Nonfiction

“The Long Limp,” by St John Karp

Apr 26th, 2017 | By

I’m not disabled, just a terrible person. The boyfriend sometimes accuses me of being manic when I write to him at 3:30 a.m. calling him a magnificent, exotic pitcher plant or a gorgeously ornamented egg-cup. But not disabled — I feel like that’s an important piece of information before we start.



“An Insider’s Guide To Paris From a Guy Who Just Spent a Long Weekend There,” by Tim Eberle

Mar 22nd, 2017 | By

It’s no secret that Paris is one of the world’s truly magical getaway destinations. Renowned far and wide for its art, culture, and world-class dining, a Parisian vacation will soon have even the Beastliest visitor overcome by its Beauty. But in a city cock-full of so many amazing things to see, do and eat, how can anyone be sure that they’re making the most of their European adventure? Well, fear not “mon ami”—I’ve just gotten back from a three-day, two-night stay in “The City By The Lights,” and I’ve compiled the ultimate Insider’s Guide that will soon have you cheering “oui oui!” just like you were a local!



“Period Piece,” by Liz Sheehan

Mar 15th, 2017 | By

I used to have a difficult period. In my teens it would come upon me unannounced at 38 days or 43 days, whenever my uterus decided to get busy. By my early twenties, things had pretty much settled down and my period had become just another small nuisance to be taken care of. Most important was making sure that I was prepared for it. Not being prepared for it on one occasion had led to my crowning moment of street attitude, followed shortly by my crowning moment of street humiliation.



“The Effectiveness of Feeding a Flock of Leucophaeus atricilla as a Method of Counteracting Querulous Behavior in a 10-Year-Old Male Child,” by Laura Jackson Roberts

Mar 1st, 2017 | By

The apathetic pre-adolescent child’s tendency towards whining and boredom when required to participate in a family vacation event has been documented by child psychologists. One method of entertaining a child who prefers video games to outside activity was tested on a 10-year-old male subject. The subject was given a slice of Italian bread and instructed to offer it to a flock of laughing gulls in order observe the length of time he would interact with the birds and if he would have a positive reaction, thereby indicating amusement and providing his parents with an extended period of time devoid of disgruntled complaints during which they might dilute their emotional fatigue with an inhibition-lowering ethyl alcohol.



“Nautical Terms You Can Giggle at But You May be Broken,” by Simon Pinkerton

Feb 22nd, 2017 | By

Poop deck—where you walk about on the boat. The classic rude boating term.

Head—the toilet on a boat, and also a term for oral sex that Lou Reed thought rhymes with “head” (I know, it’s the same word!).

Abreast—when two boats lay together in a way the Bible probably frowns upon; a boob.



“Dear Armpit Picker,” by Ragna (Ronia) Smits

Jan 11th, 2017 | By

Dear Armpit Picker,

Ignoring the “ick” factor, I am astounded, if not awed, by your devotion to personal grooming: shared so generously with everyone in the compartment (bar those glued to their iPhones). Let me applaud you. While your three female companions, shrieking gleefully like starving coyotes over a kill, chose to disregard the no eating or drinking signs posted above them, by cramming their faces with burgers, fries and noisy slurps of bucket-size soda, you remained the outsider, the iconoclast, quietly picking away at your armpit, save for the occasional “shit,” “fuck,” and intensive “motherfucker.” Eyes straining, nay, bulging, tongue hanging out in deep concentration like a thirsty bloodhound. Yours was a very long tongue! I mean, for God’s sake, woman, have you no shame, taking it out in public? Anyway, I jest—and forgive the canine comparison. Undoubtedly, like a bloodhound (and under more auspicious circumstances), you are kind, patient, noble, mild-mannered and lovable. You are certainly persistent!



“The Truth About Farts and People,” by Amrita Chanda

Dec 14th, 2016 | By

Farts are underrated. There! Somebody had to say it out loud and I, for one, have decided that I want to hold it in no more. I don’t know about you, but modern day farting has left me fairly dissatisfied and as a fellow fartsman, roughly discriminated too—the guilt, the secrecy, the cover ups and the denial! Ugh, denial’s the worst… it’s all very exhausting, to say the least. Like everything else in this world, I bet things weren’t this complicated back in the day. Yeah, I’m pretty sure they celebrated farts just as everything else but we don’t hear the history books talk about those, now do we? See? Discrimination.



“The Circumcision,” by Ali Kashkouli

Nov 2nd, 2016 | By

Shiraz, Iran: November 1, 1978. The day I was born. I’d like to say it was a Wednesday, but who the hell knows, I’m not Rainman. And even if I did have a talent for counting errant toothpicks, wrapping one’s mind around temporal exactitude once the International Date Line has been crossed is nearly impossible.

I was a child born into a time of revolution and flux. Iran had only recently deposed their Shah and the first day of the hostage crisis was almost exactly one year away. The world watched with concern as Iran’s 2500 year old monarchal tradition dissolved in a fantastic heap of religious fundamentalism.



“Full Pharma Ahead!” by Herbert H. Hoffman

Oct 12th, 2016 | By

He could not remember that he ever had been well, completely well. But he had faith. Always ready to try something new, he reached for the bottle of “Dopymilstonal, 85MG, Take one or two tablets a day as needed, with or without food”. Those labels are so helpful, so encouraging. One feels better right away because one has hope again. Till next day when the side effects kick in. For some inscrutable reason he tended to be one of those “in rare cases” patients. Sure enough, next morning he felt dizzy and passed a bucket full of pink urine, just as it said in the accompanying little brochure printed on very thin paper in a microscopically small type size. Well, what else is new, he thought, and went to get himself a snack. At night he took another tablet because he felt that it was needed.



“David Strathairn: I Want to See You Lose Your Shit,” by Michael Rodman

Oct 5th, 2016 | By

I’m not exactly sure of the right way to go about this, David Strathairn, so I’m just going to come right out and say it. I would really like to see you, David Strathairn, lose your shit. There. It feels good to finally get it off my chest. I know what you must be thinking: Who the fuck is this guy, a guy who, out of the blue, wants to see me, David Strathairn, lose my shit? Wait—is “fuck” a word that you, David Strathairn, would use? Or even think? Not, I imagine, unless you lost your shit. Which is the whole point. So here we are.