We never really lived there. We were just occupants. Not much more than squatters, but I detest that word, as it implies destitution, squalor, and illegality. No, there was nothing sinister or nefarious behind our status. We were in transition; our stay was temporary.
Read MoreDirect Message from April Mitchell
Mar 9 – 5:15 PM
OMG MAGGIE ARE YOU OKAY
Directors and members of the community attending in person or via Zoom, good evening. I know many of you are eager to hear my comments regarding my recent trip over Thanksgiving break about which so many have said so much on social media, but there are other matters I should tend to first.
Read MoreEverybody’s Everybody by Brady Achterberg My friend Dan died the other day. That’s fine by me apparently. I don’t get sad for shit. I am a dumb animal that only responds to physical pain. I used to think it was because I was young but now I’m 31 and the…
Read MoreThe Unexpected Dryness of a Lemon Poppy Scone By Jacob Ginsberg Eight pages into Arundhati Roy’s God of Small Things, after being stunned to find I’ve somehow plagiarized a book I’ve never opened, I linger over the text on Sophie Mol’s tombstone: A SUNBEAM LENT TO US TOO BRIEFLY; I…
Read MoreMascot By Beth McMurray My mom had postpartum depression. Not the baby blues type, but the type where she took off and left and went back to Tennessee, to the parts where trailer trash fit right in, leaving my dad and me living in a house atop a liquor store…
Read MoreEncounter By Benjamin Kessler Turns out Studs Henry had been keeping exotic animals on eleven acres east of Red Butte. That’s pretty fucked, forcing zebras and meerkats to freeze through the high plains winters. Making things worse was the fact that, right before Studs ate his gun, he opened all…
Read MoreThe Sound of Silence By Amanda Hays Ray couldn’t decide which of the oozing, bleeding bags of meat would most please his brother. The overhead lights in the meat section of the Piggy Wiggly were dim, the air cool. After much deliberation, he tossed one of the packages into his…
Read MoreLeaving Leaf River by Hannah Kroonblawd The dining room’s hardwood floor was waxed so mirror-like that Rebekah could see her face reflected off it. Mom had never put down a rug, thinking it too expensive or too stuffy or too much like Jenna Fairchild’s dining room, all cut glass and…
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