When Wanda bought the house, she didn’t imagine that anyone in the community would recognize that she and Lynn were queer.
The baby had come from a place none of us could remember. Our grandmother was headed there.
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When Wanda bought the house, she didn’t imagine that anyone in the community would recognize that she and Lynn were queer.
The baby had come from a place none of us could remember. Our grandmother was headed there.
The author of Mother of God discusses the limitations of realism, Frank Bidart, and the anguished duality of shame.
Standing in the wreckage of these spaces unlocks a sensation people often crave, but can’t name.
It’s an imagined past, a pastoral imaginary, an alternate timeline in the multiverse.
Talking to the author of Wagnerism about uncovering counter-narratives, keeping a healthy skepticism of your relationship with art, and totalitarian intolerance of eccentric creativity.
Despair too is contagious. We share it as we shed a spore.
Runners were perfectly suited for 2020. You’re telling us we get to stay more than breathing distance away from any other people? What’s the catch?
I have no idea what history will make of 2020, but the only record I have kept of this cursed year are blurry photos of shrubs.
The point is to accept that our impulses cannot save us from impermanence, that change and failure and death are inevitable—that stillness, as much as movement, is divine.