Incompatible with Life

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Clementine died on November 22nd, 2017. She was born three days later on the 25th at 7:35 in the morning. She weighed 36 grams and was 6.5 inches long and I will spend every day of my life missing her and wondering about the person she may have become. More

August Children

August Children

Fiction by

It’s always the past we want to visit, never the future. Sure, people say they want to see what’s ahead of them, but is that really what they want? Or are they just running from the present because what they have always wanted is already gone?More

Eat Fire

Eat Fire

Fiction by

I slip on the heavy gloves again and hurl that sparking, spitting, burning motherfucker into the hopper, followed by a garbage can full of thin wrappings that stoke the flames, and now the back of our truck is a flaming mouth, nice and angry. More

Shadow Boxing

Shadow Boxing

Fiction by

An older man’s confrontation in a gym parking lot leads to consequencesMore

A Road Disappearing

A Road Disappearing

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“His heart is as pure as gold. And really, shouldn’t that be the only thing that matters?”More

Time on the Water

Time on the Water

Fiction by

Not every man gets a chance to really fuck things up one last time.More

The Pups

The Pups

Fiction by

The woman knows why her husband stands with the door open, all of winter behind him. He does it to remind her to stand herself, to stretch her legs and walk with him back to the house. She ignores him and stays kneeling before the pups.More

The Chair

The Chair

Fiction by

I don’t make a lot of money, so I don’t buy nice things.More

Pinned

Pinned

Fiction by

A man lay pinned under his overturned snowmobile, the weight of it spread across the backs of his legs. The left leg felt broken—electric hot despite the cold.More

Stranger

Stranger

Essay by

After we had been dating nine months, Mark and I were in New Orleans visiting his friends. We were playing a game similar to that old television show The Newlyweds: to win, you accurately anticipated the other players’ answers, knowing how they would characterize themselves. One of the questions was. “How many people know youMore

Did You Never See Dallas

Did You Never See Dallas

Fiction by

Two tales about trying to correct the past.More

Kissing Barbie

Kissing Barbie

Fiction by

Inside information Uncle Jimmy called it. I wanted some too. So, I, Agnes O’Doul, of the Ninth Street O’Doul’s, on this day in the year of our Lord 1965 broke the rules.
I became a time traveler.
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Googly Eyes

Googly Eyes

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If Jeff hadn’t told folks it was my birthday damn-near every time we went out to eat growing up, I’d have thought someone got cute with their lighter games in Bob Evans and things had gotten out of hand. More

Doctor on Call

Doctor on Call

Fiction by

Stab the vial with your needle, load up the pin, and get that shit in. More

Is it Really So Hard: Thoughts and Semi-Rants on Louis C.K., Toxic Masculinity, Art and Victoria Falls by James Hornor

Is it Really So Hard: Thoughts and Semi-Rants on Louis C.K., Toxic Masculinity, Art and Victoria Falls by James Hornor

Essay by

What I kept thinking about as I read Victoria Falls, was that this is one thing artists, male artists especially, can do, they can listen, they can do better, and they can craft characters and story lines that map out different, more self-aware ways to be male: males that are responsive and grow, and fight against all the ways society convinces them, men, to suck.More

Old School

Old School

Fiction by

Sunshine in a bag. It’s 4:20 somewhere. Drop by and say high.
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“The car had been through a reconstructed transmission, a busted carburetor, and was an absolute lush for Valvoline.” – Jordan Farmer, “Brothers”