Posts Tagged ‘ Nonfiction ’

“Let Me Fix Your Language, Germany,” by Robert McGee

Aug 15th, 2018 | By

Learning German is hard. For an English speaker, it’s nearly impossible to figure out why pizza is feminine unless it is an object. “Die Pizza—feminine subject—schemeckt fine,” but, “Kann ich ein Stuck von der Pizza—masculine object—haben?” I would like to think this happens because Germans are progressive, but I know that’s not true. Part of me knows it would be easier to remember if it were the other way around—masculine things become feminine when they are objects—but I hate that part of myself.



“Bend Over for Mama,” by Diane Callahan

Aug 8th, 2018 | By

Usually, I can escape unwanted situations with some degree of finesse. Other times, I am as graceful and articulate as a toddler, particularly when my mother is involved.

When my mom asked if I’d like a ten-session yoga pass for my birthday, I responded with a garbled, “Uhhh, not really, but thanks.” She interpreted this to mean “Yes, of course. I would be delighted to partake in mind-numbing torture at your fine training establishment.”



“Forget the P’s and Q’s: Mind your C’s and K’s, A Cautionary Note for Prospective Parents,” by John S. Walters

Jul 18th, 2018 | By

I am a lifelong liberal of good standing, with impeccable credentials. On one issue, however, I am an unabashed Goldwater conservative. If there’s one thing that raises my ancient hackles, it’s whenever I see the names Cathy and Casey defiled with a K. Why do parents of the newborn err so egregiously? Why favor the fraudulent over the authentic, particularly in matters of enduring importance?



“Spiritual B.O.,” by Claudia Fucigna

May 16th, 2018 | By

You might think patchouli, but that’s not what I mean. I mean spicy shoes left to fumigate by the door. Acrid plastic yoga mats made in China that will take Vedic ages of rebirth to break down in a landfill. Gluten-free soy candles blessed by Peruvian shamans that cost an arm and a leg. Burned sage sitting on top of a seven-layer dip of cologne created by human bodies in motion.



“I Should Listen to More Reggae,” by Diane Callahan

May 2nd, 2018 | By

I once pretended to be Jamaican for five minutes.

Considering the fact that I’m whiter than mozzarella and have lived in Ohio my entire life, this was no small feat.



“10 Ways Not to Like a Thing,” by Nolan Yard

Apr 11th, 2018 | By

1. Before you try not to like it, already make up your mind that you will not like it—this makes it so much easier.



“Universe Hoppers, My Brethren,” by Maura Yzmore

Apr 4th, 2018 | By

I leave the pharmacy, wiping off snot with my sleeve, my head stuffier than a high-school locker room. I carry nose drops, antihistamines, and the good decongestant for which I must flash my driver’s license because lesser meth cooks than Walter White use it as raw material.



“How to Avoid Getting Asked to Be a Bridesmaid,” by Cassie Title

Mar 21st, 2018 | By

First, be antisocial. In kindergarten, when the teacher asks you to share crayons and play nicely with the other children, don’t. There’s no point. You don’t want to be friends with these fools who pick their noses and use their booger-smothered fingers to touch your back when you all play tag at recess. In fact, make sure you don’t play tag at recess.



“The Doll,” by Amaya Duran

Mar 7th, 2018 | By

She was Pocahontas in her school play this year. “Because I’m dark,” she told us. Her hair is black and hangs straight down her bony shoulders. Her hands are small and soft as she pulls me through the hall.

Mariella. She’s my blood and two years older so I listen.



“Hold the Cheese,” by Mike Frenkel

Jan 17th, 2018 | By

On this day, I had reached the limit of my tolerance. It had gone too far and I now felt compelled to express my disdain for the ubiquity of cheese that has spread like a noxious malignancy throughout our culinary culture. Yes. You heard me. CHEESE! Fromage. Parmesan. Pec-er-ino roman-o. Cheddar. Prov-a-lone. Monterey Jack. I spit out these words like profanities.