Wreckage of Reason: XXperimental Prose by Contemporary Women Writers
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Innovative writing by 39 women writers, including Lidia Yuknavitch, LilyGrace, Laurie Foos, Kass Fleisher, Barbara Baer, Cynthia Reeves, Lauren Schiffman Karen Lillis, Megan Milks, Lyn Halper, Fanny Howe, Suki Wessling, Jessica Treat, Shelley Jackson, Laynie Browne, Roni Natov, Cris Mazza, Elizabeth Block, Geri DeLuca, Alicita Rodriguez, Gwen Hart, Masha Tupitsyn, Martha King, Sarah White, Nina Shope, Carmen Firan, Rosebud Ben-Oni, Anna Mockler, Sandra Miller, E.C. Bachner, Tsipi Keller, Summer Brenner, Amina Cain, Karen Brennan, Aimee Parkison, Lily Hoang, Lynda Schor, Danielle Dutton, Danielle Alexander, Debra Di Blasi, and Alexandra Chasin. -- In this diverse and comprehensive volume, the writers have manipulated traditional ways of storytelling, language, and plot, to express new and distinct ways of seeing and experiencing the world. Narrative form is subverted, provocative subject matter explored, and language takes on a scatological form to depict an authentic human experience that makes reading a truly participatory act. At the conclusion of each work, the contributor has composed a few impressions sharing what inspired her to tell that particular story.
Fucking Poseidon Adventure, The Fucking Poseidon Adventure Two (Hackman was better than Russell…)—water, water, MOMMY, I HAVE TO GO, WHY IS THIS TAKING SO LONG—crumple paper snuffle mucus—water, water—I choose this moment to remember how as a child I used to have to ask my father for a coin to insert into the stall door to be able to—LONG HIKE I WILL NOT BE THE ONE TO BLINK—water, water—MOMMY!—Excuse me, is everything all right in there?—Fine, fine—CUNT!—water, water, splash sprinkle squirt
active. The words take shape there on the cusp of sound and silence. Bhartrhari described four levels of language, beginning with the manifested one: The articulated one (external and audible) The middle one (mental and potential) The witnessing one (latent and formless) The supreme watcher (fundamental to being and transcendental) He said that these levels correspond to levels of self-realization. The written word is inferior to the spoken word because it is unable to produce the kind of
each one bearing an apple or a python. Or else or else. Every weather is remarkable. A rocky hill, a garden—time is geographical and nothing repeats. A flower or death in windows. A controversy like music. Spring leaks information and we call the news. Painstakingly. ‘N’ loved to walk between them. At the opera, he loved intermission, coat check and the parking lot. He loved bridge, the minus sign, the white between words, the night between stars. He loved mostly and through, loved of. When he
businessman. A B&W photo side view of the front of a building, wide white steps as though up to a capitol or stately library, courthouse, college administration. A man in mid leap taking all ten steps in one bound, yes: superman, but going from top step to bottom. Front foot frozen inches from the sidewalk. Briefcase in closest arm — that arm cocked back. Far arm cocked forward holding a newspaper. Dress shoes and suit. White shirt. Dark hair parted on the side. Clipped around the ears. (When I
helped it escape, it would go off and leave me alone. All this I saw when Damon scowled. He’d approach deferentially, as if I were an irritable keeper. I opened the bars, and an angry animal reared, knocked me over, pawed me a little, then went off and left me alone as promised. It returned a few days later, locked itself in, and started the whole thing over. This happened many times in the first years; then Damon met Ramona. For her, there was no panther. What she saw in his scowl was the pain