Archive for ‘July, 2014’

Nonfiction writers – How many of these have you read?

Today, I came across a link to this list of the 10 best nonfiction pieces of the past 50 years. They are all classics, but I must confess, there are still a couple I haven’t read. If you are a fan of creative nonfiction, I highly recommend these! After a weekend away in Newport eating lobster roll after lobster hash after lobster bisque, I think it may be time for a reread of David Foster Wallace’s humorous yet thought-provoking “Consider the Lobster”. Or maybe after my trip to San Francisco, it is time to revisit Joan Didion’s “Slouching Towards …

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5 Ways to Eat Kale – Getting Creative with Produce

You wouldn’t think that a New Yorker would ever have the problem of too much produce on hand. You go to the corner store, pick up enough zucchini for that recipe you found and cook it. Right?

There has been a recent surge in urban farming, farmers markets and CSAs throughout Brooklyn and the rest of New York. People, despite being surrounded by cement and only seeing trees surrounded by guards, want to know where there food is coming from and get back in touch with their food supply. Community gardens and rooftop farms are cropping up all over the …

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Featured: Sam Beebe, Dad, the Maker

Dad, The Maker

Sam Beebe

My dad started I don’t know how many novels before he finished his first—when he was 52 years old. I would occasionally see printed-out sections of the novels, lying on the big cherry table that served as our family computer desk. I’d read a paragraph or two before my interest would fizzle—surely, more the fault of my buzzing teenaged mind than the engagingness of the writing. Also, I knew he was private, and superstitious, about most of his writing, so I, already halfway logged on to America Online, would happily abide what I guessed would …

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Featured: Unraveling, Arya Jenkins

UNRAVELING

Arya F. Jenkins

 

I am wrapping my un-chicken salad to take to work. Jean says, “You’re doing that wrong. Plus you need more pita.” A few minutes later, as I apply lipstick, she tells the mirror, “I just read on Yahoo, lipstick is bad for you.”

 

Jealous of these things because they touch my mouth, she is attempting to reclaim me. A silver pen bought at Tiffany’s last week meant to remind me of her generosity and ownership.

But I am not hers.

She is the one who said to me, “Come out here to live with me. …

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Featured: Dan Kelty, Outlook

Outlook

Dan Kelty

This winter promises to be

one for the record books, like

1978 when the garage collapsed

under the snow and ice.

We’re going to suffer each time we

step out of the house and reach for

the thin newspaper in its sheer

plastic sleeve,

and damn

near break our necks on the

driveway ice once a day.

Many will cross their fingers each time

they turn the ignition and hear the grind

of frozen iron;

perhaps even break a key off, like

my older brother did in the frail light

of December 1971 when the sky looked…

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Featured: Fiction by Edmund Zagorin

The Lone Inhabitant of the Gratiot South-Leg Traffic-Control Island

Edmund Zagorin

A traffic-control island is a defined area between traffic lanes

for control of vehicle movements or for … refuge.

     — Manual on Uniform Traffic Control Devices, Part IV,

  “Islands” Section 4A-1 “The Functions of Islands” 1961

The form of a single body lies utterly still on a little triangle of Detroit. In between the clumps of tall grass, still green despite the summer heat, the body doesn’t move even one muscle. There’s a grimy baseball cap clutched to the body’s head by a handful of rundown fingernails. This body …

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Featured: Doug Bolling, The Speaking Poem

The Speaking Poem

Doug Bolling

Human beings continually record their individuality in the creases of the language….

Claude Hagege, The Dialogic Species

What is a poem the Zen master said

but a small breach in the blindness

of seeing as others have seen.

What is a poem but a feather

lifting and falling in an

immensity.

Brothers and Sisters.

If to meet on the bridge

that is the poem.

If to let go the ligatures

that bind the language

of everyday.

I suggest to you:

poem is the secret agent

of our emancipation

out of the maze

out of …

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Featured: Rachel Lyon, The Beetle Leopard

The Beetle Leopard

Rachel Lyon

THE BEETLE LEOPARD was about the size of a large cocker spaniel, with a coat like the coat of a tortoiseshell cat: uneven, mostly dark, of mottled browns and blacks. The private company that kept him in his vivarium on Pigeon Street claimed he was the only beetle leopard on Earth. Under the glass, which was always smudged with fingerprints, was a plaque:

This Beetle Leopard Was Rescued by S. Barry Gibson

Co-Founder and C.E.O. of Gibson and Bree,

from Poachers on the Island of Borneo.

Please Do Not Disturb the Beetle Leopard.

He Is

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Featured: Damien Cowger, Thursday Night in College Town

Thursday Night in College Town

Damien Cowger

Franklin Avenue is alive
with creeping night crawlers
trolling the jaundice-washed asphalt.

Everyone wants to fuck or fight
everyone else, trying to out-do the next person

in either case. The heirs of newfound freedom

take boisterous voices and blend them
with dark shades
of parentless weekends
and loans upon loans
spent on cheap beer and plastic cups.

Ping pong balls swirl
in a whirligig night, the sky orange,
the baseball hats askew,
the leggings gripping hard, separating sex-

starved minds and bodies
from each other by thin fabric
as synthetic as the moment …

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Featured: Suzanne Richardson, Utica High

Utica High 

Suzanne Richardson

It’s me and Franco Franco and we’re laugh rattling in the back of chemistry class like a pair of rotten tomatoes, like two tennis shoes tied together, like telephone cord curled in on itself, like the horizontal red white and green the other boys see when we punch their socks out.

It’s me and Franco Franco and we’re crammed in his sick-ass yellow mustang, our eyes watering, our cocks growing like hot commas against our jeans as we look at all the boom-boom babies at the burger joint, all the Mary Maries, and the Angelinas, and …

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