VISIONS: Excerpt from ‘Pesquero’ by Jinnwoo
He had to sleep in my single bed. Compressed between me and the radiator of my teenage bedroom. Burning his back all night.
He had to sleep in my single bed. Compressed between me and the radiator of my teenage bedroom. Burning his back all night.
My friend from Waffle House says if you stacked all the sausage patties they serve in one day, it would reach the top of the Empire State Building. I say, why bother?
The world’s all burning. You might as well buy yourself a pretty little (not so little) mansion. You can too: make love in the microplastics.
The teacher hated the children. Ashley with her electric fence and Michelle with her little doll and Daniel with his frog.
MOMS FOR LIBERACE !! WOODY WOODPECKER !! YOU’LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE, PIGS !!
But today there was a cabin. A small, rough thing. Caked in leaves. Inside, they found old cans and an old bed and an old table. Inside, they found a calendar stuck on July 1992.
I found a wallet today that contained $200, some credit cards, and some family pictures—my family now.
To refer back to Jeanette’s advice again for a second, it’s not just that no one will care if you don’t do it. In a lot of cases, it’s that no one will even know if you don’t do it. For me, ‘doing the thing’ has changed my life.
In your mind, is there nothing better than coming home after a punishing day in the asteroid mines, firing up a space joint, and taking a blissful sound bath in the pure vibes pouring forth from your carefully curated LP collection?
For decades The Stuyvesant Bee has been a password known only to the LITERARY ELITE, whispered at CIA-sponsored cocktail parties, discussed in zoom meetings hosted by Paris Review interns, loudly recited at salons & saloons around the reading world.