The Publishing-Editor of Weekly Hubris was once upon a time joined by a plethora of diverse international authors, poets, artists, humorists, musicians, athletes, photographers, and commentators of various stripes, driven by diverse creative and ideological demi-urges, to bring . . . “more light” to readers scattered across the worldwide web. (Hence our overall title, which derives from the life’s work of the late, great Titan, Prometheus, whose exploits were undertaken for the greater good of humanity. Hey, without quite a little hubris, we’re nothing, zip, nada, tipota.)
Our contributors, over time, have comprised a self-proclaimed-Wordspinner-cum-puzzle-master; a perpetually and passionately outraged British barrister; an expatriated and ex-urban poet-politician; a playwright-cum-Reiki-Master; an Aikido-Sensei-cum-cartoonist; an itinerant, literate gastronome (our Fabulous Foodie); an adventure-prone, journeyman technical writer; a Deep-Fried-Southern Austen & Autobiography enthusiast; the eternally-pissed-off F. Theresa; men of books and much more from Alaska and North Carolina; a financier fled from the Halls of Mammon (“The Money Whisperer”); one of the foremost contemporary poets of America; a trumpet-playing martial artist devoted to The Prophet; another trumpet-playing musicologist fond of the open road (and fries with it); a photographer/masueuse from Santorini; and Elizabeth, who writes about her vida loca, mortality, “politicks,” and her Deeply-Southern family of origin.
. . . and the archives of all these writers will be preserved here, in virtual space, while WeeklyHubris endures as a publication.
However, because the publisher, the publisher’s husband, their trusty webmaster, and the -zine’s financial angel, F. Theresa Gillard, have shelled out rather big bucks to keep this publication afloat over the past six years, The Not-So-Great Depression has necessitated the (we hope temporary) shrinkage of WeeklyHubris, and the offering up of work by only those willing to shoulder part of the load: as a result, we are now, willy-nilly, primarily an archive, with a new Monday morning offering posting (three to four contributors) if and when someone finds a spare penny in her or his shoe.
Be that as it may, and however you arrived here, you are most welcome to return, whether your interests run to First World lunacy; living with encroaching wildlife; major psychiatric disorders as expressed by close family members; Aikido, Iyengar Yoga, or Mixed Martial Arts; verbal stylistics for stylistics’ sake; the efficacy of Reiki; a cat named Xerxes; crème brulee and taramasalata (not served together); the infallibility of the Pope; the words of The Prophet Muhammed; sex in middle and old age; the inexplicable and eccentric alter egos of human body parts; the legacy of the great Plains; Cycladic architecture; drinking in Thrace; and/or tilling the garden in winter, whether in Elko, SC or Ikaria, Greece.
Come back weekly. We’ll be here. Some of us. Soldiering on. Stealing a little fire from the gods. For you.
Oh. And SUBSCRIBE, dern it. Fill out the form. Now. It’s free, risk-free, and you’ll receive weekly alerts as to who’s written what for any given Monday’s issue.
Read Weekly Hubris. It’s one of the lesser-known paths to enlightenment.
Namaste, Y’all! Geia Hara!
Publishing-Editor, Weekly Hubris