When we pulled up to the skate rink I was reciting Motownphilly from memory and she wasn’t impressed but I kept going and the rink was exactly how I remembered: it looked like a corrugated metal airplane hangar with a crooked white banner hanging off the side advertising in blocky red text the FREE COMMUNITY SKATE—right behind it, still, the American Legion post sat sagged and tired and it was mostly the same, but now the paint job’s gone from seafoam green to red and white stripes…
I’ve long loved the work that Pidgeonholes publishes, and I’m grateful to editors Jennifer Todhunter and Cathy Ulrich for picking this up.
You can read “Anthropocene Moves” here (or, there’s audio of me reading the piece at the top of the story page, if that’s your bag!). I’m just so grateful to be a part of this amazing cohort. A huge thanks to Jason Jordan (and the rest of the decomP team) for being so gracious.
…we don’t understand the many broken treaties, the taking of land, the attempt and failure of reaping the West’s resources, the failed city-states, the disastrous laws and monstrously heinous xenophobic thoughts and actions, the many dead paving the way for the Modern West, oh goodness, so many dead.
I”m thrilled to be a part of this stellar cohort. A huge thanks to Leah Angstman of Coil for the recognition.
I wrote a 7-part essay series for Coil Mag (Alternating Current) exploring my love of the problematic Western genre. Part-memoir, part-historical, with original watercolors, “Rhinestone Cowboys” looks at erased stories, forgotten films, rewritten history, and memory, asking: AT WHAT COST? WHY AND HOW IS THIS GENRE, STILL, SO SIGNIFICANT?
When I woke up twenty or so minutes later, I had drooled on the clothes, made a sort of nest. I looked at myself in the mirror: ruddy-faced, blood-shot eyes, sunken cheeks. On the wall behind me hung a poster advertising the new styles of jeans for the upcoming winter season. I admired the way they hung on the hips of the male model, how they fit him perfectly, even though I knew how these photos worked: clothes pinned and pulled back, tightened and loosened for maximum perfection.
I’m really so thrilled—The Boiler is a fantastic journal and I’m stoked to be a part of this double-sized, superb issue; a huge thanks to Sebastian for including this piece.
I’m grateful: My short story “Holograms”—about a young woman trying to find her place in the world while working a crummy summer job at the Michigan International Speedway in the early 1990s—was nominated for the Best of the Net by Little Fiction!
I”m thrilled to be a part of this stellar cohort. A huge thanks to Beth Gilstrap and Troy Palmer of Little Fiction for being so gracious and championing this piece.
The Western became popular — especially back east, in cities, a world away from its goings-on — for many reasons: a desire for wide open space, freedom from the government, the allure of being dependent on no one and nothing but your wits. It was pandering, plain and simple, that drummed up the tall tales and the myths that crawled into our collective consciousness.