I am excited to announce that my flash piece, “Crumbs and Porcelain Cup,” was recently published in issue 69 of beautiful Bayou Magazine. This was my favorite flash piece to write. I am making the story available on my website. Hope you enjoy it!
My new short story, “Secret Convention,” looks at a BDSM gathering from the perspective of an accidental bystander. I am excited to have it in the latest issue of CSU Chico’s literary journal Watershed Review. I hope that you enjoy it!
The Toast published a glorious piece by Jenny Carlson and Breanna Rollings this week, called “If Tilda Swinton Were Your Girlfriend.” You will long for a richer life after reading it. You will also long for an albino peacock. Here’s a short excerpt, but you can read the whole piece on their page:
If Tilda Swinton were your girlfriend, you’d lie in bed together on rainy mornings drinking Turkish coffee and reading Grimms’ Fairy Tales out loud from a first edition that was passed down to Tilda from a distant relative. You’d cackle at the overly violent stories, charmed by Tilda’s perfect German accent.
I’m writing a personal essay about visiting houses and castles that have been turned into museums, and one of the buildings I discuss is Hemingway’s old house in Key West. The place is surrounded by Florida greenery; the air is humid; six-toed cats walk the property; and a urinal sits in the back yard, cleverly disguised as a fountain. Basically, it’s one of my favorite places in the world. It’s right up there with the Père Lachaise Cemetery in Paris. And so I was delighted to come across Jamie Allen’s essay, “Incident at the Hemingway House,” in Oxford American. It’s hilarious and detail-packed, and it reaches beyond itself in asking how one’s life should be led in relation to rules and regulations. Below’s the opening, but you can read the rest on the Oxford American website:
Last summer, I took my two teenage kids down to Florida, to the Keys. When we checked in at the airport in Atlanta, an airline employee made an embarrassing breach of etiquette: eyeing the three of us, our broken little unit, she said, “Are we missing someone?” … As we walked to the gate, we came up with a plan in case anyone ever asked that stupid question again. First, I’d do my best to appear as though I’m about to cry. My daughter would say, “Momma got taken in the Rapture.” (She didn’t. We’re still good friends.) And my son would then explain our religious affiliations.
I’m thrilled to have two of my more absurdist flash fiction pieces in the newest issue of Your Impossible Voice. Issue #8 is full of great writers, and it will be available in print and on Kindle on Monday. In the meantime, you can hear me read one of the pieces, “On a Flight to Singapore for a Weekend Shopping Trip,” on their website for free. Enjoy!
I’m not going to lie: my interest in McSweeney’s Internet Tendency runs deep. (They are often just so right about so many things!) Today, on their Facebook page, they re-posted a link to an old story by Luke Burns called “FAQ: The ‘Snake Fight’ Portion of Your Thesis Defense.” I’m posting the first Q&A from the story below, but you can read the whole piece on their page.
Q: Do I have to kill the snake?
A: University guidelines state that you have to “defeat” the snake. There are many ways to accomplish this. Lots of students choose to wrestle the snake. Some construct decoys and elaborate traps to confuse and then ensnare the snake. One student brought a flute and played a song to lull the snake to sleep. Then he threw the snake out a window.
From “A Message from George Orwell, Silicon Valley Youth Soccer Club Asst. Director of Operations and Coach, Girls U12,” by Sharon Van Epps:
We are different from other youth soccer clubs in that we know what we are doing. All the others, even those who resemble ours, are cowards and hypocrites. Santa Clara Revolution and Peninsula Premier come very close to us in their methods, but they don’t have the courage to recognize their own motives. They pretend, perhaps they even believe, that they have seized power unwillingly and for a limited time, and that just around the corner there lies a paradise where their girls will just have fun playing off season rec basketball in the church league, where Madison may be excused from the Mustang Invitational to attend her grandmother’s 75th birthday party in Santa Barbara, or Katie C. is released from one practice a week during April and May to try a hip hop dance class at the Y, which should count as fitness training anyway. We are not like that. There is no off-season. There are no excuses. We know that no soccer club ever seizes power with the intention of relinquishing it.