This is what we tell ourselves about places like this: that they belong only to a certain New York, a New York of discrete transactions and brass plaques reading “Jeffrey E. Epstein Corporation.”
But even when I felt ashamed for liking her, I also saw her as somehow supernaturally chosen for me. She rejected me from the moment we met.
I love idiots. Or at least some of them anyway.
One of the most profound aesthetic experiences of my life involved falling asleep in an armchair in the middle of the afternoon while reading The Fairie Queene. I did not dream of Britomart and Sir
I wanted to see if I could pass as someone who belongs.
Alright, Mariely, Jelly Belly. Pretend you are a person who has friends. You can send this text message. It’s fine. They don’t know you
Me sitting down before a cheesecake factory menu
and seeing only letters.
Me fucking without even a hair as much the enjoyment
I get from a waffle--
Junah at the End of the World is about, well, Junah, a twelve-year old boy going through the uncertainty of Y2K. It’s funny to look back at that time and to think about how different things were, to
That day I let him touch me in his car on the side of the train tracks outside of town.
Do not follow your child too closely. Hovering makes it look like something might go wrong, which of course it might, but the point of these events is to pretend it won’t. Maintain a five-foot buffer
At six years old, I wanted to be a boy. I cut my hair short. I wore blue shorts. I ran around with my shirt off. I threw oranges at my sister and her friends.
Peter does not center himself as an influencer-writer-genius producing work so insular few can relate. Instead, he masterfully turns the tables.
“He copied and pasted your text and sent it to me.” I rephrased it.
They always share their worst secrets with me and look to me for female forgiveness.
On the television, Paul Hollywood is doling out handshakes - I'd settle for eye contact from my husband-
If you grew up here, an old man, maybe your uncle, would inform you many times that the sand in Ocean City was not real sand, but synthetic sand made in a factory.
I still had to sneak out of my house to go out at night. Mom and Dad liked to pretend I was a little angel virgin who didn’t know the lecherous ways of men. Too bad for them. They’d raised me with a
That date where he asked if we could have a threesome and I said no and so we had sex on his roof instead
In my earliest memories, I am building tall towers out of indigo blue picture books
I think art is interesting to write about because it’s bound in a certain idealism but scenes can get competitive and toxic.
“If you desire something,” she said, “ask for it with honesty and clear communication. Then accept the answer you receive, whatever it may be.”
are in!!
as modeled by Danielle Chelosky, Christopher Zeischegg, Garielle Lutz, Shannon Waite, Belinda Cai, Andrea Taylor, Elizabeth Ellen
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The ladybug nymphs were hatching in the hoop house.
Otters float in pools of blood, swans tangle in rivers of entrails. Heads of leopards wear fringed shawls, their fangs piercing shallow trenches.
He told me he knew someone on death row. That dreamcatchers weaken over time. He said Oktoberfest was the Promised Land.
Because cigarettes are one thing,
but my baby won’t have me smelling of shame.
Before the third time I lost my virginity, I recorded myself eating an orange with nothing but my mouth.
