So decomP, a litmag with a 2.7% acceptance rate, wants to publish one of my stories. And they want me to record a reading of it too. I don’t even know what to say right now. There needs to be a word for gratitude so strong it feels like your heart’s going to burst. Holy shit. Advertisements Continue reading decomP
For some reason I keep thinking I’ll find you at the bottom of the pool, maybe down a sandal like I was that day, picking at the algae that the sun baked into the deep end, kicking over last season’s leaves so they can look new again. It’s all the same, if you’re wondering. The snapped diving board still covers the drain, fiberglass forked at … Continue reading What We Found at the Bottom of the Pool
My story “okémon” was just accepted for publication at motherfucking Literary Orphans! I’ve been trying to break in there for months, so this feels fucking awesome. It’ll be included in the October issue! Obligatory celebratory Pokémon theme song below. (And prepare to have your mind blown, btw, if you’ve never heard the full thing before. Those lyrics, though.) Continue reading LITERARY ORPHANS!
The pills, when dumped, from a glass, drying in windowlight, on the table, leave little whitish traces like geologic strata unburied in some exotic place. These are for imbalances, and your daughter sees a tightrope walker who hands out balloons on the way down. You eat an ice cream from a vendor who has more physical problems than you, but maybe not as many mental … Continue reading All Right And
Sorry for swearing, Grandma. I can’t even believe this right now. It goes up in September. Holy shit. Continue reading HOLY FUCKING SHIT HOBART WANTS TO PUBLISH ONE OF MY STORIES.
We come in on either the beginning or the end of Damen. You: The end. Me: The beginning. Down a block is the Mountain of Fire and Miracles across from the Indian place. Neon JESUS shines onto chicken biryani when we pass. How about we speak of the sounds? Reggaeton provides the beat for a cellular scuffle and how many cars there are and the … Continue reading When the City was Ours