There’s something special about following a band for over a decade—especially if you started listening to that band in your youth—as the discography of the band starts to layer itself…
Every summer, our placid village by the Bay of Biscay was invaded by what dad called the Oxford tribe: dons donning white socks under sandals; fresh-faced dissertators in linen shirts;…
Summer was nascent, and I longed for it nonetheless. I had vowed to myself — it was going to be the best season of my life. I was freshly seventeen…
“Fast Car” by Tracy Chapman is the best song on the radio, it is frequently on the radio, and it is the only song on the radio about poverty. Correction:…
Push your cheek against the porch window. Ha! How fitting the ruckus should come from the neighbors! you snicker. Then, remember how whenever you’d complain about the young couple next…
I read about a hundred words each minute. It rings impressive, but it’s less than twenty pages an hour in a typical book. I stumbled through a history of the…
The brown townhouse is smaller than I remember. It sits back further from the road than the other townhouses attached to it, flinching into the shadows. Emerald shrubs under the…
The little girl who tromps down to the creek, after the season’s first rain, spring rain that comes after the crocuses, after the thaw, she wears black rubber boots trimmed…
Living alone, a severe stroke victim, I had a lot of time on my hands. I was no longer able to exercise or engage in vigorous physical activity, since my…
This is part of a recurring column about modern romance, dating, and more. I never intended to be a prostitute. Or a hooker. Or a sex worker. That certainly wasn’t what…
This is the first in a recurring column about modern romance, dating, and more. I started talking to my first couple on a summer afternoon. I found them through the sex-positive…
It was the 80’s. Seattle. Four books on feminism stack themselves perilously next to my twin bed, in a teeny apartment, on a narrow rickety dark wood table I stole…
WOVEN is an Entropy series and dedicated safe space for essays by persons who engage with #MeToo, sexual assault and harassment, and #DomesticViolence, as well as their intersections with mental…
The intimacy of the tiny cockpit of the single engine Piper Comanche was romantic and intimidating. The empty sky outside the window was only an inch from my shoulder. At…