Absolutely everything has been said about the death of the mother. It’s enormous. It’s bigger than a brontosaurus. It’s like its own planet. How in the end, the mother curls up like a fingernail or an apple stem on the coffee table. And how desperately sad that is. It’s almost unbearable. Those bastard details of the body going down. And yet, in the end, the … Continue reading The Day My Mother Died by Leanne Grabel
O Morrissey. Filled with a dichotomous blend of love and hate for people and things (but not animals). Perhaps this uncontrollable mixture of sentiments is what prompted him to release Autobiography—or (as the long-winded section on The Smiths lawsuits indicates) a need for more money. There are several facts that become clear in Autobiography. Chief among them is that Morrissey is the loneliest person on … Continue reading The Heart-Bleeding Pages of Autobiography
I’m a runaway from Commack, Long Island, left home when I’d turned only two and that same spring had a truly torrid fling with a pandemonious she-panther from the surly wrong side of the alley, soon thereafter landing in a trap for vagrant, feral cats, very much like the one I’d recently become. Turns out that at my would-be mother-in-law’s beckoning, I moved in on … Continue reading “from Jubilate Neoleo (Harry, his cat)” by Larry Jones
some rice pudding with raisins green bagels and cream cheese life on unemployment lifestyle of the sleaze japanese morning glories from the museum shop life on unemployment cash flow from a sop what’s it really all about you lead this life of mirth what’s it all, really, lawrence what’s it really, lawrence, worth Continue reading “mccauley’s morning after (st. pat’s)” by Lawrence Worth Jones
