There are so many bees in the wall that the outlets are leaking honey. Ants come looking for sweetness, marking black streaks like sesame seeds up the molding. When I stand near, I can hear the buzzing, a deep vibration like the hum of a car radio out on the street. I can feel the […]Read more "How August Could Have Gone at Bodega Mag"
Well, it’s all there in the title, folks–Jellyfish Review graciously nominated my piece “The Ghost Story” for one of their 4 Best of the Net fiction slots for 2018. That’s wild to me! They publish so much high-caliber work. You can read this haunting story here.Read more "Best of the Net nomination from Jellyfish Review"
We walked during the days while the sand got into our packs and our shoes and we slept in a circle at night. It was safer to travel together through the desert. It was safer to travel together everywhere, but we only agreed to walk together until Vegas. Then we’d split. We wouldn’t miss Whatshisname. […]Read more "Whatshisname at Drunk Monkeys"
Here is something of which I am immensely proud: the Queer Syllabus. It’s a project that allows writers to nominate works for a new canon of queer literature, and a collaboration between Foglifter and The Rumpus, a journal I’ve admired for years. It’s filled with incredible queer writers giving love to wonderful queer books and […]Read more "The Queer Syllabus"
The ghost story goes like this: I’m a ghost and you are too, and we’re stuck in the hallway of an office building. Some of the offices are for tax accountants, and lawyers, and therapists with white noise machines cricketing outside their doors, and one is a dentist, and one is a chiropractor who mixes […]Read more "The Ghost Story at Jellyfish Review"
Dear Peons and Classmates, I trust you have found this tiny crystal bottle that I floated down the river, buoyed only by my white ruffled pantaloons, and this note I write with red lip stain from the confines of this most horrible imprisonment. Although it pains me to request anything from you, my so-called peers, […]Read more "It is I, Cheryl Blossom, Requesting Your Aid in this Most Trying Time"
The boy band moves like happy sexy machines. Trent lifts his hands over his head like he’s blocking so many beach balls. Rex snaps his fingers low and fast in front of his pecs, and Mark sings behind his drum kit.Read more "the boy band at joyland magazine"
she rose and tapped her bedside table exactly twenty-four times with her forefinger, then put her small feet into a pair of worn velvet slippers that she kept tucked under her bed, toes pointing towards the room’s door as if ready to walk out at any moment.Read more "Of Angela at Entropy Mag Online"
These are all the books I read in 2017 that I remembered to write down. Asterisks indicate that I didn’t finish the book, for whatever reason (usually I just got distracted, or it was due at the library).Read more "2017 Reading Log"