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In Which We Tuck The Blossom Behind Our Ear
Love in the Mountains by ARIANA ROBERTS “Yehpeudah,” I tell her. She thanks me in Korean, and our guide proudly says she’s marrying the richest man in the village. He was married before, and has a...
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In Which We Simply Cannot Go Back to Them
The Bottom Row Of Ribs by CHARLES HENRI FORD This is the second in a series. You can read the first part here. I took a terrace walk and saw the most brilliant falling star — I always make the same...
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In Which We Won't Order Anyone To Go With You
Died for the Watch by DICK CHENEY That feeling: when it's been too long since you have had a Thrones-ing. Watching King Tommen fawn over a cat named Sir Pounce doesn't quite fill the hole inside...
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In Which This All Seems Vaguely Familiar
Minnesota Mean by KARA VANDERBIJL Fargo creator Noah Hawley This is a true story. So claim the opening credits of Noah Hawley’s Fargo, a television spin-off of the Coen brothers’ 1996 film of the same...
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In Which We Begin To Conflate Our Identity
Liza with a Z by ELIZABETH BARBEE I am prone to self-pity. The smallest things make me question my worth: a torn stocking, a bad picture, an angry driver flipping me the bird. I am particularly...
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In Which We Can Tell He Has Not Changed
Ad Nauseum by JOSIANE CURTIS He smokes three cigarettes in the time it takes me to drink two beers. Our first trip to the patio, I sit on a bench to his right. He notices the smoke drifting my...
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In Which We Regret Our Mother Did Not Smoke
Compound by SUMEJA TULIC I remember the bathtub at the end of the compound, all rusty, its sides suddenly white and then rusty again. Somebody had put this small tub there, at the end of the world,...
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In Which We Put You All On Trial For Your Thronesing
You Will Have Been Thronesed by DICK CHENEY If there's one aspect of life at which I never fail, even for a moment, it is determining whether or not a thing is racist. (Everything is sexist, so it...
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In Which We Sink In A Shallow Tub
Ex Nihilo by JANEA KELLY "I’m not sad anymore.” I say it entering the bathroom, my worn Brand New t-shirt pulling over my head and falling just outside the threshold. I’m mumbling to myself but it’s...
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In Which We Get Pretty Used To Being With Gwyneth
The Clocks Represented Soy Gelato by ALEX CARNEVALE There is a point near the end of the new Coldplay album Ghost Stories where Chris Martin compares his relationship to the mother of his children...
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In Which We Do Not Allow Our Mind To Go There Very Often
The Condo by ELIZABETH J. THEIS I’ve wanted to write about The Condo for years, so when I was approached and given a deadline, I did what any gal would do: I put my blinders on and pretended it didn’t...
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In Which We Clean It Use It Or Send It Away
La Casa Azul by CARMEN AIKEN At night in San Miguel, Bernadette drove us up the road from the Casa Azul. The trip to Guanajuato took around four hours, long stretches of last century’s interstate,...
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In Which We Celebrate The Return Of Hot Pie With The Same
you incredible selection of man Kidney Trouble by DICK CHENEY A matinee idol can emerge from almost anywhere. His charismatic energy infiltrates every aspect of a scene; his raw sexual charisma...
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In Which It Was Due To Drugs And Denial
The Bubble by MOLLY CAMERON You might find this hard to believe, but there are actually some upsides to living in a hospital room while recovering from major injuries. Here are a few examples: 1)...
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In Which We Find This Difficult To Articulate
Hard to Say is This Recording’s weekly advice column. It will appear every Wednesday until the Earth perishes in a fiery blaze, or until North West turns 40. Get no-nonsense answers to all of your...
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In Which We Change Our Attitude Towards Meat
Don't You Miss It? by BREANNA LOCKE It was a celebration. My friends and loved ones were scattered around me at a park, and the balmy weather confirmed that spring was inching closer and closer to...
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In Which She Has Nothing To Do And Nowhere To Go
Nerve and Blood by KYLEE LUCE April in my small mountain city always slams the senses with such a boisterous beauty, its cruel, tiny daggers through your body with every bursting pink tree. Two years...
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In Which We Keep Susan Sontag's Notebook Forever
As she got older, the journals of Susan Sontag become both noticeably more mature while retaining the essential naivete that allows any person to keep making artistic insights into middle age. Her...
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In Which The House Of Cards Is All Up In Here
The following screed contains spoilers for the second season of House of Cards. Reader discretion is advised. Frank In All Directions by DICK CHENEY We admit with all sincerity that our first duty is...
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In Which We Find This Onerous To Explain
Hard to Say is This Recording’s weekly advice column. It will appear every Wednesday until the Earth perishes in a fiery blaze, or until North West turns 40. Get no-nonsense answers to all of your...
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