I first met Lauren in 2012, while she was a patient at the detox I worked at in Arizona. According to the Mayans, the world was supposed to end then, but her recovery, and our relationship, was just beginning.
It’s Fun to Think About, Sometimes
Notes on the World of Thumbscrew
Across the lake to the north, the sky darkens, blue to grey. The wind whips. Pines and birches bend. But the skies above remain clear. We’re about fifty yards offshore, standing on and swimming around rocks a few feet below the surface. Waves rise and fall. The water is warm and splashes our faces. It feels safe, comforting, to be in this space, with a beer to sip, balance to maintain, and a distant storm to watch.
Delusions and a Cursed Book
Delusions and a Cursed Book
by Gina Tron
Rotating stage lights illuminated the words in my hand hot pink, morphing them to electric blue and then magenta as I read a poem about toxic workplaces…
Certain Joys of Life: Slices from Murakami Radio
Did you know that Neil Young is the ideal music for sautéing carrots? Likewise, Prince is perfect for making rolled cabbage. At least according to the kitchen listening philosophies of Haruki Marukami.
Collaboration: Nah, yeah
Imagine you’re a fly on the wall in the writers’ room for The Last of Us. Even awesome, what if you’re one of the writers toughing it out, deciding if Ellie lives or Joel carks it, and how to reckon with Abby before she does anyone in?
Notes on the Fastbacks’ For WHAT Reason?
The Fastbacks provide go-to answers to at least two of life’s frequently asked questions. One of which is, What have you been listening to lately? It’s an expected question. I spend most of my waking hours listening to music and often fall asleep to records. I also enjoy talking about music. This combination would suggest I have some capacity for talking about the music I’ve been listening to lately. Yet when the situation arises my brain freezes, my current rotation blips away, and the Fastbacks swoop in.
Notes on Peter Evans’s “Ars Memoria”
It’s mid-afternoon and I’m washing dishes when my partner Joh and her son Shep arrive at the house. I’m surprised to see Joh is already wearing earrings. “Of course, it’s date night!” she says. We’re going out to dinner and to see Peter Evans. It feels good knowing Joh’s sense of anticipation matches mine. Plus, Shep knows he will have a fun night with my son Sean, about ten years older, babysitting. Good moods abound.
The Carving Is What You Say It Is: The Futility of Classification
The Carving Is What You Say It Is: The Futility of Classification
by Carla E. Dash
When people ask what I write, I struggle to answer. “Fantasy” evokes elves, magic, and fairies. “Horror” calls forth images of gruesome murders and gristly deaths. “Speculative fiction” induces polite bafflement that I attempt to allay through bumbling explanations that both sell my writing short and insufficiently describe it.