I spent Sunday evening in Iowa City with Blake Butler, Amelia Gray, Mary Hamilton, Jac Jemc, Aaron Burch, and Lindsay Hunter. They were all ridiculously awesome (two of them had published my stories and one of them—okay, Lindsay Hunter—bossed me around like she was my mom). They gave me a pile of books (AM/PM by Amelia Gray, Scorch Atlas by Blake Butler, We Know What We Are by Mary Hamilton, and Daddy’s by Lindsay Hunter) in return for agreeing to drive them 30 miles to the Riverside Casino. (That never happened, btw.)  Lindsay Hunter’s Daddy’s just came out this week. This paragraph is from her story FOOD LUCK:  Remember how Mom would eat a dozen eggs and a pan of bacon, and remember how that one Christmas she went to stretch and found an old brown napkin wedged in her neckfat, how then we wanted to know what else was hiding in there, a diary, a housekey, a slice of pizza, and hey remember when we joked that Dad was in there somewhere, because that was how we dealt with Dad leaving us and moving in with the man who ran the movie theater. We made jokes about it. Like how remember that one time I made you laugh when we drove by Dad cutting the man’s grass and I yelled Hey faggot out the window as we passed. At least I think you laughed. Didn’t you? Or like that time we tried to see how many different things we could fit into our mouths, marshmallows, grapes, hunks of sandwich bread, and I said, Hey this must be what Dad feels like when he’s got that movie theater man’s testicles in his mouth.  Read the rest in Daddy’s. Buy it HERE. 

I spent Sunday evening in Iowa City with Blake Butler, Amelia Gray, Mary Hamilton, Jac Jemc, Aaron Burch, and Lindsay Hunter. They were all ridiculously awesome (two of them had published my stories and one of them—okay, Lindsay Hunter—bossed me around like she was my mom). They gave me a pile of books (AM/PM by Amelia Gray, Scorch Atlas by Blake Butler, We Know What We Are by Mary Hamilton, and Daddy’s by Lindsay Hunter) in return for agreeing to drive them 30 miles to the Riverside Casino. (That never happened, btw.) 

Lindsay Hunter’s Daddy’s just came out this week. This paragraph is from her story FOOD LUCK: 

Remember how Mom would eat a dozen eggs and a pan of bacon, and remember how that one Christmas she went to stretch and found an old brown napkin wedged in her neckfat, how then we wanted to know what else was hiding in there, a diary, a housekey, a slice of pizza, and hey remember when we joked that Dad was in there somewhere, because that was how we dealt with Dad leaving us and moving in with the man who ran the movie theater. We made jokes about it. Like how remember that one time I made you laugh when we drove by Dad cutting the man’s grass and I yelled Hey faggot out the window as we passed. At least I think you laughed. Didn’t you? Or like that time we tried to see how many different things we could fit into our mouths, marshmallows, grapes, hunks of sandwich bread, and I said, Hey this must be what Dad feels like when he’s got that movie theater man’s testicles in his mouth. 

Read the rest in Daddy’s. Buy it HERE. 

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