September 17, 2014 | Fiction
Gene is fluent in Klingon, comfortable even with the tricky irregular conjugations of the stative verbs
September 16, 2014 | Nonfiction
At first sight the line, nearly invisible but sometimes catching a ray of sun through the clinging water droplets, ran parallel to the brown water’s surface, from the tip of the pole held by the fisherman standing in the shallows out to unknown depths.
Roxana and Robert are in therapy because they argue: about the baby, about the laundry, about therapy, and about therapy, too.
One morning I wake up and there are over thirty new texts on my phone, all from him. While I was sleeping, we got into an argument, made up, and then started fighting again, all without my knowledge or participation. Right now he is breaking up with me.
Simon Pegg would kill for a beer. Will. Has. Is. Over and over again. An hour into... more
“My son was murdered last year. His bride murdered him.”
How they say something doesn’t wink at an audience, this caws its eyelids off. What we got? Mad Men? True Detective? Those shows are about acting. (Sometimes about writing in service of plot. Oh, True Detective, almost, so close until the final explanation cribs us all.)
Where the fuck are the collected plays of Ron Allen? The police have won, that’s where.
I had my bags packed and was getting ready to leave with two insane-seeming girls who offered me sex in exchange for a ride to Cleveland when a few patients stopped me and essentially pushed me into the lecture hall. I don't know why I didn't put up more of a fight -
I googled “Karl Ove Knausgaard AND Nicholson Baker” and didn’t find much. A... more