I promised my friend T I would write this, but not in the way I actually ended up writing it. For that I am sorry. For the rest, oh yeah I'm absolutely sorry. This is the most ridiculous thing but maybe I can't write serious things anymore. They are in the particular order of not… Continue reading Twelve Ways to Serial Killer a Visola
Author: Visola
Once an infamous cat herder, Visola recently discovered she was allergic to cats and has been shut away ever since. Before this incident, she was published in such places as Sympathetic Ink and Queer Conventions. Follow her blog to see what happens as she re-emerges.
BASS 1998; Harlem, 2005
This summer, all summer, shootings have been on the rise. I am working on vignettes about the present. But also, I think about Bob Owens all the time. Our last hug as I left the city in 2009, presumably forever. How I pulled back after squeezing tight to ask, "What the hell is wrong? You're… Continue reading BASS 1998; Harlem, 2005
Self-destruction is so played out/So is self-pity and self-doubt
So, I impromptu read at an open mic on Sunday. It was the late-oughts last time someone got me on a mic where I wasn't rabble-rousing or just stalling for time. I thought about my Kung Fu test when a board member asked me to do a form as though it was a poem where… Continue reading Self-destruction is so played out/So is self-pity and self-doubt
Sly updates without social media notifications
Here's a flash piece written for a contest I did not win. I incorporated two pieces of feedback in this update. What you need to know about those pieces of feedback: I still can't keep track of time. It's nothing new, but maybe it's new that I understand how it connects my writing and my… Continue reading Sly updates without social media notifications
Meditations without Focus
I call a friend to let them know I’ve read too much news. One hour is fine, but anything more is dangerous. We jokingly say, “Call a friend.” I remember it being connected to a gameshow, but I have no idea why it’s still funny. Whenever worry strikes, I think of who I know is… Continue reading Meditations without Focus
