Kicking and Shrugging: Why We Resist Self-Defense by Anastasia Higginbotham


For the majority of women and girls just trying to live our lives, it comes down to this: when we are raped, it’s usually by men or boys we know who are so confident in their ability to overpower us, they don’t even think they need a weapon. As insulting and depressing as that sounds, it’s not the worst news. This is an enemy we can beat.

King Cake by Donnie Boman


I figured I could make a king cake. I figured I should make a king cake. Being from Mobile, Ala., the home of the first Mardi Gras celebration in America (not New Orleans, Mobilians are sensitive about that), I thought it’d only be right that I tried once, at least. Maybe it’d be on par with a local Louisiana bakery? The bar was high according to my father. But at the very least it’d be homemade by me and there are points for that, and I could always blame a screw-up on the recipe. I’d bring it in to work, because what did I need with a bunch of king cake at home. I’d be an authority on king cakes.

Something Was Eating My Brain, Too: On Beth Ann Fennelly’s Heating & Cooling by Andrew Bomback

Let Me Tell You What Your Book Is About by Andrew Bomback, Prose

I confessed to my older brother that my outbursts, all the yelling I was doing combined with the physicality required to control Mateo, felt like a form of emotional and physical abuse. “If a hidden camera was following me,” I said, “and you watched that footage, you’d say there was something seriously wrong with the father.” My brother, who has four children, empathized but warned against continuing this pattern. He’d done the same thing with his youngest child, and he now felt guilty seeing how often she, at age nine, erupted. Neither of us extended the conversation to its logical conclusion – had we failed our children? – but perhaps that point was already understood.

A Diagram about “Women” by Esther Neff

Multimedia, Prose

This diagram was drawn in rage and terror, working against subjection and abjection in attempts to objectify "the paradigm" so that it may be exposed and embarrassed as "a construction." How does such a diagramming process "work"? To flatten and position epistemes and influences is to perform a semblance of control, but isn't this very definition of "control" the same will-to-power that constructs binary gender and other coercive and oppressive orders for human qualities and properties in the first place?

OE Classics: Excerpted from “Trout Fishing in America” by Richard Brautigan

Poetry, Prose

Then the two artists talked about committing themselves to an insane asylum for the winter. They talked about how warm it would be in the insane asylum, with television, clean sheets on soft beds, hamburger gravy over mashed potatoes, a dance once a week with the lady kooks, clean clothes, a locked razor and lovely young student nurses. Ah, yes, there was a future in the insane asylum. No winter spent there could be a total loss.

David Bowie, Art Collector by Duncan Wheeler


Hardly the most naturally gifted musician or performer of his generation, he is one of the very few one can imagine triumphing as anything other than as a rock star. Musical compositions were as much a means as an end, and it is impossible to gauge his legacy without taking into account the interdisciplinary multi-media nature of the finest creation of the lad born as David Jones in Brixton: global super-star David Bowie. In line with a raison d’être pursued throughout his life and career, his art collection accrued significant economic and symbolic capital, whilst allowing him to adopt an almost avuncular role.

Just Go! by Amy Shearn


Though I fetishize anachronisms like typewriters and newspapers, I’m only pretending not to be as technology-addicted as everyone else. In practice going through a day phoneless feels like I’m trying to do everything while wearing mittens. I have to stop and ask a stranger for directions, like no one has done in America since 2008. When I see the beautiful view of the city from the Morningside Park cliff, I can’t Instagram it. I feel momentarily bereft. But it is beautiful! What did I used to do with beautiful things before I had a smartphone? Oh yeah. I wrote them down.

Out of Kitzbühel by Kevin O Cuinn


Orla’s Ethics professor starved himself to death; her brother cycled off a cliff. The cantor climbed the church’s steeple and stepped into the air. All in the wake of Orla’s death.

Two Poems by Ayşe Tekşen


There are cuts on paper,/ Scissors on cuts,/Paper on scissors,/Hands on scissors,/ Scissors on paper,/ Paper on hands,/ And our hands on paper./ Ours is a war on paper,/Rather than on scissors.

Jerry Saltz Responding To: “15 Questions About Kara Walker’s Latest Exhibition” by Seph Rodney


Who is educated by Mozart at the Emperor’s Opera house? Or by Velazquez’ Las Meninas – which only hung in the royal palace until very recently yet somehow affected all of subsequent art-history. We are “enlarged” and “educated” by art in a language beyond words and by osmosis and incrementally. Often we don’t even know how or that we’ve been “enlarged” and “educated” till years later.

On Not-For-Profit Gala Fundraising by Charity Auctioneer CK Swett


My calendar informs me that that November gala 13th will be my 87th of 2017, and probably in the neighborhood of the 400th of my seven-year career. In that time I’ve visited schools in rural Guatemala and a community center in Soweto, South Africa. I’ve shared lunch with women in domestic violence shelters and served lunch to the homeless in food kitchens. I’ve donned a blue jump suit and emptied trash cans on the Upper East Side with formerly incarcerated men of color working to put their lives back together.

The Legacy of Herman Wallace: Solitary Confinement and the Self by Serena Maszak

Multimedia, Prose

The body is the seat of the mind, where the mind happens, but it does not set the boundaries of the mind. If the body is a cage, Wallace’s creation is proof that the mind can make itself smaller than the gaps between bars. Wallace’s confinement was undoubtedly torturous, surreal, and painful, and he expresses this in his letters to Sumell. In the virtual tour of his house, he gives explanations for certain features, such as the master bedroom’s jacuzzi bathtub, six square feet larger than his cell. In the words of Sumell, “[The House That Wallace Built] illustrates not only what is wrong, but also what is possible.”

The Plateau: On Marina Benjamin’s “The Middlepause”

Let Me Tell You What Your Book Is About by Andrew Bomback, Prose

I wonder if Marina Benjamin considered another title for her excellent book, The Middlepause. Specifically, I wonder if she thought about using “Mental Menopause,” a catchy moniker used by one of her friends as they discuss their mutual exploration of middle age and beyond. “It’s more a mental menopause I’ve been struggling with,” this friend shares, “with every significant choice I’ve ever made suddenly up for review – education, career choice, where to live, children; even your key relationship, which is so established, it requires work.”

28 TV and Movie Characters Who Should Be My Boyfriend by Eli Rarey

Prose, YOU GET WHAT YOU ASK FOR: A Magazines/Media Expert Telling It Like It Is by Eli Rarey

MAX from MAD MAX: FURY ROAD: I know that it is hard to be in a relationship with someone who has such severe PTSD. I’m not even sure he’s capable of opening up emotionally to another person after what he’s been through. But if he’s willing to try, then I will bring all my reserves of patience. This is someone with a genuinely good heart.

Dusted Omnipotent Nina by Sharon Anderson


After that one time, I knew she couldn’t endure chemo. She was so small and her hair fell out, her mottled charcoal/pink skin turned solid black from the drugs, leaving just her tiny black Chinese Crested face, like a little spider monkey. When a little boy on the street looked terrified and tugged on his mom’s pants to point at Nina, that’s what I said: “She’s a monkey”, and smiled. And thought, you-- you-- little boy, will be old and look like shit one day and by then your mother will be dead, so fuck you.

Ohio Interviews: Artist Johanna Jackson

Ohio Interviews, Prose

So many of us have been to art school and graduate school now and there's a lot of investment in a parochial way of looking at art. I think it's good to try to keep that out of the studio. Artmaking is not a good place to be dancing for judges. No one really knows anything about art! Rather than a conversation or a game, I like to think of art as a totally random collection of heavily cathectic matter-poems thrown up by regenerating but definitely dying spiritual-biological animals on a planet in space.

Self-Reliance by Ralph Waldo Emerson

OE Classics, Prose

In every work of genius we recognize our own rejected thoughts: they come back to us with a certain alienated majesty. Great works of art have no more affecting lesson for us than this. They teach us to abide by our spontaneous impression with good-humored inflexibility then most when the whole cry of voices is on the other side.

BRUSSELSGIUM: A Croissant a Day Keeps the Joy in Play by Gilmore Tamny


One very amusing Oasis documentary, and a short stop in Amsterdam later, voila, I landed in Brussels, finding it a puzzling Southern California-esque 85 and sunny. I napped for four hours as everyone advises you not to, then rose a la Lazarus to wander around in aimless circles. Getting lost was OK, then awesome, then scary, then fine, then fun, then alarming, then I stopped caring. Time didn’t stand still so much as flopped around in a haze of cafes, cathedrals, splendidness, garbage, beggars, tourists (U.S., China, India, U.K. most represented), squares, cobblestones, statues of that peeing kid, ornate windows, waffles, and chocolate shops. Euros are pretty. So nice to hear French. Dutch is hilarious. The youths are as tattooed and bearded as they are yonder U.S.

Fragments by Joshua Wolf Shenk


Art museums should have beds that lovers can climb into and nuzzle. Art museums should have choices of spectacles with colored lenses, red, purple, kaleidoscopic. Once an hour or so, or it could be once a day or week, art museums should play, loudly, a piece of music that people can dance to. Art museums with tall ceilings should offer bungee jumps to their patrons. This may be a perk of membership. Museums should have pits of foam so that we can look at a work of art and then fall backward safely and softly. Trampolines?

Munching Apples: On Paul Kalanithi’s “When Breath Becomes Air” by Andrew Bomback

Let Me Tell You What Your Book Is About by Andrew Bomback, Prose

These honest recollections, confessions of how the mind and the body will grasp at anything to survive the residency years, how Kalanithi found his “munching apples” moments in the trauma bay with some harmless jokes and a soggy ice cream sandwich, are why I consider When Breath Becomes Air essential reading for any doctor-in-training, why I push the book on so many medical students, residents, and fellows.

The Charts and Scores of Annie-B Parson

Multimedia, Ohio Interviews, Prose

When I finish a chart,  I feel a great sense of closure that dance never gives. Because in dance there are so many mitigating factors for anyone to see your work and for the work to be seen as it was intended to be performed: a dancer can be injured, a dancer can turn away from your work, a new production is usually out of reach, things can go wrong on any given night and make the piece not the piece, the house can be empty, the house can be full, the tickets are priced out of reach of your audience, etc.

Dear Daughter: A Cheat Sheet by Molly MacDermot


I told Chimamanda that I’d love for her to sign her book, "We Should All Be Feminists," for you. I offered her a Sharpie and she quickly and decisively wrote: “Summer keep writing. Keep doing,” and added a smiley face. I told her Summer was only six and I would wait before giving her the book. She looked me straight in the eyes, not unlike Gloria, and said: “She can get it now.”

Rock On by Donnie Boman


One is often told that he/she should not think and act in binary terms - there is always room for gray. However, just as something can be on or off, one must be told to either "rock on" or "fuck off." (Certainly, I feel that people must often be told this! They can't read my mind. These switches will help facilitate this in a less combative manner.)

Ask a Mom Who Is Not Your Mom by Amy Fusselman

Ask a Mom Who's Not Your Mom, Prose

Dear Mom Who’s Not My Mom, I’m bisexual, but my Mom Who *Is* My Mom doesn’t know. She’s a very conservative Christian and I don’t want to upset her, but I don’t like keeping things from my family, despite their disapproving nature. Is it important for our relationship, do you think, that I tell her? It would not be welcome news to her ears. Sincerely, Child Who’s Not Your Child

From “I Remember Nightfall” by Marosa di Giorgio, translated by Jeannine Marie Pitas


If I hear dogs barking in the night, my heart breaks; if I hear their distant clamor, my heart stops hastily. And I go back to look at the ancient orchard, the garden of those years, the smell of peas, cows, horses grazing in the moonlight. Then, the men meet in the olive grove; they speak of the coming harvest, of the ghosts that at that time are appearing like birds, the specters with wings made of sheets, and they steal all the fruit.

Pitol’s Blurred Lines: A Review of “The Magician of Vienna” by Felix Haas

Prose, Reviews

his is one of the many enchantments of his book: You never quite know what the author is going to give you next. Sure, there are plenty of authors which offer you the unexpected, but rarely do you come across a piece of literature which moves so freely in and out of genres, be it criticism and literary history or autobiography and diary entries.

The Bias Cut: Masking for It by Hobo Scumbag

Prose, The Bias Cut by Hobo Scumbag

Some people say air is important, but in fact it's how you breathe that indicates whether you should be allowed to continue breathing or not. Master yogis know it, zen life coaches also somewhat know it. Your relationship with air is important insofar that you're inhaling it well and, in fact, ideally better than everyone else around you, whether you are in the northernmost parts of the Canadian countryside or in downtown Beijing on a hot day.

I Remember Glenn O’Brien by Duncan Hannah


Once in a while, I would get a stray phone call from such unlikely places as Calvin Klein or Richard Avedon’s studio, asking me to come see their boss for some kind of go-see. I would invariably ask, “Does this have anything to do with Glenn O’Brien?” It always did. He was generous and inclusive in that way.

Excerpt from “Boomtown” an essay by Erik Anderson


What can be said about a room like this—and there are thousands of them here—except that it is designed for one or more persons to live essentially as one would in a house, albeit in a room of roughly two hundred square feet, a room meant (unlike most hotel rooms) to imitate all the functions of home, a room so anonymous, so clearly in poor or missing taste, as to be any room, every room, and no room all at once.

An Interview about Video Game Puppetry with Eddie Kim of EK Theater

Ohio Interviews, Prose

We didn’t always refer to our work as “video game puppetry.” We used to call it “live machinima theater.” Our work has much in common with traditional puppetry. Video game characters, like puppets, have limited actions, and performers speak lines for both. The ultimate goal is the same too–to convey the story to the audience