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In Which There Is A Lamb On That Building
Animal Movement by MAGGIE LANGE Dotting the roadside of US Highway 395 - or the 395 because this is California - there will be a series of painting on the sides of old, sometimes abandoned buildings....
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In Which We Do Not Belong Here
Blending In by DAYNA EVANS A friend once told me to “Do you” when I was having a crisis at a coffee shop. That friend, despite my sincerest intentions, is still alive today. When I didn’t know who the...
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In Which We Left This House Empty
You can find the archive of our Saturday fiction series here. Proper Business by DAN CARVILLE Value judgments are destructive to our proper business, which is curiosity and awareness. - John Cage "Let...
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In Which We Give You A Body
Encounter by KARA VANDERBIJL I have a hard time with art galleries, whether they are very small rooms on the way to work or large museums packed with artifacts. I would like to enjoy my time in them...
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In Which Fox’s Grandmother Shows Us Her Beads
They're Beautiful by ARIANNE WACK When I was 22 years old I fell in love for the third time. Her name was Lucy and she was just the thing I never knew I wanted. My collegiate lesbian fling went wrong...
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In Which We Continue To Move Half-Alive
Tale As Old As Time by DICK CHENEY The Walking Dead creator Frank Darabont Sometimes you can watch a piece of fiction that gives you a new perspective on your own life. Andrea (Laurie Holden) has...
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In Which She Stopped Attending Years Ago
When Will You Come Home? by BRITTANY JULIOUS I We don't talk about status. We pretend that we are black like everyone else and that we are still "real." But our conversations over holiday dinners...
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In Which We Go On After It Happens
What She Doesn't Know by SHELBY SHAW Red Widow creator Melissa Rosenberg ABC’s new series, Red Widow, is the American redo of a Dutch show called Penoza. Aside from this version being shot in...
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In Which There Is Living Proof We Got An Echo
The Sound, The Skyby LINDA EDDINGSIt was more correct to say that he possessed the lizards at times. He made no claims on ownership.Once there had been a skylight there.Some of the animals liked the...
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In Which We Are On A Slightly Different Schedule
Seasonal by TANIA ROHAN It’s always fall in San Francisco. Sure, we might have a day or two that resembles something from another season, a balmy night or a miserably cold afternoon. We might even see...
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In Which It Was Something We Cannot Explain
My Chagall Memwah by ALEX CARNEVALE The Chagalls planned to return to Paris after the Second World War. They waited in New York, Marc and his wife Bella did, exhausted by its crowds and pollution, for...
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In Which We Are Besieged By The Past
by Will George The Inverse of Pleasure by LUCY MORRIS DEAR C, It’s that time of year again, when I’m besieged by the broad past. I call it memory season and when it arrives I might remember in...
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In Which We Regret Divorcing Ben Gibbard
Thinking It's A Sign by CATHALEEN QIAO CHEN Ben Gibbard released a new song with Jenny Lewis a couple weeks ago. You’ve probably heard it already. It’s called “A Tattered Line of String,” and sounds...
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In Which We Flee The Masters
Savoir Faire by MICAH RUELLE “This is an artificial environment,” the professor told the class. “Generally, you all work alone — most writers have to. It’s unnatural to shove all of you in a classroom...
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In Which We Take Off The Gloves
To The Touch by GREG AMELIAN "My first week on the job," Samuel told me. "I can't forget." They had transferred my new partner a few weeks earlier, but Samuel had been forced by his previous...
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In Which We Do Not Care If They Are Smug About It
Never What You Think It Is by SARAH WAMBOLD I am not a lover of crowds. Or networking. Or the hype. So I have never gone to AWP. I don’t mind every community having a national gathering to celebrate...
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In Which We Are Slumped On The Couch By Ourselves
Come On In by VICTORIA HETHERINGTON “You’re sort of breaking up, just — hold on. So — ah — so you’re theorizing that social conformity and transgression exists in mice —” “Not mice with this one,...
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In Which If We Close Our Eyes Maybe They Can't See Us
Greater Power by NATHAN JOLLY Recently I have been coming up with different ways for Steve to die. The first sees him wander, drunk on some overpriced local beer, in front of an ambulance. It is...
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In Which We Sing Past A Window
In Unison by SAMANTHA SCHUYLER A car cries out from a place far away. Someone is leaning on the horn, squarely and securely, because the sound doesn’t let up for a full ten seconds. After the fourth...
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In Which We Expect To Find Some Kind Of Horror At Its Core
Precious Objects by RYAN LINKOF Entering the neatly hung gallery at Regen Projects in Los Angeles, which features the most recent series of photographer Catherine Opie, I felt a bit as if I were...
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