A magazine for nonfiction performance.
Men, as a rule, do not suffer well. We cannot cope with the sadness that threatens always to overtake us. We are always afraid, and cannot put a name to being so. We are chronically confused, but are incapable or unwilling to acknowledge this reality. Mostly, I think, we do not like the admission that we are sad, and confused, and afraid. That’s what all the fuckin’ and fightin’ is about. And how sports have come to consume us. We […]
Things I’ve been doing differently these days: Fewer adverbs. More suspense. More nose hair monitoring. Less sleep. Not drinking enough water. Way more open discourse with animals on the street than their owners would prefer. And while I’m not exactly proud of this, I’ve been getting my hair cut at a place called SportClips. Sport. Clips. A place for people that love sports so much they’re here to cut their hair off just to prove it. Sport. Clips. Two words […]
I had fallen out of love with my roomy one-bedroom Ravenswood apartment. Though nestled on a quiet street, the surrounding area was a wasteland whose epicenter of culture was a 24-hour Dunkin Donuts. Also, my kitchen had become a haven for fruit flies. There were literally hundreds, perhaps thousands, of them. Despite my attempts to commit genocide, they managed to reproduce and avenge their dead by flying into my nostrils. Tired of subsisting off of donut holes and flies, I […]
Author’s Note: The following piece was crafted specifically for performance and I’ve done my best through text and punctuation to make it read as choppy and frenetic on the page as it was in person. At certain points, denoted by bold text, I took a seat in the front row and screamed at an empty stage. The parts in italics indicate a number of affectations not worth explaining. Hey, Basilo! Everyone’s looking at your double chin and stupid outfit. You […]
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