Mother says I am too old to play with dolls. I do not play with dolls. I haven’t played with dolls in years, and if they had bothered to take any notice they, SHE, would have known that. The dollhouse has always been my life’s project and has nothing at all to do with dolls.
Just […]
Matt Sesow is an independent and self-taught artist living in Washington, DC. Since starting his career in 1993, he has sold thousands of paintings all over the world. A self-described ‘social anthropologist,’ his art documents the times in which we live while simultaneously skewering our perceptions about everything from world politics to personal trauma.
As […]
“So I saw this new patient a few weeks ago. Very young.” Simon pincers the roach, hoots, then high-hands it across the pillow to me. When he exhales his mouth forms a slightly squashed O, as if he’s been chopped in the spleen or is lip-synching to some soulful Anita Baker number: “Ooo-ooh, ooo-ooo-ooh. You’re […]
For the last three months, I’ve been trying to hawk my new novel Q Road in the midwest and beyond, and in case you haven’t read it, recommended it to four friends, suggested your local library purchase it, and demanded your favorite bookstores carry it, shame on you!In these last several months, I have been […]
He’s high on meth, made in the back room of a blue
rambler at the edge of a clear-cut, one mile from town.
He twitches and waits, twitches and waits.
She’s stuck to a mirror in the Chevron bathroom, counting
freckles, pimples, dimples her Dad loved
to pinch when he came home weekends
from the woods, smelling of fir, gas, two-stroke
oil, […]
…the signals we give-yes or no, or maybe-
should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.
William Stafford
Evening light saturates them.
Shadows eclipse his eyes, mouth. She wants
to hear the story of him crying
over a crow he shot when he was thirteen
walking with friends along a dirt road.
She wants to hear how the bird
fell into a ditch, […]
In honor of esteemed novelist Kurt Vonnegut, we asked Liam Callanan to take the late author’s admonishment from A Man Without A Country and “please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, ‘If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.’”
Good advice!
And here’s Liam’s piece.
The stigma attached to methamphetamine is well deserved, so I knew there was no way to explain to the Tennessee State Trooper why I had it tucked away behind the passenger seat under a .32 caliber palm pistol loaded with Glazer safety slugs.
It was mid-December of 1997 and my first trip across the country. I […]