Voices on Addiction: Vessel
We both can disappear in our own ways, can’t we?
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Posts Tagged: brothers
Rumpus Original Fiction: Barong
Appearance aside, my boss took his work seriously.
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Hope Past the Page: A Conversation with Matthew Clark Davison
Matthew Clark Davison discusses his debut novel, DOUBTING THOMAS.
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Uncollapsing Memory: A Conversation with Vince Granata
Vince Granata discusses his debut memoir, EVERYTHING IS FINE.
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Voices on Addiction: Fallen
There is no finality to this grief. Only a series of losses, compounded.
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Voices on Addiction: Primary Source
Anything we write now is a primary source.
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Father Time Is Undefeated
It’s a strange thing, seeing a reliable machine fail. Seeing a hero crash to earth.
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Voices on Addiction: The Opposite of Hallelujah
When I imagine his days, the loneliness of it all makes my chest tighten.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: The Basement
Looking back, it feels like I knew.
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TORCH: The Reunion
He was and still is a stranger, uninhabitable and distant like a whisper in a language I don’t quite understand.
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Voices on Addiction: What We Forget, What We Remember
I don’t remember when [my brother] ran away; I just remember him being gone more often than not.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: One of Them Dies
We seldom forget when people promise to give us something, whether we need or want that thing or not. I promise you death, you want a death.
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The Dark All Around Us
There is still light in the dark. This is the paradox that Little Bear has to accept in order to fall asleep.
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The Rumpus Mini-Interview Project #113: Tom Stern
“[T]his admittedly bizarre idea just came into focus for me that Walter was actually pregnant with his own twin brother who would be obsessed with getting his MBA.”
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Come Together through Bodies: Jennifer Colville’s Elegies for Uncanny Girls
The female body here is as palpable as image. As the images and objects transform, so does the female’s body.
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Voices on Addiction: The Honeybee
She never stopped, a bee buzzing from flower to flower to flower, collecting all the sweetness she could.
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Conversations with Writers Braver Than Me: Jessica Berger Gross
Jessica Berger Gross discusses her new memoir, Estranged: Leaving Family and Finding Home, walking away from her parents age of twenty-eight, and the importance of boundaries.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: Straw House
“It’s not healthy, how you live. People aren’t meant to sleep all day. We need the sun. We’re meant to live in the sun.”
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The Saturday Rumpus Essay: The Savage Mind, Pt. 2
There isn’t even a discussion. There aren’t any words. You just start swinging—the building is a fence, your cousins are a fence. The two of you are surrounded. There’s no escape for either of you.
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The Sunday Rumpus Essay: Pet the Dog
It would be simple to say that she is missing the internal formulation that makes one enthusiastic about dogs. And that would be true, partially. Was she, as their mother once said, a cold fish?
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Letter to Jim
Many days I couldn’t see the way forward, but I kept going, the way you had. It was you, after all, who taught me how to stay.
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Fitting Characters and Scripts
Unwittingly, my mother teaches me in this conversation her generation’s word for gay: 同性恋. I look it up in an online dictionary, three characters in my mother’s tongue. Same, sex, and love.
...moreAn Open Letter to My Brother, A Trump Supporter
Dear John, I, like so many other Americans, spent the past weeks worrying, crying, and searching for the people around me that I loved so they could be beacons when I felt most battered. I did not seek you out, did not call or text you, did not respond to your victory message because I […]
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The Saturday Rumpus Essay: Red Whole
I’ve become an abridged version of myself—made half-done and meager. Made hungry for answers.
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Farewell, Professor Wiesel
Faith is about action, Professor Wiesel said that day. Faith is about what you do with that faith. Belief in God is to do, not to accept. So always the question: what can we do?
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Albums of Our Lives: Red Hot Chili Peppers’ Blood Sugar Sex Magik
Before you came along, I don’t think I actually had a musical identity.
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Boy of My Youth
In my desperate attempts to keep my secret I learned to shut everyone out, to become as closed as a fist.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: Monkey Men
Still lying on the bed in the Wausau hotel room, I started counting ceiling tiles. From above the covers. Not under. Never under. I always feel constricted, under.
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