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HAL’s Mad Tea Party: One Lump

Tea.

The British love it, the Americans throw it into harbours, Canadians put maple syrup in it, and the Chinese most likely invented it. Whether you serve it with one lump or two, tea has always been “steeped” in history. It is mysterious, sexy, dangerous, and deadly. A lot of people seem to have a lot to say about tea, which is why we here at H.A.L. have devoted an entire groupthink to this most noble beverage.

Sit back, relax,  pour yourself a spot, and enjoy…

Danielle LeClerc – Chinese Tea and the Bone Cup

Ginger wRong Chen – A Perfect Cup of Tea


Mongolian Hooker Knife Fight

by W.M. Butler

Photo: Allenying.com

The bar girls pulled out cleavers out from behind the bar. Obviously a mistake had been made, there was going to be bloodshed.

Hans, the CEO of UniCore was in Shanghai. The man had the uncanny ability to work fourteen hour days, learn Chinese, run a multi-billion dollar operation dealing with metals for cellphone components for all of Asia, and yet he found the time to drag me and my uncle Ross — who was the manager of the company’s mainland China branches — into three day sessions of debauchery. We would not sleep in between these “adventures.” We would finish one night of getting wrecked, have a shower, drink a Red Bull, go to work, then meet up to do it all over again.

Continue reading…


The Box

By W.M. Butler

This place is horrible. I can’t have my baby here. Please don’t let me have my baby here! John! Please! — It’s OK. It’s OK. — No, you’re right, you’re right she makes it more beautiful here. Look at her eyes John they’re so brown and her hair, it’s black just like yours. Her fingers and toes John, all there and so wonderfully pink — John.

“…John.”
“Mr. Mori?”
“Wake up.” Continue reading…


Featured H.A.L. Artist: Matthieu Lunard

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The Third Chopstick

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The Third Chopstick
A short story by Danielle LeClerc

To: annelsmith@hotmail.com
Thursday, May 13, 3:22am
From: Walt.is.cool@gmail.com
Subject: 489 Wanping Street

Dear Mom,

Here’s some pics of the new place, not bad eh? A 2 bedroom downtown for
$700, you wouldn’t even get half this in Prince Albert.

And how about that view? Pretty great, eh? I’m not saying I don’t miss
seeing the Esso station across the schoolyard from my bedroom window, but
this is Shanghai. The stove’s a bit weird, the only setting it seems to
have is “inferno”; unlike the shower, which has 2 settings: inferno and
arctic, but I’ll figure it out.

 Turns out it was a piece of cake getting the place, the agent set
everything up and sent a really nice girl named Jenny to help me out.
She’s really sweet, you’d like her. Anyway, I’m officially settled now, so
you don’t have anything to worry about. And yes, I’m eating well, they’ve got
this thing here called “Sherpa’s” where they deliver really good healthy food
to your house pretty much any time of day.

Don’t worry about me. I’m 34, I’ll be fine.

Say hi to Dad.
Love,

Walter

* * * Continue reading…


History of a Future

Renée Reynolds first appeared in Party Like It’s 1984 and, because she is just so darn talented, we decided to include her in our new book. This second publication from HAL is a collection of short stories that are all about the bad things that make life in China kinda worth it! Sadly, you don’t get to see inside the book yet but if you check out Renée’s wonderful poem below you’ll know why she’s in the new book! We think Renée’s poem is almost as keen as Renée herself!

If you’re like us and can’t get enough of this girl’s awesomeness then check out the rest of her work on HAL as well as her new story Satellite American on Unshod Quills.

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By Renée Reynolds

Old people walking backward
Posing brides in funeral white
Styrofoam swan feed
Root-ward growing treetops
Million-dollar watches that don’t keep time Continue reading…


Author Spotlight: Miodrag Kojadinovic

H.A.L. is proud to present Miodrag Kojadinovic, one of the many great authors appearing in the follow-up short story collection to Party like it’s 1984. With HAL’s first collection you were given a look at life behind the bamboo curtain. Now, HAL wants to show you a different side of life in the People’s Republic of – namely, what goes on beneath the sheets and behind locked doors. All the naughty bits. This November will mark the release of the new book, along with another amazing launch party that will rival last year’s glamorous bash at River South. So get ready for dirty hook-ups in the Shanghai Metro, funny money, grifters, sex with big plastic bags, and, in Miodrag’s case, questionable activities involving bunny rabbits! While you won’t get to see the actual stories from the book until the release, we can give you a little taste of the talent.

Without further adieu, here is a sample of the excellence you will see in the new book!

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Miodrag Kojadinović is a Canadian-Serbian dual national, poet, prose writer, journalist, translator, interpreter, and photographer. His 200+ pieces of writing have been published in English, Serbian, Dutch, Russian, Hungarian, and Slovene in Canada, Serbia, the US, France, Russia, China, England, Holland, Slovenia, India, Croatia, and Montenegro and he has appeared in three documentaries shown at festivals (of which one was specifically about Kojadinović). Continue reading…


News: Unshod Quills releases Issue Two 9/15/11

Superman Down - Photography - Jillian Brall of Unshod Quills

We at HAL are happy and proud to inform you that our sexy sister site in Portland has released the second edition of Unshod Quills, containing art, fiction, videos, and more; all the finest in hip literature in pandemic format. A good amount of HAL authors are including in this issue (you remember the China-US cross-writing exercise we did at Groupthink? You see people, there’s a plan with everything we do, promise!), look out for Jason Lasky, Lucinda Holmes, Ginger wRong Chen and Catherine Platt, just to mention a few. Oh, and your favorite HAL editor debuts as a photo artist. In all modesty as always, needless to say. Big congratulations to Dena and UQ, HAL loves ‘ya!

B. Continue reading…


The Empty Map – Part II

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Artwork: "Anatomy of a map" by Renée Reynolds

By William Ellis

At last, I said, “What secrets do you have to show me?”

She laughed: “No secrets, really. These are just a few things I have kept since I was young”.

“How much younger can you get?” I was pushing her a little, now.

“I mean”, she went on, without missing a beat, and still smiling, “from the time when I was a little girl, maybe six or seven years old. There is nothing special, but every time I see you, you always say that you are curious about how I lived”.

She opened the box on her lap. Inside, was a large plastic envelope, of the kind that can hold sheets of stationary without folding, and two smaller boxes: this was China after all.

She slipped out the large envelope first, and took from inside it a neat pile of shiny, brightly colored papers. They were small, a few inches across, rectangular, and, creased. Some were a solid color; most were multicolored, with vivid patterns of bands and waving lines.

“These are candy wrappers”, she said. “My sisters – my girlfriends – and I used to collect them. We would unwrap them very carefully so that they wouldn’t tear. We would spread them out and press them flat; we wanted them to be as smooth as possible.”

She set the papers on the tea table, then opened one of the smaller boxes. Inside were miniature plastic spoons that were not much longer than a toothpick: at one end, each had a tiny scoop; at the other end, each had a little molded shape: a horse-head, a body of a fish, a coin, a sun, a star, or some geometric design.

“We collected these too. They came inside another kind of candy. This was a kind of powder in a plastic package about the size of a matchbox. We would shake out the powder into our mouths. Each package had one spoon. I liked the spoons much more than the candy.”

She set the box on the table. I thought that I knew what she was doing: she was allowing me to inspect, against the poverty of her early life, her childhood yearning to find and keep safe some elements of beauty in the empire of drabness that is China.

Continue reading…


The Empty Map – Part I

A word from the Editor:

And we’re back! HAL has had a troublesome albeit productive September, focusing hard on our forthcoming new release, due in November, and to be celebrated with the first ever (?) Sex, drugs and money-party in Shanghai. Confirmed contributors includes Josh Stenberg, Andrea Fassolas, Timothy Wang, Brian Keane, Dena Rash Guzman of Unshodquills and, inshallah, the elusive Mr Hellowatch. HAL research on the subject matter S, D and M has been somewhat, ahem, distracting, but we’re getting there, snowshoes on.

But I digress. We now turn our focus back to our dear digital readers, and as a special Mid-Autumn Festival treat we proudly present you with the first installement of The Empty Map by Mr William Ellis (Biography here). Look forward to part to on September 12th.

Enjoy, and have a great holiday (for the China contingency – we will be thinking of you poor western fans come Monday morning)!

Love

B.


The Empty Maps – Part I

By William Ellis

I met her twelve years ago, in Daci Temple, in central Chengdu. The temple was tumbledown then, and smaller than now. The afternoon was grey, but it was summer, hot and humid. She came up behind me very quietly and tapped me on the shoulder. When I turned, she was standing with her hands clasped in front. Her dark hair was straight and long; she wore a halter top and the kind of short shorts that only Asians can wear without looking like trailer trash. Sandals, a small bag over her shoulder, small nose, pointed chin, pretty face, and very smooth skin, slightly tanned – still rare even now for Chinese women, but that was all: nothing else seemed remarkable then, except her British accent. She said, “my Chinese name is Li Jie, but you may call me Diana”.

She told me that she had listened for years, as often as she could, to the BBC – something then illegal. She wanted to practice her English, and wondered if I wanted to learn Chinese. She stood very calmly, smiling in front of me. Behind her rose the main building of the temple: dark walls, swooping roof, tripods smoking with sticks of incense. I had just been inside and hadn’t noticed her. It was as if she had materialized from behind the Buddha.
Continue reading…



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