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Temporary Hilary Leichter Socialist Realism Trisha Low Things to Make and Break May-Lan Tan Mean Myriam Gurba The Gift Barbara Browning I’ll Tell You In Person Chloe Caldwell I Love Dick Chris Kraus Problems Jade Sharma Broken Glass Park Alina Bronsky Prostitute Laundry Charlotte Shane Surveys Natasha Stagg Margaret the First Danielle Dutton "You will find this, perhaps, an over-intellectualization of the event. Indeed, but this was what I was trained to do. This, and pliés." -Barbara Browning, I’m Trying To Reach You Gift Certificate Animals Emma Jane Unsworth Inside Madeleine Paula Bomer Our Spoons Came From Woolworths Barbara Comyns Pretend I’m Dead Jen Beagin Eve’s Hollywood Eve Babitz The Selected Jenny Zhang Jenny Zhang Painting Their Portraits In Winter Myriam Gurba Thérèse and Isabelle Violette Leduc Lolly Willowes Sylvia Townsend Warner My Body Is a Book of Rules Elissa Washuta Her 37th Year: An Index Suzanne Scanlon "Poetry was an attempt to dig into the buried stuff inside a person’s psyche. It used dream logic instead of the logic of our waking lives. Poems were sputtered by demons not sprung out of morality. In other words, poems were deep shit." – Jenny Zhang, “How It Feels” Dead Horse Niina Pollari Black Cloud Juliet Escoria Pity the Animal Chelsea Hodson The Wallcreeper Nell Zink My Brilliant Friend Elena Ferrante Scarecrone Melissa Broder Playing the Whore: The Work of Sex Work Melissa Gira Grant How To Get Into the Twin Palms Karolina Waclawiak The Autobiography of Daniel J. Isengart Filip Noterdaeme The Compleat Purge Trisha Low Yokohama Threeway Beth Lisick Notice Heather Lewis "I can make two or three hundred bucks a day hanging out with these dudes, or $7.50 an hour." Problems, Jade Sharma No Regrets Dayna Tortoricci The Days of Abandonment Elena Ferrante The Terrible Girls Rebecca Brown After Claude Iris Owens Meaty Samantha Irby Cassandra at the Wedding Dorothy Baker King Kong Theory Virginie Despentes Nevada Imogen Binnie Lee and Elaine Ann Rower Empathy Sarah Schulman Speedboat Renata Adler The Correspondence Artist Barbara Browning But there’s this frustration I feel when I’m sitting with a brilliant and talented friend and I realize that for the past 20 or 30 minutes, we’ve just been talking about rape: our rapes, rape in general, rapists, rape culture, date rape, rape statistics, TV rape, rape apologists, rape flashbacks, celebrity rapists, our rapists. In these moments, my anger vibrates inside me until it shakes loose and gains buoyancy. It floats up into the air, where it hovers directly above me and my friend and our conversation. There, it does a study for another painting called Brilliant Women Talking About Rape Again. — Amy Berkowitz, Tender Points Nine Months Paula Bomer I’m Trying To Reach You Barbara Browning Promising Young Women Suzanne Scanlon Maidenhead Tamara Faith Berger Mercury Ariana Reines Loitering With Intent Muriel Spark One More for the People Martha Grover Who Was Changed and Who Was Dead Barbara Comyns Making Scenes Adrienne Eisen Lightning Rods Helen DeWitt the buddhist Dodie Bellamy Sempre Susan Sigrid Nunez I took the package to the post office at Eleventh Street and Fourth Avenue. There was a long line because of the upcoming holidays. As I was standing in line, I saw a sign explaining what kinds of things you couldn’t send via airmail: obviously really hazardous materials like lighter fluid and firearms but also alcohol, perfume, prescription drugs, and tobacco. Hmm, perfume. But my flask was so tiny, and it was all wrapped up in the iPod cozy, plus the package was sturdy and all taped up. I couldn’t imagine the tiny vial would break open, and if it did, there were just a few drops in there—they’d surely evaporate right away. When I got up to the window, the clerk looked humorless. She weighed my parcel and looked me dead in the eye: “Any perfume in there?” I looked her dead in the eye and said no. She put the necessary postage on the package and tossed it into a bin. Barbara Browning, The Gift Glory Goes and Gets Some Emily Carter Inferno (a poet’s novel) Eileen Myles No More Nice Girls Ellen Willis
"You will find this, perhaps, an over-intellectualization of the event. Indeed, but this was what I was trained to do. This, and pliés." -Barbara Browning, I’m Trying To Reach You
"Poetry was an attempt to dig into the buried stuff inside a person’s psyche. It used dream logic instead of the logic of our waking lives. Poems were sputtered by demons not sprung out of morality. In other words, poems were deep shit." – Jenny Zhang, “How It Feels”
"I can make two or three hundred bucks a day hanging out with these dudes, or $7.50 an hour." Problems, Jade Sharma
But there’s this frustration I feel when I’m sitting with a brilliant and talented friend and I realize that for the past 20 or 30 minutes, we’ve just been talking about rape: our rapes, rape in general, rapists, rape culture, date rape, rape statistics, TV rape, rape apologists, rape flashbacks, celebrity rapists, our rapists. In these moments, my anger vibrates inside me until it shakes loose and gains buoyancy. It floats up into the air, where it hovers directly above me and my friend and our conversation. There, it does a study for another painting called Brilliant Women Talking About Rape Again. — Amy Berkowitz, Tender Points
I took the package to the post office at Eleventh Street and Fourth Avenue. There was a long line because of the upcoming holidays. As I was standing in line, I saw a sign explaining what kinds of things you couldn’t send via airmail: obviously really hazardous materials like lighter fluid and firearms but also alcohol, perfume, prescription drugs, and tobacco. Hmm, perfume. But my flask was so tiny, and it was all wrapped up in the iPod cozy, plus the package was sturdy and all taped up. I couldn’t imagine the tiny vial would break open, and if it did, there were just a few drops in there—they’d surely evaporate right away. When I got up to the window, the clerk looked humorless. She weighed my parcel and looked me dead in the eye: “Any perfume in there?” I looked her dead in the eye and said no. She put the necessary postage on the package and tossed it into a bin. Barbara Browning, The Gift