editor • 12/04/18

     Holly’s address costs eleven dollars on a website where they look it up from when she last voted. I bike across town in the middle of the night to stand on her tree-lined street. She lives in a lumpen, gray building tacked to a row of brightly sparkling ones, like a bad tooth.

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editor • 11/06/17

It’s OK to be mean.      Dad taught me so, as he stood at the kitchen counter, playing with his watch. I poured a glass of milk, gargled, and gulped.

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editor • 05/10/17

Six months after Tye’s “Performance for Women & Performance,” about one thousand people Occupied Wall Street, which is to say, on September 17, 2011, protesters marched through the financial district and settled into Zuccotti Park. The encampment remained in place until shortly after midnight on November 15, when the NYPD gave notice that protesters would be removed due to ostensibly unsanitary conditions. A little while later, they cleared everybody out.

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editor • 10/05/16

JUST BEFORE CHRISTMAS a couple of years ago, I made plans with a person whom I deeply admire. I won’t say who but I’ll say this: she’s somewhere on the spectrum between Eileen Myles and Beyoncé. You probably admire her too—or you might hate her and think she’s fat.

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Emily Books Staff • 09/14/16

This letter’s taken almost a year to write and therefore it’s become a story. Call it Route 126. On Thursday night I got off a plane from JFK to LAX.

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editor • 08/04/16

4 Events You Miss Because of Fibromyalgia Pain

1. Brunch with Marissa’s Parents

Your alarm goes off at 9:30, then 9:45. Marissa’s parents are in town and brunch is at 11.

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Emily Books Staff • 07/13/16

The wine. Find the wine. I found a glass.

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Emily Books Staff • 06/24/16

I hate men. Anna says good men do exist. Nice, friendly men who cook and help clean up and who earn money.

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Charlotte Shane • 05/25/16

I’d gotten Don off sporadically over the phone for a year before we met on the 8th floor of Saks in the Louboutin section, at his suggestion. He’s a tall, round man. Bald.

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Natasha Stagg • 04/25/16

an excerpt from Surveys

Looking at the printed tabloids, I barely recognized most of the people. They were daughters of famous actresses, or famous actresses who no longer look like themselves. I was in the same sphere but luckily not what it was made up of, since no one who read those cared about my rivalry.

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