Prose

“We Have Rearranged Your Local Grocery Store and We Don’t Give a Fuck What You Think About It,” by Laura Jackson Roberts

Feb 19th, 2020 | By

Welcome to your favorite chain grocery store! You may notice we’re in a bit of disarray this week. That’s because we’re implementing a fantastic new layout to improve your retail experience. And guess what? We don’t give a fuck what you think about it.                 



“My Summer in Gabon,” by Eric Brill

Feb 12th, 2020 | By

I’m not a fan of the national anthem. Sure, it’s beautiful in the way that ancient things are beautiful. Like when you see an old picture of your grandma, and you say, “Wow, grandma, you sure were pretty. I guess, technically, you’re still pretty compared to other old people.”



“My Little Visitor,” by Helen Beer

Feb 5th, 2020 | By

I was twelve when my “little visitor” arrived for the first time. Its arrival was heralded by my mother as a “first taste of womanhood.” Frankly, in spite of her obvious enthusiasm, I found it a damn nuisance, nothing more. I can’t say I wasn’t prepared, though.



“Hello? Anybody Out There? . . . Speak Up!” by Dave Rosner

Jan 29th, 2020 | By

Given the right conditions, a single cell could mutate and then reproduce itself over and over, forming a new species, or something resembling a former colleague who was run over by a cement truck and survived, though he leaned to the right when walking. It is no wonder that this man—who spoke with a lisp, stuttered, and suffered from incurable hiccups—had trouble communicating, for aside from giving a lecture or a speech now and then, Vladimir Matzkvech’s chosen method of imparting his brilliance was to preserve his thoughts on paper. With his untimely death, (Matzkvech passed away at the age of 97), a collection of his papers are scheduled to be released this week in a book entitled To the Apogee.



“You Are Reminded That Your Safety is Your Own Responsibility,” by Janna L. Goodwin

Jan 22nd, 2020 | By

I’m traveling alone, renting a cabin at a normally tranquil spot on the bank of the Big Laramie River at the edge of the Medicine Bow National Forest up in Wyoming. You won’t stumble upon Woods Landing on your way to someplace else, because that’s not where it is, and you’ve never been there on purpose.