I thought I was moving in exponentials. Things blurred or bent in me, like a dance between chaos and order. No. We all move a notch on this sprocket, the specifics of which I will never be able to shake.… more
I thought I was moving in exponentials. Things blurred or bent in me, like a dance between chaos and order. No. We all move a notch on this sprocket, the specifics of which I will never be able to shake.… more
Twice I have heard young women scream when they have seen someone they love torn open or crushed and bleeding and dying in front of them. There is no other scream like it.… more
They hammer nails into their fingers tear themselves with saws and do everything left-handed which is why their father calls them maudit gaucher but when was being left-handed a bad thing and their mom and aunt say they were smacked by the nuns to learn to write with the right hand and they should count themselves lucky nuns don’t do that now… more
Being a fresh transplant from California I wanted to see the state, so I took the blue road route meandering through mile after mile of woods, dead and dying farms, and based on the epidemiological data, dozens of tiny one-street oxy towns and heroin hollers.… more
It was his taxi where he got stuck daily in crosstown traffic that sent him exploding with rage. This was the taxi where he was once held up at gunpoint and this was the taxi where he took naps during slow afternoons. This was the taxi whose seats he scrubbed with bleach and this was the taxi in which he picked us up from our mother’s house and drove us to school, home from basketball practice, and came to get us in, always, when we needed him.… more
Maybe those persimmon seeds are magic; maybe they’re just seeds. I have my suspicions. But they are at least an attempt to make sense of the future that is unknown to all of us.… more
The first time I ever saw boobs was on the streets of Galveston during Mardi Gras. Puddle of Mudd was playing on the Strand and my parents thought twelve was old enough to brave that chaos to see them.… more
Don’t blame yourself that you expected the bartender’s age to equate to maturity. It’s not your fault that your dad died four months ago and he never showed you an example of a good man anyway. It’s not your fault that you’re the worst kind of cliche now.… more
It isn’t about feeding lasers to all those invading aliens, dishing out smith-forged steel to those marauding goblins. It’s about being the woman behind the smoking barrel; the female that grips the rawhide hilt. When she puts down the laser pistol, the gleaming, blood-soaked blade, the adventure persists. The adventure is being the new me—her.… more