by Larissa Pham

My Wet Hot Drone Summer – Lex Brown

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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

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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

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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

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

In Praise of Tender Machines

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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

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

Where the Wild Things Went

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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

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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

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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

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