Cruelty Analysis in the First Degree

  When I was a little girl, or at least a less old adult, I decided to start a blog. I just fact checked the exact dates of the blog beginning, and it was July of 2010. Assumedly, a birthday had just passed (the 24th) and I was feeling, as the kids say, a certain…

If Olives Were Real: On Growing Up Dreamless

When I was younger, I had an unnatural interest in pimento-stuffed olives, the plump green ones stuffed with pickled red peppers generally used as a garnish for martinis or tacky antipasto plates on which cubes of cheddar cheese and Genoa salami are nestled in clumps of shredded iceberg lettuce and have American flag-wrapped toothpicks flying high. I could conjure up a reason…

AWP Special #4: Breakdown of the Blitz

AWP, or Amazing Writerly Playtime, is pretty much the most awesome thing I’ve done all year. This may not seem like much of a statement, considering 2014 has been two months of penniless frigidity, both financially and phallically speaking, but I do mean it! Even though New York is the center of the publishing world,  it’s…

AWP Special #3: I’ve Paneled Myself Blind

Well! Barely did we have the chance to wipe the belligerence of a six hour flight off our face before being thrust into AWP land, located this year in downtown Seattle. AWP does not, as I thought, stand for American Writers and Poets, as I told everyone at work, but Association of Writers and Writing Programs….

AWP Special #1: Penn Station

At twenty-seven, I have very few firsts left. My first sexual experiences, first drinks, first jobs, first trips, first loves, and first losses all happened so long ago that I barely remember them as mine; rather, they seem like dreams, or half-remembered movies, that happened to a character for whom I care dearly, but who…

On Poetry, and Other Things

So my second semester of grad school finished out with two Ay Minuses, one Ay Regular. I’m fully convinced that there is extreme grade inflation due to the AM in Modernism, a class that met five times less than all the others, that I attended even less frequently, and for which I read essentially nothing….

On Marijuana

As someone with a proclivity for the life of the night, I knew that one of the biggest fall semester challenges was going to be walking home from class at 9:30 pm with multiple siren songs blaring in my ears, running into my veins, crawling up my shorts through the band of my Aerie dollar-bin…

Build It Up; Tear It Down: The Cathartic Cock

So I’m in grad school, as you may or may not know, doing an MFA in Creative Writing. I’m taking three classes, two of which are ridiculously obscure literature classes (Women’s Experimental Poetry and Modernist Moments) and one is a fiction writing workshop (Fiction Writing Workshop). Grad school is underwhelming: Each class meets for less…

Mile High Club

It’s every young girl’s dream: joining the Mile High Club. You know, that elite group of sassy sisters who’ve had the wherewithal and opportunity to write a blog post while traveling in the air. It’s all a matter of logistics, really, and ultimately not that much different from the real thing. A bit uncomfortable (tiny…

The Silver Years: Celebrating 25 of Years of (My) Existence.

(**Birthday Post delivered three days after the fact due to alcohol and orgasm-induced hangovers and general sense of lethargy. I’m old now so I can say whatever I want.**) So last Thursday, which incidentally marked 25 years of my terrestrial existence, I had to work. Whatever. I was born in July, which means since the…