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Editor's Note
“Love is the answer,” Woody Allen said, “but while you’re waiting for the answer, sex raises some pretty good questions.” While little shocks these days, it is curious what brings men and women to their knees. We happen to agree with Woody Allen’s kindred spirit, Gertrude Stein, who wrote “Literature—creative literature—unconcerned with sex, is inconceivable.” Certainly, we cannot conceive how the stories of Denis Johnson, “Xmas in Las Vegas,” and Mark Jude Poirier, “I, Maggot,” won’t leave you stirred, shaken, and reaching for a cigarette. If, however, they don’t lift your skirt, Charles Simic’s libidinous poems coupled with artist Howie Michels’s marvelously bawdy drawings (suitable pin-ups for the intellectual set) are guaranteed to set your pulse a gallop. There’s also a healthy, red-blooded dose of first-person reporting from the trenches of love. Go with editor-at-large Elissa Schappell as she dons a raccoon suit and delves into the sexual sub-subgenre of “furries” at a furrie convention. So turn the page, go ahead—don’t be shy. We won’t bite, unless you ask us to.