 2010 23:30:01 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>aulapress</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[2010]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Creative Non-Fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Fall]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Antioch Literary Journal]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Antioch University Literary Magazine]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Memoir]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Mishon A. Wooldridge]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Non Fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[NPR]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Two Hawks]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://twohawksquarterly.com/?p=4242</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[&#160; I need a camera, to my eye, to my eye, reminding which lies I&#8217;ve been hiding &#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160; -Wilco, &#8220;Kamera&#8221; Many of my pictures are copies of my dad&#8217;s photos. Others were given to me by friends, or posted to their facebook accounts, but the majority are my own, for I am interested, like many others, in visual documentation of my life. &#160;True, I am a terrible photographer; however power lines and beater cars in the foreground of a sunset shot never stop me from remembering exactly how I felt when I stood there with the camera in the first place. Memories can hide, they build webs connected to smells or songs, they show-up totally uninvited during dinner dates, or dance before our eyes late at night when we&#8217;d rather be sleeping. To acquire a defaulted storage unit is simple: the crowd gathers, the units are opened one by one for viewing, the auctioneer begins somewhere around $50, the price flies up fast. Without looking in any boxes or handling any furniture, the purchaser buys the entire contents of the unit. After the foreclosure of her home, my mother packed my brother&#8217;s and my childhood photos&#8212;probably her own as well&#8212;into [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2010/09/20/biography-for-mother%e2%80%99s-family-photos-by-mishon-a-wooldridge/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>JC Jaress: Three Immeasurables</title>
		<link>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2007/11/03/jc-jaress-three-immeasurables/</link>
		<comments>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2007/11/03/jc-jaress-three-immeasurables/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 03 Nov 2007 00:30:39 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>AULA Editor</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Creative Non-Fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[JC Jaress]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Non Fiction]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://aulapress.com/2007/11/03/jc-jaress-three-immeasurables/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Three Immesurables * The boy grips and re-grips the bat. He cannot remember if he is any good at baseball. He remembers playing in a summer league when he was eight- or nine-years old. He played centerfield, which, at eight or nine, is the equivalent of saying &#8220;Please stand over there so you don&#8217;t get in the way.&#8221; Very little happens in centerfield at eight or nine; occasionally, a lazy ball rolls over second base and into the tall grass of the outfield where it stops and lays waiting to be picked up. He remembers standing at the plate and swinging aimlessly at two pitches. He remembers the fielders creeping in on him knowing that if he even contacts the ball it will be by chance. He remembers running the bases as their centerfielder gave chase to the ball that somehow had taken flight from his bat. But that is all he remembers. He never plays baseball again. Now, he turns the bat anxiously in his hands and re-grips it. It is a small bat. A child&#8217;s bat. At thirteen he has barely outgrown it. He has not yet enjoyed the next summer when he will grow five inches. He [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2007/11/03/jc-jaress-three-immeasurables/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Deborah A. Lott: A Family Dictionary</title>
		<link>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2007/08/11/deborah-a-lott-a-family-dictionary/</link>
		<comments>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2007/08/11/deborah-a-lott-a-family-dictionary/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 11 Aug 2007 22:21:46 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>AULA Editor</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Creative Non-Fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Antioch University]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Deborah A Lott]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Deborah Lott]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Non Fiction]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://aulapress.com/2007/08/11/deborah-a-lott-a-family-dictionary/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[A FAMILY DICTIONARY* Selected Definitions, with Annotations * Every family, though it may appear to speak the language common to the culture in which it resides, develops an idiosyncratic vernacular of its own. Stuffy (adj) Definition 1. describing an atmosphere that lacks the free flow of air; stagnant. May be marked by an odor, usually of unknowable origin. Implies the presence of germs. May be dangerous to the sustaining of life; uninhabitable. The father could deem an environment “stuffy” as the result of any variety of causes: an irritant or vapor in the air: mold, mildew, lingering cigarette smoke in a carpet or drape, cooking odors in a kitchen, or in the absence of any aural indications, even by visual cues: the absence of sunlight in a narrow hallway, a window that appeared to be sealed shut; the fading of an antique rug that suggested the passage of time, the presence of dust. Stuffiness was not just an aural phenomenon; it affected all of the senses and, even beyond its sensory impact, could produce more generalized effects. Hotel and motel rooms had a propensity for stuffiness, as did other people’s houses, particularly houses in which older people, particularly sickly older [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2007/08/11/deborah-a-lott-a-family-dictionary/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Adelaide: Alistair McCartney</title>
		<link>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2007/08/11/adelaide-alistair-mccartney/</link>
		<comments>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2007/08/11/adelaide-alistair-mccartney/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 11 Aug 2007 18:23:18 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>AULA Editor</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Alistair McCartney]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Antioch University]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Non Fiction]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://aulapress.com/2007/08/11/adelaide-alistair-mccartney/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[&#8220;Adelaide&#8221; is an entry from The End of The World Book by Alistair McCartney, an encyclopedia of stories and memories and obsessions, forthcoming from The University of Wisconsin Press, March 08. A ADELAIDE For a long time now, Adelaide, the capital city of South Australia, has been known as the city of churches. The ratio of parishes to citizens is slightly alarming; everywhere you look you see a spire or a steeple grazing the sky. In the 1970’s, this moniker was replaced by one of a more sinister nature. A spate of abductions, rapes and murders of young boys led to Adelaide being dubbed the city of boy killers. Delicate corpses were found in champagne crates. Politicians were involved. Yet for me, Adelaide is the city of my mother, the city in which she was born on New Years Day, 1928. Sometimes, my mother dreams that once again she is back in Adelaide, and the world has ended. She wanders through the city, whose ruins are still smoldering, hot to the touch. She finds herself back at the house in which she grew up, but the house is gone; nothing remains, except for the long porch that wrapped around the [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2007/08/11/adelaide-alistair-mccartney/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>April Fitzsimmons: Cartwheel Soccer</title>
		<link>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2007/08/11/april-fitzsimmons-cartwheel-soccer/</link>
		<comments>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2007/08/11/april-fitzsimmons-cartwheel-soccer/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 11 Aug 2007 16:19:58 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>AULA Editor</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Creative Non-Fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Antioch University]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[April Fitzsimmons]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Non Fiction]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://aulapress.com/2007/08/11/april-fitzsimmons-cartwheel-soccer/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Cartwheel Soccer After he dumped me, driving away from Los Angeles was like yanking my hand away from a hot skillet. I climbed up the I-5 through the grapevine and past the sign for Andersen’s Pea Soup. I’d always wanted to try that soup, but there was no more time for lollygagging through the countryside. There was a time when being alone on the road would have scared me, but my heartache trumped my dormant concerns of hitchhikers slashing my throat, prisoners on the run, flat tires and freak snowstorms. I was a woman alone in the world. Childless, mateless and freefalling towards forty, I was officially a veteran of failed relationships. I was a love flunkie. I stopped at a Denny’s just south of Fresno. I felt safe at just about any Denny’s in America. I’d moonlighted there in my early twenties and knew they had decent standards and predictable food. The last thing I wanted was a case of the runs to ruin my elaborate plan. A grilled cheese sandwich on wheat always made me feel better until I turned fifteen and then I continued to order it partly out of habit and partly because I wished to [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://twohawksquarterly.com/2007/08/11/april-fitzsimmons-cartwheel-soccer/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
	</channel>
</rss>

