high school
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A Sandy In Rizzo’s Clothing
At The Toast, Mara Wilson discusses her relationship with Grease, Sandy, and Rizzo as a kid who wanted to believe the movie was an accurate portrayal of being a teenager: Months before I saw Grease, I had cut my hair…
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Five Stages of Prince Fandom
You don’t need to know him personally, you say. You get the best of Prince through his music. Maybe that’s the truth, and maybe it isn’t.
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Eating in Purgatory
I always say the last time was the last time, and I always mean it, but I’m scared I’ll relapse again.
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Who Will Claim Us?
I was thinking of my closet at home, guilt twisting my insides as I considered all the things I’d taken without knowing what it was I really wanted.
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Behind Trees: Hiding and Finding Yourself in The Sims
As I became increasingly jealous of the boys, I got angrier. This was complex because I spent the days worshipping them.
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The Rumpus Interview with Manuel Gonzales
Manuel Gonzales talks about his new novel, The Regional Office is Under Attack!, transitioning from nonprofit work to teaching, and how to zig when a trope wants you to zag.
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Michael Derrick Hudson, Before You Steal My Chinese Name
Know that you are trying to steal from a naming ritual and culture that goes back five thousand years.
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The Conversation: Joshua Bennett and Camonghne Felix
What scares me in the current work is how much I trust the concept, what I’m trying to achieve.
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The Slow Fall of the Hot Heroine
If nothing else, it’s the opinion of other women that encroaches on mine. Resemblances spark my joy; differences become character flaws.
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The Others
While Lani’s sole purpose in the book seemed to be a genderqueer Jiminy Cricket, pulling the wool back from Claire’s incredibly naïve eyes, they allowed me to look past the narrative I’d been told since birth. Over at Lit Hub,…
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The Sunday Rumpus Essay: An Ocean of Hatted Absurdity
I wonder if in absence I will now come to conflate him with the character I’ve drawn. Or with the character I’m drawing now.
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David Biespiel’s Poetry Wire: Be Wise, Drink the Wine
Be it Latin or poetry, or whatever it was—I was feeling woozy by then. If I couldn’t love what I was reading, I took it, it was better to have never read at all.