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Category Archives: Creative Non-fiction
But how can I write on flat paper this impulse that arcs between us, inarticulately as I fly? —Richard Tillinghast, “Westbound” I’m sitting with my feet up on the back of the seat in front of me pretending to watch … Continue reading
1. It’s winter. I have started smoking again. I have somehow convinced myself that exiting my apartment to smoke a cigarette in the 25-degree air at 4am will make me warm. I wasn’t that cold to begin with. But here … Continue reading
Lipstick, the shade of “brownie”. Mascara, the kind in the green and pink tube. Avon samples of blushes, an array of pinks and mauves in little plastic pockets, like candy buttons. The remnants of blue eye shadow in a small … Continue reading
It was the summer that I came home from college. The summer when everyone swore they’d seen this cougar along the banks of the river and the Baker family, just down the road from my folks, found their German shepherd … Continue reading
In March of 2001, electronic musician Dan Snaith released his debut album under the name Manitoba, writing and producing all of its songs, and calling his ten-song collection Start Breaking My Heart. Re-released in 2006 under the artist name Caribou, … Continue reading
Janet and I lay in bed, fighting to stay awake until Elsa could get out of parent’s house, to our hotel room. We watched Gary Douran pay a stripper to seduce his wife into a threesome. The movie ends with … Continue reading
According to the guidebook, the four hundred remaining inhabitants of the remote Georgian mountain province of Khevsureti speak exclusively in verse. Not that we would know. The drive from Tbilisi – twenty of us crammed into a ramshackle white van … Continue reading
Tina My kindergarten classroom had tall windows that stretched to the ceiling, filling our fingerpaint-scented room with bright swaths of yellow-white sunlight. I still remember my teacher’s name, Mrs. Orton, and her kind face. The faces of my classmates have … Continue reading
It’s times like these that make you wonder where the police are. Midnight on a Saturday, heading west with my best friend on the horsehair worm of a road they call Highway 20 splitting eastern Oregon. For 19 hours we’d … Continue reading
I The blinding flash of a Polaroid. Small hands gloved and folded in prayer; communion veil and opal cross, posing near white roses. Bobby socks and saddle shoes; fingertips twirling cotton poncho fringe. II Streetlights. Sidewalk chalk and laced-up skates … Continue reading
a response to Wang Qian’s oil on canvas Twenty Yuan “Look there. It’s the scene from the back of the twenty yuan note.” He actually said that as he rowed us downstream. I played my part perfectly, holding up two bills … Continue reading
We are taking a tour of a medieval British castle. Because I spent some time abroad here as a student, and because Matt follows British soccer, we took a trip together to London after being together for nearly five years. … Continue reading
Strip me to the bones. How do you do that? With just a cutting glance. It used to be. Words would stretch. Gossamer. Between us time would pulse. Echo deep. Pounding like the drum. When I bit down, pierced the … Continue reading
Sunrise #1 The clock’s struck winter. It’s the solstice, and the marble’s at the bottom of the bowl. My head’s not in the clouds, it’s above them – my skull the sun itself, my feet (size eight) down there in … Continue reading
1. We admitted we were powerless over food—that our lives had become unmanageable. I knew I was different when, at age ten, I began praying at night for specific body measurements. Dear God, I’d say with eyes closed and small … Continue reading
At the age of ten I became obsessed with death. My parents bought a queen-sized water bed to help me combat the abusive Michigan winters that haunted our 50-acre landscape every year. Underneath the blankets I’d cry at night on … Continue reading
Part I: Freshman Year Coach Chris Martin stood at the foot of our lane, waiting as we finished the last set. Ten one-hundreds on a minute-thirty. There were five of us in lane one, ranging from freshmen to seniors. Lane … Continue reading
I’m lying on my bed with my girlfriend and we’re watching Saw III on my computer. And in all seriousness, it’s probably the worst movie I’ve ever seen. I was expecting to watch a scary movie, but instead, I’m curled … Continue reading
His life fit in a dumpster. One dumpster. One life. Of course he would’ve fit in the dumpster himself, quite comfortably had the dumpster not been made of rusty metal. Not that it had been constructed with rusty metal. The … Continue reading
At a small diner I go to with my girlfriend; we’re often waited on by a woman slowly pushing her way into the second half of her twenties. She wears blue jeans, white sneakers, and a black polo shirt with … Continue reading
I grab your face with both of my hands and pull your mouth to mine. Our mouths fit well, as do our bodies. I taste wine and chocolate. The candles you have lit smell like sandalwood. We are in your … Continue reading