Quand Même

It was called ‘Farrago’ that young
literary magazine – somewhere I
got stuff published at nineteen.
Sent in a swathe of poems – didn’t
give a shit. Hadn’t thought about
it until a voice out of the
past asked me it’s name.

‘Quand Même’, I thought. Until
today I hadn’t recognised the
Edith Piaf connection. I plead
untutored ignorance. Yes, I
chose that name, liked the
etymology, sort of blew my mind

the way it was saying ‘just as well’
or perhaps more pertinently –
“Well, what you say may be true,
but that's not how I see it and
anyway you're missing
the point!"

We self-published Quand Même
at Teachers College, sold it at 10
bob a copy, told our friends they
were getting a collector’s piece.
I guess I still have one as evidence.
Got solidly pissed on the proceeds
anyway.

But Farrago was a real magazine
and I paid a whole year’s sub.
My friend referred to that gem
not our torrid College piece.
What pisses me is I never got a
copy sent in the mail. So I never
did get to see me in print.
© I.D. Carswell 2007-02-09