death
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Translating the Elderly: Amour, The Intern, and Our Many Selves
The elderly become reminders not of our imminent mortality, but of our ever-evolving humanity, our enduring lust—and need—for connection and purpose.
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Missing
I long to learn from my darkest teachers, feel the stab of their spectacular rejection. Perhaps I feel most alive when I’m hurting.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: On Documentation
What is it like to be you? he was always asking, in his way, and it seemed a stupid question then. I didn’t know. I could lie better than I could tell the truth. I hadn’t left yet.
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The Sunday Rumpus Essay: Through the Vitrine
It has been fifteen years, but I can still remember every moment of that year. It is cased in a vitrine, and the things I see through the wavy plexiglass are indistinct and as odd as that car going the…
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This Is Not a Story About a Ghost
This is a story about memory. About neurons misfiring, about the strange space between dream and awake, that feeling, when I’m falling asleep, of falling backwards, swinging my arms up to catch myself.
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Frederick Tuten Remembers Jenny Diski
Writer Frederick Tuten recalls the first fan letter he ever wrote to novelist Jenny Diski. What followed was a friendship which lasted until her death last month from cancer. Back in 1999, Tuten interviewed Diski for BOMB Magazine: Do you know what…
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The Cool Future
“All plots tend to move deathward,” the narrator of “White Noise” says. “This is the nature of plots. Political plots, terrorist plots, lovers’ plots, narrative plots, plots that are part of children’s games. We edge nearer death every time we…
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Total Noise and Complete Saturation
For as long as I can remember I’ve been interested, in a clinical way, in silence.
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R.I.P.: Fantastic Casket
As far as the market right now, this is the moment to own it on caskets because we have the baby boomer generation coming up, and they’re doubling the number of deaths that are happening.


