Lonesome Was the Blacktop
At my dad’s house in Tucson, almost everything I picked up was expired. The contact solution. The Aspirin. The Frosted Mini Wheats. I consumed all of it anyway. So far, none of it has killed me.
Posts by: Anna Pulley
How I Learned to Fight
At the Jackson Arms shooting range in South San Francisco, we were issued earmuffs so tight I felt the beginnings of a headache
Sex as Art: Sadie Lune Queers Our Conceptions of Conception
The Bay Area is no stranger to the provocative. Nary a rally, street fair or Sunday stroll exists without the backdrop of a few naked men in cock rings and pink faux-hawks. Taco trucks are protested with “puke-ins.” And spectators can always drop in to the monthly porn wrestling matches at the Armory if dinner and a movie is too passé.
...moreSuppose I Kept on Singing Love Songs Just to Break My Own Fall
I don’t remember what I was doing when my aunt called to tell me my father was dying.