The flight was from Denver to Aspen, where I was headed for a literary thing. The flying time was 25 minutes. The captain told us it would be bumpy the whole way. That’s when you know it will be bad — when the captain feels the need to warn you. I used to be an . . . Read More

Last night, I woke up at 2:30am. Couldn’t sleep. I read for a while, and then turned to NetFlix. Blue Valentine. Have you seen that movie? I really, really like it. It has the texture of real life. It’s the kind of play/movie/story I was always trying to write in college — uh, see, there’s . . . Read More

Food critics talk about how hard it is to come up with different ways to say “tastes good.” For Dallas music writers, it was coming up with different ways to describe Carter Albrecht. There were only so many times you could say “mega-talented” without sounding like the hack you very well might have been. And . . . Read More

Mr. Lumpyhead was born too early to a mother too young. Because she was too young and too fond of things like drugs and alcohol, which help people forget unpleasant realities like their unwanted pregnancy, this too-young mother never bothered to go to a doctor during her pregnancy. When Mr. Lumpyhead was born too early, . . . Read More

  McSWEENEY’S BOOKS: A Play in Three Acts Setting: McSweeney’s Books, a bookstore, curiosity shop, and shoe rental opened by Dave Eggers in Park Slope, Brooklyn. The store is empty except for one employee — a young man, let’s say 25, with square glasses, a tight navy shirt, and dark wavy hair, matted to his . . . Read More