My Mom Used to Walk to the Dairy Queen
byMY MOM USE TO WALK TO THE DAIRY QUEEN. She’d do that two or three times a week. It was about a mile away. A little more. She would always…
Stories
Field Notes From the Mud
byTHEY WOKE ME IN THE NIGHT BY GRINDING THEIR TEETH NEXT TO MY EARS. Their thin torsos stretched onto the walls and ceiling in black silhouettes as if they were…
After the Fire
byAFTER THE FIRE, BERTHA AND I MOVED INTO THE GROUNDKEEPER’S COTTAGE AT THE GARDEN’S EDGE. Thornfield Hall itself is little more than a blackened ruin, particularly the upper floors. However,…
1,000 Words on Kayfabe
byOMAR EXPLAINS TO ME THAT MEXICAN WRESTLERS NEVER REMOVE THEIR MASKS IN PUBLIC. “Who they are in the ring is the same person they are outside,” he says. “So The…
My Fetish for Jazz Musicians
byI COLLECT MY SCARLET LETTERS WITH EACH JAZZ MUSICIAN I’VE FUCKED. Nobody else counts. I understand it’s limiting to typecast a subgenre of people. Even morally wrong. But other types…
Rollercoasters, Big and Small
byYOU ARE ELEVEN. You are wearing your prep school’s red uniform polo shirt and a khaki skirt. Your mom took you to the Red Door Salon inside Sak’s Fifth Avenue…
Dinner Party Hypnagogia
byTHIS WAS BACK WHEN CERTAIN KINDS OF POSTURING WERE STILL REGARDED AS VALID FERTILE GROUND, but she dreams way more frequently than I do, and there’s only so many masks…
Mornings Always Made Us Better
byCAM AND I WERE TWENTY-TWO AND DRINKING WHITE WINE IN THE ARIZONA SUMMER FOR AUNT BABE’S BIRTHDAY PARTY, and it was good, but it wasn’t enough and we both knew this….
Stained Shadows
byTHE CHAIR HAD EXISTED IN ITS HOME FOR ALMOST FORTY YEARS. It was as much a part of the house as the frail bones that made up the moldy structure…
On Becoming a Silhouette
by“YOU WEREN’T MY ROLE MODEL,” A YOUNG BLACK MAN TELLS YOU LATE ONE NIGHT, at a bar after a game. A game your team lost, you with the basketball in your…