The Saturday Rumpus Essay: Jefferson St. Apartments
Our perspectives bend and embellish, the run-down domicile is one year shitty and shameful, the next a sacred heaven.
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relationships
284 posts
Learning to Live Alone through the Legacy of Mary Tyler Moore
Characters like Mary and Rhoda hadn't been turned into stereotypes of single women in their thirties or career women or divorcees. They couldn't be: they were the first.
Rumpus Original Fiction: Maybe There’s This Dragon?
Maybe I’ve been here too long. Maybe I’ve finally accepted that the apartment is somehow aspirational. Maybe there’s this dragon.
The Saturday Rumpus Essay: An Audience with the Husband
To ask for a truly great love is to ask for death at the same time.
A Place with Teeth
It will be fine, I had told them. It will be an adventure. I was in love. Love is an eternal optimist.
The Rumpus Interview With Danielle Trussoni
Danielle Trussoni discusses her new memoir, The Fortress, black magic, the cult of marriage, and the dark side of storytelling.
On Queer Love in the Anthropocene
Four syllables, ever so lightly punctuated by the softest consonants, announcing a tragic, apocalyptic shift in global time.
The Sunday Rumpus Interview: Angela Palm
Putting experience into words gives them less power over me, I think.
Albums of Our Lives: Frightened Rabbit’s The Midnight Organ Fight
Something about the twangy banjo and the melancholy vocals just made me feel less alone. And I hated being alone.
Album of the Week: Cherry Glazerr’s Apocalipstick
Clementine Creevy is a nineteen-year-old girl from Los Angeles with a vision: having a career in music in a society that “would deem that a prodigious girl can’t be in…
The Saturday Rumpus Essay: Everything We Ever Needed
I tried to forget again that I once meant to leave, that on a few occasions I had actually felt transported by love.
VISIBLE: Women Writers of Color: Tara Betts
Tara Betts discusses her newest collection, Break the Habit, the burden placed on black women artists to be both artist and activist, and why writing is rooted in identity.