Just This Morning A New Jersey train derails and crushes the station. I wake slow, make coffee on the other side of the... more

The summer I dated a painter I did not love, I modeled sometimes for a retired professor's drawing class. 

Tampopo!

Yeah, it’s kind of a mindfuck.

I lift my knees to walk in flippers, grab a glass of water in the kitchen before high-stepping my way back to the living room where Joe and I have dinner in front of the television.

I said to the / ceiling fan / I am here / to break / the sadness.

New Miserable Experience Gin Blossoms Label: A&M Released: August 4th, 1992 Length: 45:02   When I... more

most of the time / i am / bored and warm

It’s getting harder and harder to shave my pussy, let alone the tight star of my asshole.

such good I push a cloud out of my head and stretch my ankle I move forward like a spherical knife not actively trying to... more

I was a mess at every sunrise. The door winked at me, the comb was losing teeth.

1. I cut through the small park. Come out the other side. As soon as I do I feel eyes on me. I look up from the... more

I was still in diapers when American Fool was released, so by the time I made my way to Indiana for college, it was already a classic. And it’s not until you live in Indiana—in small-town Indiana—that you feel Johnny Cougar Mellencamp in your veins.

blm land this belt of the nation feels equally bible and rust and sun, where mute billboards offer us teeth cleaning for... more

I started watering the houseplants on a regular basis—this after watching the dead multiply for the years I spent... more

The term “unreliable narrator” was first coined in 1961 by the critic Wayne C. Booth, and since then it... more

Let’s create fake accounts and try to seduce each other. 

I used to part masses. To wade through throngs of children cheering. Boogie would press play on the cassette, and I’d come through the crowd instead of take the aisle. I’d roll on the trampoline and stand above a field of pumping fists. 

And so even though my flight was the next morning and my phone was dying and I had neither a charger nor anyone else’s phone number written down, I went to the show, alone.

I call that year my wandering year or my train station year or my year of the lucky rat year. It was 1996 and I was pregnant with my first child, Boris––born with a strong heart, Boris.

You would be forgiven for thinking Vegas is not the place for you. 

I can almost split your face in two.

She had gorgeous hair, long and dark -- I like to wrap it around my neck after we make love and fall asleep like that. 

Maybe Marjorie lives a solitary life bookended by Family Feud reruns, spending painstaking hours in front of the set trying to put the city together, but small parts keep breaking off or falling under the couch through her indelicate hands