My father locked his children up in a house for years for fear that they would die of pesticides from plants. More than that, we were locked in our rooms with a gate.
The first six months I took hormones I was frumpy and ridiculous looking. I didn’t know anything about makeup or styling
Tim tells me that broke up is strong language to use. I wonder how he would describe our ending. Broke up implies an entity to be broken, but we never made it that far. I still don't know what we
I was with a Serbian who said, “Tonight is about your pleasure,” so I was doing great.
I’ve been trying to find this quote by Chris Kraus from Aliens & Anorexia I think, but the quote is nowhere in my notebooks, even though I remember writing it down obsessively.
The night before Easter he ties his belt around my neck and gives it to me to hold.
He was black, handsome, and nonthreatening, so white people loved him.
you have probably peed with everyone you’ve ever loved, including the woman you do right now
When he drops you off at home you realize the soles of your feet are covered in tar.
Sometimes I imagine I’ll get a long email from her, explaining why, when a family reunion stopped her from coming on the trip, she gave up on our friendship. Did I somehow offend her?
Where was my pimp? My boss? My daddy? I wanted a man from a Lana Del Rey song.
I was nineteen, still felt like a kid, and Tom seemed to like me.
The diary didn’t have many entries, but it revealed how lonely Sarah had felt.
My happiest memories all involve an intense desire to be strangled.
I smile now, waiting, always waiting, for you to reappear and remember me ...
My friends and I would see you on the streets and say you looked like a villain. Slicked back black hair, tall and thin, distrusting gaze, but handsome. All sinister swagger.
1985: the year of “high-risk” and Careless Whispers. His appearance was brief —lasting all of ten second— but there he was, following an interview between Debbie Harry and Nick Rhodes on the Palladium.
Last Christmas, you asked for my latest address and sent a postcard all the way from Paris. There was a close-up shot of Hemingway’s face on the front. On the back, you wrote: “You deserve all the good in the world.” I took a picture of it but never sent anything back.
One guy told me I didn’t look like my online photos while we sat al fresco in a bougie hotel in Venice. He smelled of vinegar. I ordered two crab sandwiches. I ate one and got the other to go.
This diner has been here since 1949 but I am sure that no one has ever looked as beautiful as you do sitting on these red vinyl seats.
FARMHAND LONGS FOR LOVE FROM ABOVE
Thought regaling twilight with porch-grown ukulele melodies would suffice to lure somefowl over but since experience
All the Lovesick attendees were gathered outside to listen to the event’s MC, but he was struggling to figure out how to turn on his mic.
The night before the Super Bowl, we were drunk in Miami after hours of non-stop tequila Sprites.
My almost-ex was freaking out in the way only men with egos can.
"It captures all the doubts, giddiness, confessional streaks, blabbiness, self-alarms, rationalizations, feigned equipoise, and instantly breakable resolves of a person freshly infatuated and likely in love." -anonymous writer friend
“Transgressive and immediate: you feel these stories shoot through and wrap around you.”
- Kyle F. Williams, Full Stop Magazine
“Lutz’s work is a marvel of the possibilities of language. Each of her sentences is an intricately crafted thing, deeply complex yet crystalline in its clarity . . . her command of each and every word remains supreme.”
--Mira Braneck, The Paris Review Daily
Garielle Lutz is the author of The Complete Gary Lutz, among other books.
