Size 7

I’m currently working on some longer writing projects for the summer and have hit something of a block when it comes to writing new and timely pieces for DUFL. Here’s a story I wrote four years ago. I was “trying something.” I don’t know if it “worked.”

***

Size 7

Briarwood Mall, Thursday afternoon in springtime. Not too busy, mostly high school girls shopping with their daddies’ credit cards and photogenic moms nibbling cinnamon rolls by the fountain, strollers in tow. A blinking cursor on a blank Word document awaits me back on campus, but Steve says he needs new shoes.
Read the rest of this entry »

Advertisements

Firsthand Research

May is coming to a close, and there were several things I wanted to post this month for Asian Pacific American Heritage Month; I may have to cheat into June to do so. The following is a story I wrote several weeks ago that I’ve been tinkering with since. Any feedback is appreciated.

***

It may just be regression to the mean, but so far it’s been a good day. And, as my friend Pete, an unlikely aficionado of the West Coast hip hop absent from my own childhood, would say, I didn’t even have to use my AK.
Read the rest of this entry »


On Influence: Starting and Stopping Cracks

Since it is shameless plug week at DUFL press, I thought I’d shamelessly plug an essay by my good friend, Greg Gerke,  on the Kenyon Review’s website. It’s a luminous, thoughtful essay about influences in art and what it means to create. Plus, Mr. Gerke discusses Rilke, William Gass, Wallace Stevens and Elizabeth Bishop, and God knows I love them all dearly. There are numerous passages I adore in the essay, but since I don’t want to ruin it for you, here are three: Read the rest of this entry »


Andy

We’re inside now, and I am drunk, drunker than I can remember being. 12 drinks will do that. But I don’t feel drunk, I feel euphoric, and the dark bar is glowing and spinning like some broke-down merry-go around.

The music is blasting, and the people are dancing, the group of guys in the corner are yelling at the top of their lungs to Madonna, and the beautiful bartender with tattoos covering her body like spreading, wayward ivy is shuffling her feet behind the bar, and I pretend she’s looking me and desiring me with her eyes, but of course she’s not, she doesn’t even notice me.
Read the rest of this entry »


Saturday Morning Mass

After a brief burst of creativity in early February, I’ve found myself facing something of a writer’s block. As such, I’ve been digging through buried folders, unearthing and blowing the dust off of old pieces of writing, which is fun and also a little terrifying. I’m fond of the quote “Art is never finished, only abandoned,” attributed to both da Vinci and E. M. Forster, according to Google. The following is a story I started back in May 2007. Like all my stories, it was unfinished and abandoned.
Read the rest of this entry »