Memoirs from the Circus
It seems like it’s gonna be one of those nights as I watch the parade of hookers and johns from my vantage point. Stacks and Rubi are there, China is gone, and a newcomer I call Crooked Legs is working the corner. Crooked Legs hasn’t had much luck so far, but I have confidence in her. There are nights when anything can happen; wild, hot nights when uptown folks maunder through the grid in search of adventure, and end up with eventual regrets. Tonight, however, is cold, and so are the clientele.
By Andrew Minh.
Water
As the barman poured the drink, Mr Ahmed caught his reflection in the mirror behind the different shaped bottles. A sudden panic grabbed at his throat. The brown-skinned old man looking back at him had no place there. He would gulp down the juice and leave. He paid and the barman resumed his conversation with two men sitting on high stools. The door flung open…
By Asim Rizki.
Having Sex With Women Who Wear Glasses
Thoughts are pure, words aren’t — I say that somewhere in The Quorum. Any limitations are really those of the translator — the little, plain-looking and altogether responsible pink woman who lives inside your nose. Her job is to ensure that one thing means another. That symbols symbolize. That mind gets lined onto paper in some way accountable to instinct. Some people have better translators than others. Some people ARE their own translators, their own little, plain-looking and responsible pink women. Like Beckett. He had it right: you try again to ‘fail better’.
Travis Jeppesen interviews Joshua Cohen, author of The Quorum.