Swan Dive

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Is it a good sign my girls feel comfortable punching me when I make a bad joke?More

The Vines

The Vines

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The old man died in the doorway of the Fish Shack as we were coming in from a late day of harvesting grapes. More

Relentless

Relentless

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A good Christian boy learns to lie to himself in profound ways.More

Ichi Ni San Shi Go

Ichi Ni San Shi Go

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Ichi…ni…san…shi…go, he says, raising then lowering the puck with each word, each number in Japanese, until he drops it quickly on go like it was a hot coal.More

Curiosity

Curiosity

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I supposed he hated me and tee-ball as much as cats, repeatedly asking “Why don’t you play with a ball of yarn?”More

Townie

Townie

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He wonders how he has become all of these things as he stares into the bathroom mirror, holding his breath so his face has color again. He lets the air out and leans over the sink. He keeps breathing, the sound deep, the feeling and pulse of it so deep that his shoulders tremble.More

Candles And Petals

Candles And Petals

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He was a mama’s boy with a mouth full of trash. More

Soul Survivor

Soul Survivor

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Stones mania adds four more people to a marriage. More

Stephen Graham Jones

Stephen Graham Jones

BULL Interview by

Stephen Graham Jones writes about cars, trucks, cowboys, Indians, slashers, zombies, and werewolves as fluently and fondly as your grandma talks about the intricacies of each of her grandchildren. If you haven’t read his work yet, you’re in luck: The Only Good Indians (Saga Press $26.99) was released last month, and his next book is due outMore

FRANK REARDON

FRANK REARDON

BULL Interview by

So here’s the thing you should know about interviewing Frank Reardon. No bullshit. No flinching. No wincing. Much like the stories he writes, he doesn’t spin. Anything. He doesn’t shy away or go looking for attention. He doesn’t dress up his life to make it feel like anything other than it is same way heMore

Soundtrack Your Apocalypse, Soundtrack Your Life: An Interview with Honus Honus of Man Man

Soundtrack Your Apocalypse, Soundtrack Your Life: An Interview with Honus Honus of Man Man

BULL Interview by

You can tell where some bands are from by their sound. Other bands sound like tears in the fabric of reality. Man Man is the latter. If you were to guess where they are from based on the sound of their music you might think they sprang into existence in a secret bunker below aMore

Speaking in Tongues

Speaking in Tongues

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His beady blue eyes flashed over toward me but I was already gone. I was able to make out one phrase he kept repeating over and over though: Forgive me! Forgive me!More

Love—

Love—

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Five years I had tended to an increasingly severe depression. It had no identifiable beginning. Or if it did, we were not aware of it. The liveliness of her manner dimmed in a strange progression. Her highs were always attaining the same height, but her lows found newer and newer depths. Until the highs became a tolerable apathy, then nothing. More

Visitations

Visitations

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It occurred to him to kiss her on her sleeping check, but he couldn’t shake the thought that the gloss of vodka on his lips would leave a permanent sanitized mark, a bleached, diamond-shaped tag that would mar her face for life. So he closed her door and stumbled down the hall to the kitchen to top himself off.More

I Hope You Know I Love You, Even Though

I Hope You Know I Love You, Even Though

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…even though you like to win; even though you tricked me, telling me it would just be the two of us, but when we got to the restaurant, Georgia was there (and though it was the first time I ever saw her, I recognized her, her smile as sharp as a hook)…More

 A Healing and Killing Lesson

 A Healing and Killing Lesson

Essay by

My father took a plastic bottle of motor-oil from the pantry and took me outside. “Go, and pour this under the tires,” he said (He sounded like the God of the Old Testament telling Moses “Go into Canaan, and slay all the men…”)More

“The car had been through a reconstructed transmission, a busted carburetor, and was an absolute lush for Valvoline.” – Jordan Farmer, “Brothers”