Manners
Perhentian Sunrise
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A story about romance. « The eve of a suitor’s arrival, bigger than Christmas or birthday, I tell you. »
Of human children & language children
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The first word I ever wrote was stsikukha: « pisser ». This is how my nanny Frosya called me to my face. On poetry and pathos in a bastard tongue.
A recipe for word vomit
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On pregnant silences, and how to abort them — via Jane Austen’s Lady Susan, Whit Stillman’s Love & Friendship and our own manners & morals.
An Unlucky Man
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« He rolled down the window, went back to honking the horn, and started waving my underpants out the window. »
How to write; or, how to insult
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Shoulders were slapped, fingers pointed, hearts fired up. Perhaps a little scuffle broke out after class, a boisterous wrestling over insults exchanged. Nothing to be concerned about. Acquiring knowledge was, after all, a combative affair.