I stopped writing when I was maybe fifteen, paralyzed by the self-doubt of puberty and the disgust I felt at my first attempts at poetry, humiliatingly melodramatic and trite. Until recently, I’d forgotten that writing–other than journaling–was something I used to do, had started doing when I wrote my first “book” in first grade. These [...]
I’ve been waiting to read this book since the call for submissions was posted in fall 2010, and it did not disappoint. It made me me think, it made me laugh, it made me fistpump and say “oh yeah” out loud, it made me cry, and, [...]
When your particular brand of certifiable insanity causes you repeatedly to hurt the people you love, the self-loathing can get so deep you can’t even dream of digging yourself out. In recent months, I’ve felt evil, and I’ve felt hopeless, and I’ve felt very genuinely like everything would be better if I could just muster [...]
I went to McGill’s McLennan Library last week for the second time since graduating over a year ago, intending to check out S. Bear Bergman’s Butch is a Noun and maybe something on femme-ness, since I seem to be back-and-forthing on whether “femme” is a label I endorse or reject for myself, and obviously for [...]
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