December 1, 2023 | Fiction
K Hank Jost
There’s not a thought in the throb. Not an inkling in the coppery clatter of his mouth. There’s only the turn. Only the fist: fast, everything behind it.
November 30, 2023 | Fiction
Franz Jørgen Neumann
She thought he was going to kill her this time, but that was one of the unspoken rules: no killing each other. Also: no kitchen knives, no purpose-built weapons of any kind. No screaming, either. Neighbors, the police—they wouldn’t understand.
Showboat said he'd like to take me out sometime. I asked why.
“Because I think you’re attractive, and so we can hang out somewhere other than the coffee trailer,” he said.
It was October, ten
I got my period the moment we got to the hotel. Getting my period wasn’t going to affect any of my plans, and was no big deal, really, aside from the fact that I refuse to pay attention to my body so am always completely surprised when my period comes. As such, I had brought no supplies to Miami with me.
One morning on McSweeney’s there was an announcement about a new literary festival in Philadelphia organized by Neal Pollack. It was going to be called the 215 Festival (named after the city’s area code) and would feature readings by Dave and Zadie and Matthew Klam and Neal, as well as other young, McSweeney’s type writers.
Australian author Lexi Freiman’s second novel, The Book of Ayn, is the funniest book of the year. In it, a writer named Anna struggles to find meaning after being canceled for her “classist” book. To
“He couldn’t decide if he wanted to draw David, fuck him, beat him up or fall in love with him.”
-Dennis Cooper, Closer
When I first began earnestly wanting to be a writer,
Anne Marie Wirth Cauchon
I didn’t like him at first. Seemed like a motherfucker. Girls-dripping-off-him-type, but rough. Scared me & pissed me off, how he looked me up & down. That force, that asshole face, eyes like daggers daring me to see what would happen if I didn’t.
This isn’t the first time someone I considered a friend has confessed their love for me.