Megan Martin is the author of Sparrow & Other Eulogies (Gold Wake 2011). Her work has appeared recently or is forthcoming in Caketrain, >kill author, The Collagist, and la petite zine. She lives and teaches in Cincinnati.
As a writer, what draws me to wrestlers, superheroes, etc is probably what you pointed out, that when we first encounter them, they are overtly flat characters, cardboard. So I have a chance, even an obligation, to dig in and root around and find the human, expose him or her. Once we see someone else not as a caricature but a person, we can reflect off them, compare ourselves to them, feel empathy or disdain or any of the myriad of human reactions that matter. But we can’t just shrug and go, “Ah, janitor.”
Good evening. I just ate eggs. Breakfast for dinner, is what Robin called it. Is there such a thing as dinner for breakfast? I’m sure some jabony has fired-up a cheeseburger and fries at 8 a.m.,
After a couple of Martinis, // one may regard oneself pleasantly pixelated. / I cure nerves with a ten-hour Netflix binge, // then curve my vertebrae to you / while our phones update.
The value of a cash gift is on its face, and that, in some circles, is the value of the giver. But excuse me, the value of a $130 vegetable peeler is $5.99.
Have you traveled abroad? I’m sure
Washer and dryer as hapless duo, / each crashing and beating the other // to shit, idiot tandem: all this / while standing in place.
EVERY DAY IS SUNDAY
I go to call her for the ribs recipe but then I think how she doesn't respond to my jokes so I go to text her instead. And what I say goes like this: you used to make
Stanley K owns a small radio shop on Forest Avenue in Lakewood.
I walk in, having not seen him in 30 years.
“Stanley!” I exclaim, “how are you?!”
“For virtue of your smile, here!” he
18. You will understand and properly use the term “brown out” in every day conversation.
You know him. You love him. He's Gabe Durham. His new book is FUN CAMP and it's a ball.
It's a collection of short monologues, letters, and lists, all from the minds, voices, and pens of
"We’re sorry. We’re not sorry. It was that kind of year, our year in the dumpster, our year in the occult, our year of the amateur séance."
They must have been in Georgia already. Mile-high pine trees loomed just above titanium light poles. Rain was coming down at the car in a funny, sideways sheet. Misting over the windshield.
Accompanied a young couple for the euthanization of their young terrier earlier today. People can be so odd at times.
I’ve set aside some money in the past few months, with no plans for
The following are direct quotes from the lost episode of Breaking Bad.
Summary: This episode, "The Room," depicts the depths of friendships and relationships in one life and raises life's most
NOTE: This is the final of four installments in this series. We will be featuring two hamburger joints at a time. Read previous installments 1, 2 and 3.
ABSTRACT
Within the pages of this
FIRST GINORMOUS MONSTER GIFS DO THEIR GALL ON CITIES LIKE THE CONSTANT PENETRATION WE KNOW WE PARSE AND THEN ROBOTS CHILDREN HAND THEIR SHOES TO FUCK YES THEIR LITTLE SHOES BY COMPARISON TO HOLY
Dear Sir or Madam,
I feel I need to begin by saying I am a longtime lover of your products. As a single mom some days after my shift I know I can stop by and acquire a good amount of your
I consider the narrow chain of cars pulled through city parks like kite-string. In linguistics, mora is a single unit of syllabic weight. I consider yelling at the yellow cab to add more syllabic weight to my overall point.
She was The Incorruptible, so named by a senior during the most grueling AP World semester ever. “Just one night off, Ms. L,” whined star student Jasmine, comically sliding halfway to the
At the diner, when David has been allowed to order a cup of coffee and become a thinking person again, he will begin to attempt to isolate the exact point in time when he decided to leave his wife.
from Bombyonder
After the bird flu it wasn’t safe to eat the chicken or the stuffing. Gloves and knives couldn’t protect us. For the first time the chickens were calm as doves. For them, it was
Dearest Aubrey,
Thou hovereth - petite creature, mosaically charmed, whose eschewal doth blemish my undeserving metabolism - stroked betwixt channels what-have-you, tugged bestrewn through
As I write this, just past noon on the Fourth of July, the Phillies are losing to the Pirates 2-1 in the bottom of the fifth. If they hold on to lose, they’ll be six games under. 500 and—oh, in the
In his first book, Dead Funny, Rudolph Herzog explored the tricky history of humor and satire addressing Hitler and the Nazis in Germany. The Atlantic named Herzog’s debut one of their Best Books
