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November 28, 2021 | fucked up modern love essays

Sylvère Lotringer is dead

Danielle Chelosky

Our hypothetical date tomorrow is at a show for the band Tennis. I have never heard of them, but I trust him. I say I will work my magic to get us in.

Sylvère Lotringer is dead photo
Dispatches from the Treehouse: Grind That Wave  photo

November 26, 2021 | Dispatches from the Treehouse

Dispatches from the Treehouse: Grind That Wave 

Joseph Horton

I’ve been told by plenty of people in this first year of parenthood that having a child is like having your heart outside your body. This always sounds to me like a horcrux.

The Weather in Minnesota photo

November 25, 2021 | Fiction

The Weather in Minnesota

James Sullivan

Who could need this much flesh? Four pounds of Louisiana crawfish, one pound of Alaskan king crab legs, six pounds swordfish steaks, a pound of oysters, three pounds lobster tails, five ribeye steaks, three New York strips, six T-bones, four packs of stew beef, two family packs of chicken drumsticks, and enough shrimp to fill five plastic shopping bags.

The Spine photo

November 25, 2021 | Poetry

The Spine

Mitchell Nobis

While tromping the snowless woods
for a Christmas tree
I stepped on a deer’s spine,
well, half a deer, really,
   which is another mystery in itself.
I called over my son, and
we perused every