Most recent stories

OVER EASY

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She slouched on one hip, scribbled on the order pad. “How do you like your eggs?” “I like them very much.”

Whorehouse Piano Players of the Mississippi Valley

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Imagine, if you will, the heartland of America–the Mississippi River Valley–as a woman sprawled out on a bed.

What We Talk About When We Talk About Lasagna

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When we talked about the lasagna, we were, I see now, talking about different things. I.e., I was talking about lasagna, and you were talking about almost everything but. You weren't talking about the dry, burnt noodles or…

i found this.

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Home is where my parents live and my relatives visit.

Wahrheit und Dichtung

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When I was eight years old, I stepped into / a snow bank in Pennsylvania and sank / in over my head

The Sun from Under Water

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There was a thing she liked to do in the pool—after running and sweating—and that was to exhale as much air as she could stand, then hold her nose and sink to the bottom and just look up at the surface of the water, the way the sun hit it, the way the liq

Bleached Mutiny

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The geese are smart

The Coming Cunts

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The first band I was ever in was called the Coming Cunts. Coming wasn’t spelled with a “u” because we thought the phrase would come off too transgressive.

Express

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Once, asked what time it was, M. replied, "Eternity."

Denmark (or On the Death of John Updike)

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The impression old Updike left on a young mind.

10,000 Dollar Pyramid

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During the course of her life Cleo screwed every single President.

The Fish, the Fisherman, and the Sea

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My father is remarkably clever. That is, for a rundown, henpecked fisherman. He has caught me again. He has me slung over his back in a rickety lobster trap and I can hear him huffing and the water in him sloshing and though I can't see his face, I imagine it is ruddied…

Against the V(2.0)(revised)

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There are simply no more words around me quite full enough yet to sort of cancel outthese more than emptied ones. I'm sorry. There might be some forever fields left ofcrowded purple flowers if you look hard enough but no mountain's majestyto…

Geographies of Decay

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That morning arrived with the sound of steel pipe hitting the ground

Twinsburg

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We knew this year would be different because we bought bikinis. We had never worn bikinis before. Our swimsuits had always been shiny one-pieces with stripes, or polka dots, or tiny yellow fish. Not this year. It was a hot summer and the department store was overly …

food-cheated muscles recalling their sex

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What a world I imagined! Lacking organized armies, resting at noontime under a canopy made gentle by passing, natural creatures with large warm eyes, set afire by the influence of constant lust and destruction. Turned to marble by love. Who wouldn’t wan

Walking To Gibraltar, Chapter 14: In Which 500 Fucking Words Appear

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This was before the cancer, years before. He did this every day: up at five, before Astrid and Max. Four cups of coffee in the machine. A bowl of granola. Five hundred words. Five hundred words no matter goddamn what. Five hundred words on Sunday and Chri

ATF

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A father's soft neglect has repercussions.

A Love Letter to Norwich, England

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The number 25 double-decker bus threads its way through the narrow two-lane streets. Coughing and burping without a hint of embarrassment, it carries us from the train station, with its cheerful round clockface and neat front of red brick, over the weepin

Grey.

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"I found a grey pubic hair the other day."

How to Score With Freudian Chicks

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Unlike me, Gino could walk up to a group of unattached women, say something sensitive and thoughtful like “Hey, hey, hey!”–and suddenly the fun would begin.

To Build a Fire

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One frozen hand protruded from the snow.

Nut Breakers Hill

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they flew down the slopes with her holding on for all she was worth

sirens

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I know what that coast was like, where you went. A coarse country filled with malodorous women that sang from the shores. Groups of nine stripped to the waist. Some with braids hanging down their back. Garden beauties. Visual porticos, with their floral

Love At Last

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They shared a lot through the years – a bus stop, acne, and first kiss stories. George was happy to be her confidant, good enough friends to help shoulder her burdens. But he wanted to push her curls back behind her ear and trace her soft cheek with his f

Someone With Keys

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Mower hits a rock and the blades scream.

AN HOUR EVERY AFTERNOON

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This is the only time she feels she can be herself.

dresses on a rat

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I heard about you in advance. You were not going into a party looking for dresses on a rat. Nor shades of blue rubber, nor symbols of hot purity. I knew what you were after, so I put myself in front of you. You could not mistake me for anything other th

Having Fun With Literature

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"The tundra was as cold and barren as Mother Theresa's womb."

Stuff & Nonsense

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artifacts gone obsolete / miscegenating in suspension