Rumpus Original
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The Rumpus Interview with Brian Gilmore
Kima Jones talks to Brian Gilmore about returning to the ritual of everyday life after the worst of humanity has shown itself publicly, about Duke Ellington and Michael Brown and being a father to daughters.
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We Who Leave
I could not bring myself to talk about losing my last living grandparent, because talking about her would mean talking about the literal and figurative ocean between where I come from and where I am now.
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TED WILSON REVIEWS THE WORLD #254
CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS ★★★★★ Hello, and welcome to my week-by-week review of everything in the world. Today I am reviewing Christopher Columbus.
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Swinging Modern Sounds #58: Crowdsourcing
Music-obsessive activity, in general, appears to be about music. You could, on the surface, mistake it for being about music. But in fact what it is about is memory and love.
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Bradley’s
I grew up in bars. There were a thousand of them in the sweaty little mill town in New Jersey where I was raised, and my father liked them all.
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The Rumpus Weekly Review of Books
A brutal Irish girlhood, a medical procedure that can change your race, and a novel narrated by the brilliant Russian inventor of the theremin—all in this week’s Rumpus Books coverage.
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Adapting to Film: Midnight Cowboy
[Midnight Cowboy] remains, at least nominally, a beloved classic, even though I can’t remember the last time I heard anyone talk about it.
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The Rumpus Late Nite Poetry Show: Oliver de la Paz
In Episode 6 of The Rumpus Late Nite Poetry Show, Dave Roderick chats with poet Oliver de la Paz about his new collection, Post Subject: A Fable, video games, and his weirdest writing habit.
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Crack My Heart Wide Open
Surviving suicide is like balancing on the edge of a blade. Either way the knife flashes, you’re going to get cut.
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The Rumpus Interview with Sean Michaels
The Rumpus talks to Sean Michaels about his new book, Us Conductors, challenging a reader’s empathy, and a true, strange musical instrument: the theremin.
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The Throwaways
Nazir lies buried in the mind’s forbidden faraways, on the margin of the village graveyard, obscured by nettle.
