Columns
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Some Tips for Emily Dickinson
We’ve all heard stories of publishing houses unwittingly rejecting future classics or bestsellers—most recently the detective novel J. K. Rowling wrote under a pseudonym. But have you ever wondered how your favorite authors would fare in a writing workshop? Jayne…
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“No Offense”
Poet and Twitter personality Patricia Lockwood has an intensely good (and just plain intense) poem up The Awl. It’s called “Rape Joke,” and it starts like this: The rape joke is that you were 19 years old. The rape joke…
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A Tragic Passing
A great tragedy struck the world this week: Print is dead. The Onion has more information on the well-respected medium’s passing at age 1,803: “I’m in absolute shock right now,” said Charles Townsend, CEO of Condé Nast Publications, who reportedly worked…
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Dan Weiss’s Morning Coffee
Dan Weiss is on tour with his band for the next three plus weeks, but fear not: We’ll still be serving up your morning coffee. It’s not Atlantis but they found a 1200 year old city in the Mediterranean. And this…
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R.I.P. Richard Matheson: Why Film Adaptations of His Work Have Been So Terrible
Legendary science fiction author and screenwriter Richard Matheson, who unfortunately passed away a little over a month ago, has had his work adapted into a plethora of movies—I Am Legend, The Box, The Shrinking Man, What Dreams Will Come, etc.—which, unfortunately, haven’t all fared…
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Colt 1911: A Partial Timeline
“Eli. The gun is in my bedroom. There are bullets in there, too. I don’t need to worry about you guys, do I?”
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The Rumpus Interview with Peter Squires
Peter Squires describes playing in bands as his “favorite social activity,” and by that standard he is a very social fellow.
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On Being “Smart Dumb”
Kenneth Goldsmith, who was recently appointed MoMA’s “poet laureate,” shares over at The Awl a manifesto of sorts advocating for “smart dumb,” which he claims is an alternative to “both smart smart and dumb dumb, choosing instead to walk a tightrope…
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Self-Love at Size 24
I remember meeting with my thesis advisor in my final week of college. I was the thinnest I’d ever been, a size 12. Starvation shrank my stomach into a fist. I felt dizzy, but I felt light, and that was…


