“Mommy, why is our house painted different colors? No one else’s house is like that.”
“Because honey, your father likes chaos, and I am an artist.”
The Ewe’s Blood Trickles Down Mazant
I feel pulled towards the earth, not the concrete, but below, as above, there’s only pigs with wings squealing incessantly to raise your hands up though they’re still shittin’ on your sty, chortling at us foreign bodies stuck ruttin’ on stolen land, buried land, land that rears its ugly head and seeks its revenge in paroxysms of passion, land I always feel swelling below my trampling feet.
Every Spotlight Has A Shadow
Showing teenagers, regardless of their identity, dealing with complex and messy situations isn’t innately a bad thing. But when these nuanced stories are only told by older cis-het creatives like Sam Levinson, they tend to become a spectacle of voyeurism
Subsisting and Social Distancing with 12th Street
At the end of the Fall 2021 semester, some of the 12th Street editors got together online and wrote some thoughts on how we keep ourselves amused and healthy these days. And from all of […]
Notes from In Between
The volume alone/
slurred over tones of defeat/
should be enough for you to know/
we’re not as discrete as we seem
It’s Not Kind Of A Funny Story
For Ned and all the books that helped me. Seriously because. . . “I’m smart but not enough—just smart enough to have problems.”-Ned Vizzini TW: depression, grief, suicide, mania, mental illness, drugs, alcohol, mentions of […]
Love Of A Sniper
I’m convinced. Relationships just aren’t for me. Every time I try to cultivate a relationship with someone, it always ends in a gut-wrenching, mind-boggling, what-the-fuck happened, and what was it all for kind of […]
Dreams Like
Hostage to circumstance/
try to affirm that I’m magic
Dead Name
It was one of those first days of fall, where the light suddenly feels more distant. Golden hour and Greenwood Cemetery had an ephemeral glow, a stark contrast to the detritus of our lives collecting […]
An Interview With Claire Potter
I had the pleasure of sitting down with Claire Potter, author and Professor of History at The New School. Potter is the Co-Executive Editor of Public Seminar, she hosts the podcast Exiles on 12th Street, […]
Fables
A girl runs away from home, hoping to see her boyfriend. It’s the middle of the night. She gets in a car with a stranger. They share a beer and things get weird. She jumps […]
Obituary of an Ice Cream Sandwich, or “The Monks and the Trees”
Tuesday, September 21 2021 The grain of the wood floor pulls me deeper as my feet find theirgrounding and my head extends toward the ceiling. I stretch myarms wide, halting the rotation of my right […]
Holistic Pharmacy
At the boundary between East Harlem and Carnegie Hill, my class and I were challenged with creating a food pharmacy that could fuse the needs of two communities, while keeping in mind the imposing problems of gentrification in respect to novelty creation.
With the Success of “Shang-Chi” and “Squid Game,” AAPI Creatives are Hopeful
The representation that recent films like Shang-Chi and shows like Squid Game allowed the Asian American and Pacific Islander (AAPI) community to experience—especially after a year of increased anti-Asian violence due to the COVID-19 pandemic—feels necessary, now more so than ever.
RIDER’S ROOM (Ep.1)
An aspiring African American writer sells an urban TV pilot to a studio and is forced to rewrite the show alongside a team of studio-appointed white writers.
The Home Within my Hips and Head
In time, I learned how to cheat my body’s system, depriving it of food and exhausting it with exercise. I started to walk with my thighs spread apart from each other, keeping my hips locked and my gait wide. My hips tried to relax, begging me to stop putting them in the middle of my mind’s complex-driven conquest. But I was too terrified to hear them plead, terrified of being hated by the cruel boys in my class who wanted someone emptier than I was.
Thursday Night in Pasadena: The Story of a New York Exile and a Realization of Self Love’s Necessity
In New York City, a person knows where they stand. You know before you hop on the subway if a person is going to show up to a date. Then if they’re not showing, and […]
If Blood Were Clear
How convenient for civilization would it be?
Ghost Light
Lonely bulb
Moonbeam beacon
Cascades
On the stage
Pitch black