Waypoint Transition
I want to know more of what it is like to feel lost and not always have someone there to tell me how to find my way. Or, to tell me my way.
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Posts Tagged: essay
Cure for Last Night’s Leftovers
Let’s be clear: There is no hangover cure. Anyone who claims to have never had a hangover is either a) a liar, b) a teetotaler, or c) a responsible drinker. I’m none of those things, most days, despite effort, and the number of times I’ve searched for “how to cure a hangover” in the harsh light of a weekend morning is embarrassing the older I get, so manage your expectations.
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Opioids in Sobriety
Using opioids while maintaining my sobriety became a skill that I continued to develop over the following couple of years. The irony—finally becoming capable of moderating my drug use—was not lost on me.
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You Keep Everything Outside
“So it’s a surprise to you—and not entirely a pleasant one—when you fall in love with someone who has a penis. You thought you’d set up defenses against the possibility, but here he is, and here you are, loving him.”
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Heart Work
I want them to know that heart work is hard work, but worth the struggle.
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Introducing Lamoishe and Hezbollah Schoenfeld
I nearly got disowned over my decision not to pass on the family name.
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Pig on a Stick
My Filipino father refused to be upstaged by a white man’s lechon.
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Open Letter to Our Body
The only thing I can count on to be there tomorrow is my body. And yours.
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How to Name Dead Babies
Let’s not pretend first means there’s a good place to start.
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How I Lived and Wrote in Las Vegas
Then again, I wonder if the distinct pleasure of Las Vegas lies in the simulacrum.
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How I Love Her: On Depression and Suicidal Ideation
Maybe the worst part about living with this is that it doesn’t leave me.
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Free Indirect Suicide: An Unfinished Fugue in H Minor
I want a PhD in how to want, effortlessly, to be alive.
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The Language of What Happened to Us
“We knew things were wrong then,” she says, “but we didn’t know how, or why.”
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Smoke Screen
I am an oracle who, while dispensing answers to all those who seek them, cannot predict my own future.
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If You Let Me Tell You a Story
Stories need concrete details to help you understand, don’t they?
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The Algorithm of Love
The life I had doesn’t flash like I see in movies. The life I want is what stares ahead.
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The Loss of a Whole Korea
Only peace. Wholeness will not happen for our generation.
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People You May Know
Staring at that profile picture, I couldn’t not click.
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The Rumpus Book Club Chat with Amy Fusselman
Amy Fusselman discusses her new book, IDIOPHONE!
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A Part of Me
Now my not wanting men to be front and center in my life capitalized sperm into a rare commodity. Empowered reproduction is largely a myth.
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The Abattoir
This is what my mother doesn’t want me to see: the death rattle in a forbidden room. This is what she doesn’t want me to know: how one life is sacrificed for another to live.
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Inheritance
I married a man who is related to me. I started dating him when I was seventeen and of course, my mother immediately liked him. He grew up in my parents’ hometown.
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On Birds, Cats, and Children
My devotion to the cats was not an imitation of human motherhood. To confuse the two, I thought, was an insult to both.
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Body Fluids: An Exploration of Motherhood
I think fresh semen smells like aspirin, which is made from a mold that grows on birch trees, which of course are phallic.
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Not Your Auntie
What I need is for white people to stop calling the Honorable Representative Maxine Waters “Auntie.” For real. It needs to stop.
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Hooters Chicken
I applied for a job at Hooters on a dare a few weeks before my nineteenth birthday. A shoe salesman who worked across from me at the mall told me he’d pay me twenty dollars to apply.
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Horses and Dyslexia
I often feel as if there is something just beyond my reach, as if I had another set of eyes, and if I could only open them I could see all the things I needed to see.
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The Sunday Rumpus Essay: My Souls Are Out A-Wandering
What is marriage but another form of colonization? A renaming? A power taken, a power taken away?
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