cosmonautsavenue

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So far cosmonautsavenue has created 842 blog entries.
2 03, 2015

Indira Chanrasekhar | Fiction

2018-12-27T02:54:20+00:00

'Have you seen a doctor?' I pointed at her hand. Girija shook her head. 'Ratni brought some herb oil from the village. She applies it for me every day.' The thick, green-brown fluid in the re-used Old Monk bottle near the stove looked foul.

Indira Chanrasekhar | Fiction2018-12-27T02:54:20+00:00
1 03, 2015

Jessica Scicchitano | Poetry

2018-10-22T15:20:09+00:00

Ladies, this license plate is your journal, an everlasting ticket up a Northern route where you’ll still have access to electroshock therapy through some faux forest in the middle of the US.

Jessica Scicchitano | Poetry2018-10-22T15:20:09+00:00
1 03, 2015

Interview | Alex Dimitrov

2016-02-10T23:17:15+00:00

by Megan Fernandes Alex Dimitrov came to Concordia University in Montreal on Thursday, March 5th for a campus-wide reading. The following day he came to speak to my class, “Queer Sexuality and [...]

Interview | Alex Dimitrov2016-02-10T23:17:15+00:00
2 02, 2015

Aggie Zivaljevic | Fiction

2018-12-27T02:53:25+00:00

For ever so long, Iskren Syeveratz had watched over the island's elders, who without their offspring were like oysters without pearls. The octogenarian grandfathers and grandmothers sat in front of their stone houses looking out at the sea for the return of their children from the foreign lands, until they were petrified and turned into dust.

Aggie Zivaljevic | Fiction2018-12-27T02:53:25+00:00
2 02, 2015

Laura Miller | Fiction

2018-12-27T02:52:35+00:00

The other part is that he’s such a fucking terrible imposter. In life, Ingrid Lynn was a poet, so she thinks in terms of metaphors. She can say that he dances without grace and inflects the letter r in a way that conflates meaning. She says his eyes are dead. She says he gets whole stanzas wrong. She says he’s an automaton.

Laura Miller | Fiction2018-12-27T02:52:35+00:00
2 02, 2015

Theodore Wheeler | Fiction

2018-12-27T02:51:09+00:00

By protocol, he should have called security. But Andy ran down the utility stairs instead to stop her rattling the door, her feet planted apart. A flash of white showed up her shorts, her legs spread to pull the door handle, before she straightened to wave him down.

Theodore Wheeler | Fiction2018-12-27T02:51:09+00:00
2 02, 2015

Selena Anderson | Fiction

2018-12-27T02:50:18+00:00

Tiny knew lots of people like Francine. Some people could talk forever telling all they knew, trying to get out what was wrong with them. But it wasn’t her problem. The ones that looked vulnerable were everyone else. They all looked like porcelain thems. Like they were fixing to break.

Selena Anderson | Fiction2018-12-27T02:50:18+00:00
1 02, 2015

Richard Z. Santos | Nonfiction

2018-12-29T11:03:11+00:00

There’s always more work to be done. My book still isn’t finished. A happy ending is only so happy. If the cancer doesn’t return, then something else will finish the job.

Richard Z. Santos | Nonfiction2018-12-29T11:03:11+00:00
1 02, 2015

Interview | Dana Spiotta

2016-02-10T23:17:17+00:00

by Chanelle Benz I met Dana Spiotta in 2009 at the Syracuse University MFA Program. We had both just arrived, but unlike me she knew what she was doing. As she [...]

Interview | Dana Spiotta2016-02-10T23:17:17+00:00
28 01, 2015

Johanna Skibsrud | Nonfiction

2018-12-29T11:01:47+00:00

But this may become, especially in the context of our contemporary theaters of war, increasingly difficult. As war technology advances exponentially and we become more and more able to replace human effort, skill, and sacrifice with robotics, we risk also displacing our essentially human ability to recognize ourselves, and—even more dangerously, in the context of war—others as human.

Johanna Skibsrud | Nonfiction2018-12-29T11:01:47+00:00
2 01, 2015

Kim Chinquee | Art on the Wall

2018-11-03T01:00:23+00:00

Bills come in like falling leaves. They soothe me: a record of where I've been, as if the things I have might possibly define me. Sometimes I look at the [...]

Kim Chinquee | Art on the Wall2018-11-03T01:00:23+00:00
2 01, 2015

Victoria Ludwin | Fiction

2018-12-27T02:49:17+00:00

The Invisibles The tour bus pulled into the lot and Arnold put his Playstation on pause. Now I must represent my country, he thought, snickering, as Ambassador from the [...]

Victoria Ludwin | Fiction2018-12-27T02:49:17+00:00
2 01, 2015

Andrew Szymanski | Fiction

2018-12-27T02:48:20+00:00

A NIGHT DRIVE I had been looking after a phonograph for my friend’s girlfriend. My friend’s girlfriend and I were very close; in fact, it was in my bed [...]

Andrew Szymanski | Fiction2018-12-27T02:48:20+00:00
2 01, 2015

Annabel Graham | Fiction

2018-12-27T02:46:51+00:00

The wind rushing in through the windows blows our long hair into our faces. It’ll be tangled when we get home but we feel too good to care. We’ve been out dancing at a club in Hollywood. Used our fake IDs to get in. Mine says I’m from Florida. The bouncer knows they’re fake but he lets us in anyway.

Annabel Graham | Fiction2018-12-27T02:46:51+00:00
1 01, 2015

Karie Fugett | Nonfiction

2018-12-29T10:59:38+00:00

Cleve and I met in eighth grade where we briefly “went out” before breaking up, because I thought he had a crush on one of our school’s cheerleaders. We remained fairly close, carefully dodging an intensity we were too young to address. We lost touch after high school.

Karie Fugett | Nonfiction2018-12-29T10:59:38+00:00
1 01, 2015

Resa Alboher | Gogol Was a Realist

2018-11-03T01:00:07+00:00

In the early 90’s, just a few years into our marriage, when John and I were living in theobshaga, a shitty Russian university dormitory, on the windiest part of Vasilevsky [...]

Resa Alboher | Gogol Was a Realist2018-11-03T01:00:07+00:00
1 01, 2015

Dean Thomas Ellis | Miradouro

2018-11-03T00:59:58+00:00

"Imagine the marriage lasting, the lilies blooming in the black vase for years..." -Kim Addonizio, Tell Me It is Saturday afternoon in Lisbon, and I've stumbled upon bliss. Or whatever [...]

Dean Thomas Ellis | Miradouro2018-11-03T00:59:58+00:00
1 01, 2015

Marius Burokas | Two Poems

2018-11-03T00:59:52+00:00

Townspeople (the other side of an old poem) town carnivals and songs. no one waits for tomorrow. drizzle. packed streets. a jumble at your feet. we all depart our dwellings [...]

Marius Burokas | Two Poems2018-11-03T00:59:52+00:00
1 01, 2015

Monica McClure | Poetry

2018-11-03T00:33:49+00:00

TENDER DATA Inquiries feel like enemas What is it called when your fist blooms inside someone The civilization I live in has lost its purpose so I turn to [...]

Monica McClure | Poetry2018-11-03T00:33:49+00:00
1 01, 2015

Aram Kim | Fiction

2018-11-25T01:57:53+00:00

WHITE BONE PINE The woman said she was looking for her son. This was after Mr. Lee, cigarette seller and realtor to the western valley, looked her up and [...]

Aram Kim | Fiction2018-11-25T01:57:53+00:00
7 12, 2014

Interview | Rivka Galchen

2016-02-10T23:17:20+00:00

by Rebecca Fishow I first met Rivka Galchen in endlessly grey, snowy Syracuse, New York.  I was an MFA student student at Syracuse University, Galchen was a visiting professor, teaching [...]

Interview | Rivka Galchen2016-02-10T23:17:20+00:00
2 12, 2014

Mikael Awake | Avatar

2016-01-18T02:35:01+00:00

I wasn’t the least bit surprised when I received a mass email from Caitlin bragging about the start of her book tour. You have to understand that Caitlin Morrow is [...]

Mikael Awake | Avatar2016-01-18T02:35:01+00:00
2 12, 2014

Eric Fershtman | Little Suns

2018-01-06T12:49:06+00:00

Little Dude looks out the window as we approach Orlando International, at the wash of winking blue lights that tell the airplanes where to land. “A story,” I suggest. “Father,” [...]

Eric Fershtman | Little Suns2018-01-06T12:49:06+00:00
1 12, 2014

Geneviève Robichaud | Nonfiction

2018-12-29T10:56:03+00:00

She tacks the quote on her wall. Not the virtual kind, but the smooth white one with the round corners. The sound of a kettle whistles in the kitchen. Outside, the rustle of a few trees. This is Montréal in the spring. It is the sound of being nine hundred and eighty kilometres west of the Atlantic Ocean.

Geneviève Robichaud | Nonfiction2018-12-29T10:56:03+00:00
1 12, 2014

Three Poems by Galina Rymbu

2018-11-03T01:03:20+00:00

translation by Jonathan Brooks Platt *** the moving space of the revolution you think you’re Nekrasov or something, bitch? war machines all along the roadside the functionary of the [...]

Three Poems by Galina Rymbu2018-11-03T01:03:20+00:00
2 11, 2014

John Goldbach | Fiction

2018-12-27T02:46:13+00:00

The Riviera descended the dark mill hill and in its lights were geese waddling out of the way, some hissing, wings spread, waddling quickly, and we pulled into the mill parking lot. “What the fuck?” said James, stopping the car.

John Goldbach | Fiction2018-12-27T02:46:13+00:00
2 11, 2014

T Kira Madden | Fiction

2018-11-02T23:58:01+00:00

I don’t know if I ever expected them to come back, but the night was long and loud and to this day, let me tell you, I can still see our mother exactly the way she was the next morning as she unfastened our seatbelts: her eyes bloated into garnets as she squeezed us both to her chest, asked if we were hungry—a new shade of lipstick on her that I have never seen since.

T Kira Madden | Fiction2018-11-02T23:58:01+00:00
2 11, 2014

Rebecca Fishow | Fiction

2018-12-27T02:44:58+00:00

Hello. Excuse. Excuse me. Do you have bourbon? I don’t know what kind. What does the bottle look like? Let me see. Let me see. Oh, anything. What is the rocks?

Rebecca Fishow | Fiction2018-12-27T02:44:58+00:00