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Showing results for January, 2023

January 31, 2023 | Fiction

Natalie, My Chaperone

Cash Compson

I lie in bed a long time before sleep comes. I wonder if I love Natalie or if I’m just so bored and I’m turning fleeting, tiny moments into full scale cinematic affairs in my head.

January 30, 2023 | Nonfiction

On Suicidality, “Girl Interrupted Syndrome,” and the BMV

Emma Bhatt

To begin abruptly: I’ve been some degree of suicidal since I was fourteen. I don’t think this makes me special. In fact, I think I’d be more of an individual if I’d always wanted to live.

January 29, 2023 | fucked up modern love essays

You stopped taking

Shalini Singh

A year wrapped in a day, a teardrop at the climax of every way that wounded, furthering the wounds.

January 23, 2023 | Toilet Conversations

Toilet Conversations: Pt. 1 w/ Alexandra Dietz

Miles Marie

There is kind of a freedom in the humiliation of feeling a little bit trashy.

January 23, 2023 | Fiction

Bath Salts

Andrea Taylor

I can tell she’s not convinced. But I’ve been Googling symptoms: confusion, nausea, loss of appetite, changes in sleep patterns, visual hallucinations, erratic behavior.

January 22, 2023 | fucked up modern love essays

Ex ante, Ex post

Gillan Sims

That was the world then…

That was the world then….bawdy cars and tawdry thoughts and rundown wannabe skyscrapers brownie baked by the sun that just looked cheap against the horizon and everybody

January 17, 2023 | Fiction

The Alcoholic Babysitter

Katie Frank

She breathed deeply and saw an image of the naughtiest kids in the afterschool program laughing at her.

January 16, 2023 | Poetry

Two Poems

Uzodinma Okehi 

Drainage stains. Snow turns to shivering rain. The rear facing concrete walls.

January 16, 2023 | Nonfiction

Why I Did It

Miss Unity

The day I stopped being a woman was a hard-boiled egg kind of day. 

January 16, 2023 | Poetry

Six Poems

Madison Langston

waylon in the kitchen
the pain of a tattoo gun on ribs 

January 15, 2023 | fucked up modern love essays


Jerusha Crone

I hold myself in the plank position. The little dog sits on the rug watching. It’s a very expensive rug. She’s not supposed to be here. He’s up on the purple couch and I do not know what he is

January 9, 2023 | Modern Film Review

Painting a Picture of a Human Being or: Thinking About Lydia Tár As If She Were Myself

Craigen Z Oster

I first saw Todd Field’s Tár in a packed theatre in Bloomfield Township, Michigan with a crowd
of mostly middle-aged and above upper to upper-middle class New Yorker-tote-bag liberal types.
During the first 20 or so minutes of the film I found myself annoyed, fidgeting in my seat and
groaning as I sat through the titular EGOT winner’s conversation with Adam Gopnick.

January 9, 2023 | Fiction

Full Metal Jacket

Steven Arcieri

My neighbor let his Rottweiler roam without a leash again and I’m an inch away from planting razor blades inside my tomatoes.


January 9, 2023 | Interview

My Luncheon with Elizabeth

Victor Glass

When I was a younger man in my early 20s slumming about Watauga County in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina living off of sacks of potatoes, Top Ramen, and 50 cent day-old bread from Jimmy John's in the midst of a youthful exploration of self-discovery, my primary means of spiritual sustenance being $2 40 oz bottles of malt liquor, my relationships with scoundrels, endearing friends, an abundance of hedonism, a lack of responsibility, a poor boy’s decadence, bright-eyed women, and Kamel Red cigarettes, Elizabeth Ellen was the first literary publisher to accept any work that I’d submitted. This was circa 2014. Felt that she was the Hackmuth to my Great Bandini.

January 9, 2023 | Poetry

Wine-Induced Laughing Fit

Danielle Chelosky

“you’re bad at finishing beverages that aren’t alcoholic,” you told me

January 8, 2023 | fucked up modern love essays

Moonlight Empaths

Caroll Sun Yang

I was zipped up to my nose in a sleeping bag, inhaling moist breath mingled with olfactory ghosts of campfires and wild sex past.

January 2, 2023 | Poetry

An Ordinary Hour

Stephanie Yue Duhem

You must stop dating
physicists, that sere barnacling across
the cold, leeward faces of rocks.

January 2, 2023 | Poetry

simone says

Anna Dorn

writing fiction in which people google things,
suffering in a very abstract way
trying very hard to shut the fuck up & failing

January 2, 2023 | fucked up modern love essays

From a Letter, 1980

Garielle Lutz

We paid the cover charge and stood among the young homosexuals of Columbus.