Bodily stories, essays, poems and interviews, updated every month.
let’s finally admit that the Clueless movie soundtrack is and will always be our favorite album of the year, and maybe someone will replace all the percussion to the classic Star Wars theme with Metallica’s St. Anger snare drum sound
She’s piss drunk, slumped over on the cheap card table crammed against the trailer wall. The cool, thin strips of fake wood press against her forehead. The trailer’s got no heat, no electricity. She hunches over to stay warm.
Ghosts from the past lurk in the Indian archives of the British Library. They turn up in unexpected files, opening doors to forgotten histories
Sometimes I would look at her and wonder if I should leave again, if I should go home to my life across an ocean. No matter her eyes, I always got on that plane—the necessary cruelty of being a daughter.
Eddie filled out the application, made photocopies of his mother’s death certificate, signed the waiver allowing her grave to be exhumed, then gathered the forms together with a big, sturdy paperclip.