Tornados, the subversion of time, “Dear Seagoat” and a Bay Area writing class…

Whoa. So much is happening.

1) First, I have a new story, “Invention of History,” up at a fantastic new magazine you should all be reading, Midnight Breakfast. Plus, gorgeous artwork by Lindsay Lesh! Here’s a snippet of the story:

We didn’t remember who built the prison, who commissioned blueprints, who mortared bricks. “Them,” we said. In the council’s record, it was titled only “That lamentable place.” The oldest among us, charged with memory, said They’d forced us. There’d been an order perhaps, a threat, someone shot in the streets? Already we began to forget these simple things. In the time before — though even that was becoming suspect — we didn’t require the past to be fixed, and so were in the habit of inventing from present needs. Bearded men licking wide pink lips gave us History. While cooking or scavenging at the edges of our place, we sang it, teaching ourselves to remember in this new way. Whoever had built the prison, we were grateful. It gave us a reason to avoid mistakes, and anyway, someone had to go. In History, we remembered the story of Isaac and the punishment of the Gomorrhites, and how in particular epochs, G-d required a sacrifice of blood.

2) A second new story, “Live Feed,” came out today at Slush Pile, a tiny magazine with impeccable standards (check out the other stories! they’re soooo good and so beautifully written). About a queer kid who experiences a series of strange disasters triggered by a tornado, here’s an excerpt:

I MIGHT AS WELL BEGIN with the tornado, even though it’ll lead to all sorts of questions. You’ll want to know how it felt to hang in the taffy-like stretch of time as sure of death as the dead; about how little Kyle entered a bundle of hyperactive incoherence and emerged tightfisted, pinched with crazy poetry; about Jamie, who no one ever helped, ending up at Yale; or how our tragic mother fell down and couldn’t get up; about photographs of guestless twelfth birthday parties, divorced parents’ weddings and unalike sisters goggling for the camera—that Good Samaritans swept into Food-For-Less bags, along with holey underpants and canisters of Mr. Clean. But remember: the best stories, the truest stories, are the ones that hide underneath, that belong to questions you’d never think of asking.

3) There are a handful of spaces left in this 4-week class I’m teaching in San Francisco. It’s going to be soooo fun. We’ll be poking around at camp and kitchen appliances and Youtube videos, using humor to open pockets of depth in the seemingly shallow. $175 if you sign up today. After that, $210. For more information or to sign up, go here.

Empty Vessels Flyer

4) Last, but not least, I have a new astrology advice column, “Dear Seagoat”. It’s fun and deep! Read it, send me a question, then get a personal reading (the only thing better than the advice column, obs).

5) You read this far and for that, you’re awesome.

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