The Four-Day Win Family legend has it that one day I walked into the kitchen from the two-car garage, my hands cupped [...]
@Dopegirlfresh once tweeted that her first queer sexual encounter was like homecoming. I read that months before I had sex with a woman for [...]
Mez Breeze has been working for a good long while (since the mid 1990’s) to produce a splodge-like array of award-winning digital fiction, books, VR + AR experiences, games, experimental storytelling, interactive fiction, and othergenre-defying output that often can’t quite be categorized into neat little boxes (pssst: she secretly enjoys this fact).
Troy Onyango | The Ghost of Nina Simone; Or the Remains of an Existence Spiraling Towards the Nadir.cosmonautsavenue
The sky is the colour of a sketch artist’s thumb when the bus sneaks its way out of the bus station, headed for the port town of Kisumu – home; a place so distant it requires at least a week of mental preparation and enough love for those whose existence make up that word.
He, on the other hand, actually did meth, which was less cool that I thought. He looked more like a coke guy to me, but what do I know about what a coke guy looks like? As a child I smelled pot on my street and wanted desperately to call 911, so I'm not exactly what you would call "street savvy".
Year One Move to Brooklyn the morning after Whitney Houston dies. Snow lines the ground, ruptured blood vessels line your eyes. Reason with yourself: [...]
Excerpt from David Olimpio‘s essay collection This Is Not a Confession from Awst Press. Available for order now here. RELATIVE TIME You wouldn’t think a boy [...]
SOURCE LEGEND From a ship in the middle of the Atlantic, headed in what he mistook for the correct direction—towards Africa—my [...]
After Ross Gay. After Eusébio. Everything had burned. And then: a game, an aria. And what a party we had, out on the Liberdade [...]
I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to have kids. I don’t want to see anyone, talk to anyone, grieve with anyone, [...]
I take the train to Elaine Kahn’s apartment. I mean Elaine and Kit’s apartment. But, I erase Kit from much of this, sorry. I [...]
As Arthur Miller’s 1947 play All My Sons opens, the Second World War has just ended and Joe Keller has been acquitted of the [...]
Outside, the sun fades below the line of the horizon. The sky is still pale blue, but it lacks the lightness of the afternoon. [...]