Maybe this is a mistake..
Maybe the literary world isn’t ready for this sort of blatant and intentional nonsense.
Oh, well, it’s a little late now, isn’t it?
The Underpass started like most great literary projects: while drinking. Jared and I had just finished discussing Bridge Eight business at Volstead (a great bar here in Jacksonville) and decided to continue the evening at his place where he had more beer and bourbon than a single person living alone should have.
We drank more and discussed the online nature of the modern literary world. We were frustrated, because for Bridge Eight, the idea of adding online content just didn’t work. Bridge Eight is a print-only magazine, and protective of our brand, we didn’t think adding content to the website was a good idea.
But what if it wouldn’t hurt the Bridge Eight brand?
Actually, what if we didn’t give a shit about any of the normal literary rules? What if we built something separate that could operate under its own terms, giving us a space to say and do all the shit we propose jokingly, but secretly desire to do? What if we called it “The Underpass” since it will be all the shit we claim is “beneath” Bridge Eight? What if we called it “The Underpass” because the St. John’s River is disgusting and full of what we can only assume is a trillion dead bodies? What if we call it “The Underpass” because it will be run by literary trolls?
Well, we sobered up and let it sit, because usually the ideas fade away.
But this one didn’t.
We workshopped the idea amongst one another, pitched the concept to those we trusted, and the response was overwhelmingly positive. I grabbed drinks with C.H. Hooks, a member of Bridge Eight’s advisory board, and someone I consider a fellow degenerate. He pitched me the idea for the Drunken Book Review Podcast. All of a sudden, The Underpass had lost his quotations, and gained italics.
So we read and drank and discussed and pondered and pitched and laughed and drank and drank and wrote and then one day we got tired of wondering and just built the fucking thing.
Welcome to The Underpass. We hope you leave disgusted.