by Larissa Pham

My Wet Hot Drone Summer – Lex Brown

Using the cloak of the erotic novel, which historically has been seen as light entertainment and even farce, Brown’s discussion of body politics, privacy, and surveillance feels remarkably subversive — even as it remains in-your-face, as pornographic text tends to do.

A Brief History of Name Fuckery

You can glance at my byline and gather who I am, who I might be—I don’t have to disclose my race to you. Nor can I avoid it, in the same way it’d be impossible for me to hide my race from you on the street.

Pick Me

The ability to choose is a luxury, a delightful freedom, a tricky exercise for a mammal that probably never imagined it would be asked to decide so much.

S&M Sells

BDSM is not inherently radical or alternative. It’s just a way of having sex.

In Praise of Tender Machines

Technology also acts as a direct vector of memory. There are few feelings stranger than sitting in bed in your underwear, photoshopping a snapshot of your dead grandparents.

The Anatomy of Dreams – Chloe Benjamin

Too many sentences feel freighted with meaning — too small to be foreshortening, too clunky to seem clever in hindsight.

Where the Wild Things Went

Emotional precarity — the wildness, the effervescent joy and crushing despair and uncertainty that chart the emotional landscape of most young people — is appealing for some time. It is interesting. It is also easy.

I Called Him Necktie – Milena Michiko Flašar

We realize: no one is what they seem. We realize: everyone has private tragedies; everyone is a tiny book.

Selfie at the End of the Universe

Images of our IRL lives, time-stamped and geo-logged and hi-res or lo-, might be one of the few ways in which we can swim against an entropy that will eventually swallow us.

The Last Lover – Can Xue

Hour three: My head hurts. I feel like I have been translating. I have stopped tweeting.