I’m a stockpiling cakemix of a man trapped in the well Tarantino dug for me around age eleven. 

at work last night a group of brisbane boys came to sydney

they hired our function room to celebrate their friend's bucks night

they had been at the races all day betting on horses and

Jordan Castro reviews rapper Travis Scott's debut studio album Rodeo.

I’ve thought a lot about what it is that draws me into slasher films as a gay man. Maybe I am drawn to them because I read about so many queer people being victimized; in a way I am turning to them for survival tips.

We had no idea what Erotica Week would look like when we dreamed it up, over Twitter, months ago. And now that it's finally here, I'd describe it like this: the stories and poems on the site this

We had no idea what Erotica Week would look like when we dreamed it up, over Twitter, months ago. And now that it's finally here, I'd describe it like this: the stories and poems on the site this

We had no idea what Erotica Week would look like when we dreamed it up, over Twitter, months ago. And now that it's finally here, I'd describe it like this: the stories and poems on the site this

We had no idea what Erotica Week would look like when we dreamed it up, over Twitter, months ago. And now that it's finally here, I'd describe it like this: the stories and poems on the site this

We had no idea what Erotica Week would look like when we dreamed it up, over Twitter, months ago. And now that it's finally here, I'd describe it like this: the stories and poems on the site this

We had no idea what Erotica Week would look like when we dreamed it up, over Twitter, months ago. And now that it's finally here, I'd describe it like this: the stories and poems on the site this

Over the course of being mounted by this tome, I took up a pipe, drank scotch from an airplane toilet, consigned to rubbing myself down with strange bleaches, minced any sense of diet intentionally diabetic by an assortment of binge ate junk...

I spent a considerable amount of my time online drooling on myself, arguing with the Courtney Love haters who camped out on her website, and searching for low- effort ways to get off the pills. None existed.

We had no idea what Erotica Week would look like when we dreamed it up, over Twitter, months ago. And now that it's finally here, I'd describe it like this: the stories and poems on the site this

We had no idea what Erotica Week would look like when we dreamed it up, over Twitter, months ago. And now that it's finally here, I'd describe it like this: the stories and poems on the site this

It wasn’t my intention when I set out this afternoon to penetrate these woods, but I am here again, tracking a deer, a tanned phantom slipping in and out of the shoots of fern. 

I've respected Rachel B. Glaser's sense of mischief for years. When I heard she'd written a novel, Paulina & Fran (2015), I was excited to see it. What the heck could it be? I thought. Was it

So I retired and wrote a book, / called games for NBC. / But I was far too fond of drink / and prone to anarchy, / my own damn anarchy.

I was six, and we were on our way to get a new car.

The apartment listing, spare and direct, stood apart from the exclamation points that forested her vision.

The cops catch your friend, bullet belt and pants around his ankles. Chain link fence skins your back. Your ankle grinds like burnt clutch on your girlfriend’s Jeep. She keeps a pair of dog tags in her apron. There is a divot in her hipbone.

Obviously the place is unsafe . . . 

I came by to talk. Figured it was time to fix a few things.

“I have a collection of small animals!” I announced one night at a friend’s party.
This might not have been the best headline for my match.com profile.

...darling Jennifer Jason Leigh. An actress who knows pain and ain’t fucking around. I miss her for his art. Margot at the Wedding is devastating. It is pursed-lips mean. You can’t measure its parsimony on heart. 

9. pearls for the gentry
10. marriage material
11. salvaged material
13. some burning islands

Here, in the green glass light of the parlor, Swaingrove cultivates its memories.