POLLYANNA-ISH I: JUST BREATHING ISN’T LIVING
Pollyanna-ish is a column about the process of becoming (undefinable). Exploring the intersection between life and art, these essays will explore and intermingle different aspects…
Read Morememoir
Big Red
CW: animal slaughter It is a gruesome alchemy that turns a life into a meal, and I have performed it; I have killed. Big…
Read More
We Were Like Sisters
We were like sisters, you and I. And this, while we already had sisters. Lots of them; too many between us. A girl can’t…
Read More
Dreams That My Diary Unfortunately Remembers
Michael Jackson had died as a young child while being minded by an elderly alcoholic. She left the crime scene intact inside her house…
Read More
DON’T @ ME (AN INTERIOR MONOLOGUE): FEBRUARY
Have you ever wondered what it’s like to be a cis, demisexual woman navigating the world in a nontraditional body? In this ongoing column,…
Read More
The Real Girl
I was the tiny child taken straight to hospital in Dublin. I was the tiny child with drugs, concentrated rays, no hair, enduring the…
Read More
Being-toward-death
I cannot comprehend non-existence. This has turned into an anxiety, a dread, which has kept me up every night since I was seven or…
Read More
Name your hunger like you name the wind
I am living in Trieste, a city 150 kilometres east of Venice, where I look after two small boys: Frederico, (he is ten), and…
Read More
Out of Here
2000-01 Port Macquarie in the summer is the thing of postcards. Great pines rise on the bluffs, beaches gleaming yellow-blue below. Everything is green…
Read More