crush
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Touch Me
Some people say that the humidity in Pennsylvania makes them feel suffocated. That night, and even now, it makes me feel loved.
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What to Read When You’re a Whiting Award Winner
The 2018 Whiting Awards winners share books that have inspired them, plus a giveaway!
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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 Storming Bohemian Punks the Muse #13: Such Stuff That Dreams Are Made Of
Do you keep a dream journal? I started as a teenager, and continue on-and-off. Sometimes I can’t tell the difference between a dream and a memory. Does this happen to you? Or am I confessing to something strange and pathological?…
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Is Gender F***ing with Our Fantasies?
To lift the censorship, degradation, and foreclosure of girls’ fantasies, we may have to investigate the gendered limitations on how we think about early loves, impulses, celebrity crushes, and maybe, sexually stirring gentleman pirates.
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Songs of Our Lives: Guns N’ Roses’s “Paradise City”
When people asked what I was going to do after high school, I said, “Leave town.” I wasn’t kidding. I hadn’t applied to a single college.
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Anna March’s Reading Mixtape #2: Line My Eyes and Call Me Pretty?
Every one of these gorgeously written books will explode your brain and the stories will transport you, even as they grapple with binaries, traditional roles, narrow expectations, breaking free, who we are…. and who we long to be. Sex, gender,…
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Our Words, Possessed by Fans
In the driest language possible, I would say that fan fiction successfully undermines the traditional American heteronormative dynamic in ways that can’t be undone. In wetter language, fan fiction sexualizes. It’s transgressive because it suggests the possibility of the erotic.…
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The Saturday Rumpus Essay: Crushed
He’s a cute mensch, I gathered, a cuddly fellow with a well- groomed beard, sad eyes, and, most importantly, a comforting voice that sounded like he was about to either cry or laugh.
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Cult Classic: Richard Siken’s Crush
It is a world where camp has replaced art. There is something safe and comforting in the smallness of this world; it is a world we recognize.
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The Last Poem I Loved: Richard Siken’s “Scheherazade”
Tell me, Richard, that I, too, will never get used to this.