2014 – September 1 – The Bonaire Feel-Good
August is here, and we’re reading “The Bonaire Feel-Good” by Guilie Castillo-Oriard.
There’s a new bounce in Luis Villalobos’s step this Monday morning. He takes the sweeping stairs to the Ehrlich Fiduciary building two by two and dances a Rocky Balboa victory hop, face lifted up to the morning sun , at the summit. The wind in his ears could be the roar of an adoring crowd.
It’s always a great opening to the month to read the latest goings-on in Luis Villalobos’s colorful life. This month finds him in a jovial mood, which makes us happy too. But there’s an undercurrent. And this is what I’d like to focus on here–the ways Continue reading
2014 – August 31 – Gingerhead Man
On the 31st, we’re reading “Gingerhead Man” by h.l. nelson.
I may have really fucked up this time. I just got back from a night at the karaoke bar … and somewhere else afterward. I’m in my art room, not wanting to get into bed. What the hell am I thinking?
Joan Colderman has been through a lot this year. What began as simple class resentment with a comic twist progressed last month through a stage of open rebellion (also quite funny, but with a tinge of dangerous risk), and now threatens to evolve into full-blown human tragedy as Joan finds herself pushing the limits of her own domestic Continue reading
2014 – August 30 – Eli Dangott
On the 30th day, we’re reading “Eli Dangott” by Joanne Jagoda.
“Liat, are you there? Ma nishma?”
“I’m good. We are about ten minutes from you sitting in a Starbucks on Judah St. How’s it going Eli? Still up on the pole?”
“Liat, you sound just like an American teenager.”
“I’ve been studying Cassie’s voice, and you know I’m good with accents.”
Last month left us wondering whether both Anne and David might be in danger. We knew David was part of a conspiracy to kidnap one of Anne’s daughters and that it’s related to a secret Project Octopus. Mainly, we’ve been concerned that Anne’s loneliness might do her in, Continue reading
2014 – August 29 – Trypophobia
It’s the 29th day, and we’re reading “Trypophobia” by Vanessa Wiebler Paris.
Every day I go to work and leave Iris behind. Home , alone.
What I know about Iris: She’s fascinated by bones. Broken bones. My bones.
What I know about Iris: Like her floral namesake, she is beautiful and bewitching.
What I know about Iris: She is the first woman who has kissed me. Who has said she loves me.
What I know: She loves her art more than she’ll ever love me. Or herself.
Last month left Slim Jim in a precarious position. He’d found someone to love him, but what she really loves, it seems, is Continue reading
2014 – August 28 – Kununurra
On the 28th day we’re reading “Kununurra” by Kimberlee Smith.
She’s been on the road for a month, my mum Maybell, on a trip that wouldn’t take anyone else in the world more than a fortnight, and that’d be with plenty of stops along the way. She’s traveling from our home in Sydney to the outskirts of Kununurra in the Kimberley region, where, she’s been told by members of her old congregation after belabored inquiries, that Brother Tom Bend set his sights on finding a particularly sinful and barbaric aboriginal tribe he believes he can save through prayer and deliverance . Brother Tom is her ex-husband and my daddy. We hadn’t seen him Continue reading
2014 – August 27 – Samford, a Motel 6 Couch, and the Blonde Woman
It’s the 27th and time for “Samford, a Motel 6 Couch, and the Blonde Woman” by Nathaniel Tower.
Samford is feeling rather horny, which is a good thing because he has found himself on top of a blonde -haired woman on a couch in the lobby of a Motel 6. There is no one behind the desk, and the blonde has her hands down his pants. It’s the first time he’s been with a blonde woman. At least he thinks it is.
The Samford series is an enigma all right. We have your clones, your sexy women clones, your Olympic clones, your fast food clones, and now Continue reading
2014 – August 26 – Q
On the 26th day we’re reading “Q” by Gary Percesepe.
How did I meet her?
We were both members of an online community, where writers from around the world would post their stories, poems, and essays , and comment on the writing of others. I cannot remember if she commented on my work first, or if I commented on hers. But I do remember reading one of her stories, which was an alphabet of desire. She wrote as someone who knew about the messiness of human relationships, and sex – connected and disconnected from love – but more, she seemed to understand the smallest calibrations of the human heart, how restless we are Continue reading