An idiosyncratic literary project with something new every day.


Confessions of Former Anne Geddes’ Models

by Matt Ingebretson

October 6, 2015 —
Anne Geddes is an infant photographer who has been photographing babies since 1981. Many of those children are now fully grown and speaking out about their experiences. *** I was the baby that had cabbage on its head. I say, “was” and “it” because my therapist has suggested I disassociate with my former self, and says that I didn’t do anything wrong and should feel no sense of guilt surrounding the photos that Ms. Geddes took of me. Obviously there is nothing technically “wrong” with those photos, but nevertheless they don’t feel quite right either. -Lisa, 31 ... [Read More]


Suburban Cuisine, or: What to Eat When You’re Through Being Cool

by Phyllis Dunham

October 6, 2015 — heart, humor
  “You take a bag and a half or so of frozen corn kernels. Or you could even use canned, but make sure it’s a good brand like Del Monte. Drained of course. Dump it in a good-sized sauce pan. Scoop in at least a whole regular-sized tub of sour cream and a cut-up block of Philadelphia Cream Cheese. Then dump in a coupla those little cans of chopped green chiles, some chunks of butter, maybe half a stick, and salt and pepper to taste. Stir it all up over low heat till it makes a creamy sauce, and then put it in a nice dish to serve. Couldn’t be easier.” ... [Read More]


Men I Blew It With

by Cynthia Lewis

September 14, 2015 — heart
To hear one of the many men who blew it with me tell it, I have a “bad picker.” In the case of my falling for him, nothing could be closer to the truth. Andy’s story, epitomizing as it does the weirdness that adheres to me even when I’m not the principal bungler, is a fit prelude to the tales of two relationships I botched completely on my own.   Andy was my boyfriend during our senior year in high school. He oozed the charm to which, I readily admit, I’m fatally attracted. He was also devoted to me. A talented artist, he drew me a new love letter every day in the form of a cartoon with a sweet little message about how much I meant to him. In wood shop, he crafted and stained a beautiful wooden box, then painted exotic trees and runes on it like the ones that, in those days, bedecked the paperback covers of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. Inside the box was a note, scrawled in his distinctive block print, folded around a seed. The printed message, from The Hobbit, read in part, “If ever fruit ripens, it should be planted, lest the line die out of the world.”   Once I got to college and, in my sophomore year, declared myself a writer, I had little use for Andy’s quaint notes, his childish print, or his charm, which had come to seem a lot like immaturity. He flunked out of an expensive private university. I went in another direction. Over the following years, he’d resurface every now and then. A visit he paid me during my graduate school days in Boston included one night of spectacular sex, although I remember scolding him for not even asking me whether I was using birth control. Several years later, he and his wife, who were living in California, stopped by my mother’s in Ohio, where we’d grown up. The reason for the visit, according to my mother, was that Andy had talked so much about me as to pique his wife’s curiosity, though why her interest resulted in meeting my mom rather than me was never clear. I saw Andy again, years later, when I was teaching in my current position, married, and almost due to give birth. He surprised me by stopping in unannounced. As he rounded a corner in my... [Read More]



by Janelle Sheetz

August 31, 2015 — heart
"Do you want to drive by Grandma and Pap Pap's house?" my mom asks.   "Yeah," I say. "I'd like to see it." ... [Read More]


This Rigged Race

by Patricia Wentzel

August 31, 2015 — heart
I celebrated my twentieth wedding anniversary wearing slippers, an old T-shirt and elastic waist shorts. I was “inside" – inpatient at a local psychiatric facility – on an involuntary admission due to severe suicidal ideation and psychosis. I have Bipolar I Disorder and was in a full-blown, ... [Read More]


Hippy Twist

by Michele Hanson

July 27, 2015 — heart
I’ve recently been introduced to acroyoga, which, as you might infer, combines acrobatics with yoga. No trapeze or safety net is required; though, to fly you have only to ask a partner to lie on her back, place her feet at your pelvic bones, hold your hands, and push you up. If you can plank, staying parallel to the ground—and she can maintain stability, keeping her torso and legs at a right angle—then you’re in Bird. Maybe you tried this as a kid; my sister and I did, flying for only a fraction of a second at a time. With some instruction and repeated practice, however, you should get liftoff. ... [Read More]