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These are short, personal essays, written by two dudes who have no fear of public self-flagellation.

Contributors C. N. Hubbarde and A. R. Arvelo McQuaig rightfully describe Introspection Intermittently as a “solipsistic journey through a sea of existential despair.” McQuaig, wearing his best curmudgeon hat, complains about smiles and sunny days, and expresses shock (with plenty of exple- tives) that a girl looking at him on the bus might find him attractive (he was appar- ently too dumbstruck to try talking to her). From Hubbarde, we get lamentations on his lonely younger years, and a dissection of his inability to snag a girlfriend.

It’s not clear how much of this is tongue in cheek. It’s likely that McQuaig’s diatribe about his friends growing up without him, and his list of qualities for a new fantasy friend (unemployed, single and creative), is a lark.

Introspection Intermittently will proba- bly always be more interesting to Hubbarde and McQuaig themselves than to a casual reader, but if you’re into bewildering mis- ery, there’s plenty here. (Scott Bryson)

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