Blogs
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DEAR SUGAR, The Rumpus Advice Column #19
I will remind you that you were not born into this world to suffer. Nobody is, actually.
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THE EYEBALL: Vicky Cristina Barcelona
When you grow up being called a faggot by farm boys because you like to read books, Woody Allen can appear as something of a savior. That’s my story, anyway. Allen’s early films with their broad appeal mean that even…
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“Danse Macabre, Mississippi” by Anna Journey
Danse Macabre, Mississippi: My Great-Grandmother Fires a BB Gun There were black-eyed Susans loose at the hip, the limp magnolia blooms worked to a quiver. There were white necks of her Belgian hens sent cracking. The day Baby Grace died…
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DEAR SUGAR, The Rumpus Advice Column #18
Do his other good qualities outweigh his inconsideration in this matter? I have a hunch you already know the answer to that one.
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THE EYEBALL: There Will Be Blood
Sometimes I just want an actor to take a movie by the fuckin’ balls. I’m thinking of Benicio del Toro in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas or Jack Nicholson in The Shining. Add to that rogue’s gallery of scenery…
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Somalian Refugee Writers Show the Way
Dadaab is not an oasis. There is no water. In July, food rations are expected to be cut back to 1000 calories a day. The camps are short 38,000 latrines. Every year only twenty students from the entire camp escape…
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The Last Book I Loved: Hunts In Dreams
In the end, Hunts In Dreams is not a particularly deep book. But it’s rich, strange, comforting and sad all at once.
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THE LONELY VOICE #7, The Rumpus Short Story Column: My Son the Murderer
In honor of Governor Mark Sanford and Michael Jackson’s (bless his Indiana soul) favorite holiday, today’s Lonely Voice is devoted to dads, interesting, fascinating, All-American dads…