I hate to disappoint you, but I’m no deity. I’m no daredevil. I’m the crown Prince of klonopin and I lie awake most nights reliving incidents where I wish I’d had the strength, the smarts, the agency to overthrow the dining room table, injuring every last deserving son of a bitch, and walking away like a strong black woman brandishing a grenade. Instead, I said nothing. I’m small, I’m sick, I’m nonconfrontational for my own good. I can’t help but identify with my favorite Greek goddess– before she went 2.0. But first, let me tell you: this weekend I was … Continue reading A Loving Factoid Tribute to Hestia, Demure Greek Goddess of the Hearth, the Home, and of Introverts Who Are This F@$#ing Sick of Your Bullsh*t
A 100% true account of the inspiration behind my next entry. Gratuitous kitten enclosed. Continue reading Oracle! (Includes Kitten Pic)
Pieta Alone and alive inside myself, beside my fatherin the 6th Floor’s sprawling TV room; I’m halfwaythrough my final walk of the night, moreof a pained shuffle. Outside,everything is frost and darknesssave the death sentence imposed as if by lottery—to lay my head without question atop the stumpof an oak—it ends here—the swift slam of a cleaver:I swore sideways, upside down, even backwardsin French and the bishop, rejoicing, absolved my sins.I came back not much later, and he was gone.The new one cared only to condemn my queerness;my death was such a bore. Creation grovels out of agony,never love, and … Continue reading A Poem, Submitted for Your Approval. Or Bloodthirsty Ridicule. You decide!
FIRST INSTALLMENT OF A LIFE-ALTERING TEN PART SERIES This comprehensive guide, compiled alpha-numerically by secret ballot yet in no specific order, would never have been possible without the tireless work of the Indignancy Committee of the Exalted Order of the … Continue reading Ten Underrated Horror/Thriller Films to Slam Dunk into Your Pre-Apocalyptic Bucket List:
The Cinematic and Cultural Legacy of Agatha Christie’s 1939 Breakthrough And Then There Were None Hailed a masterpiece, lauded the best selling mystery novel of all time by critics who’ve never heard of Sherlock Holmes, And Then There Were None was a whodunit crafted long before its spawn of copycats and 80 years later its genius puzzles a new generation of rooftop sleuths. Published in 1939, the premise of this prototype to the modern era of slasher films is simple yet enthralling, a lightning fast read concerning ten strangers lured under sketchy pretenses to an island mansion for the weekend … Continue reading “The Killer is Not Out There. The Killer is n here. It is One of Us.”
You know, the near-freezing temperatures don’t bother me. But when you add wind to the mix, the entire state of Louisiana plunges their heads into the dirt like ostriches. I wanted to share with you my street two years go … Continue reading For Deb, in Defiance of 140 Characters:
This week I’ve been slogging through everyone’s fourth-favorite 19th Century sleeper hit Jane Eyre, a somewhat tedious and blatantly shameless rip-off of Sherri Browning Erwin’s bloody masterpiece Jane Slayre, available at Amazon and other fine literary retailers. Charlotte Bronte’s re-envisioning, anemic and prudish as it may be, has actually startled me with an occasional gobsmacking crafty whopper of a sentence, such as this passage from Chapter 12, after something about some guy on a horse: “When I came to the stile, I stopped a minute, looked round and listened, with an idea that a horse’s hoofs might ring on the … Continue reading Guest Blogger: Charlotte Bronte
I’m a terrible writer. Abysmal. It doesn’t get much worse than this. And it’s all I’ve ever wanted to do with my life. It’s an obsession, an unstoppable drive. The very thought of writing, of acceptance letters and books and libraries and page after saturated page gathering atop my desk in small mountains– my body feels beautifully flooded. There’s nothing in existence that can compete with this passion. So why am I so inept and unqualified to follow through? I recently read an article extolling the virtues of hushed, spontaneous writing; no editing, no overthinking or second-guessing, just blasting the … Continue reading And Then I Found Myself Here