A new five-star review! The Two-Headed Lady at the End of the World, by Mark Miller. I have been reading Mark Miller's writing for decades, since back when he went by another name (still does in some circles), back when Miller was mostly writing poetry about anything--often subjects that struck him as odd, twisted, or … Continue reading This is Mark Miller at his finest—think Kurt Vonnegut and Joseph Heller writing a raunchy sex comedy.
Another Great Review!
Amanda and Miranda Morgan are identical twins dreaming about first kisses and playing spin the bottle in the ‘80s of rural east Texas, until a secret government particle collider hidden beneath their family farm accidentally conjoins them. Now they must navigate the normal teenage angst of love, hormones, and popularity as two minds trapped in … Continue reading Another Great Review!
“You’re mad at me for getting a girlfriend,” he said, referring to Emma Gurney, the attractive but not-hot eleventh grader who was not as smart as my brother, but who liked him, and thus began taking him away from me on the weekends.
A random memory of Apollo crosses my mind, and I sigh with regret. Wasserman looks up from his book, and I quiet down. I was sitting at the kitchen table in my parents’ house when I became aware of Apollo’s presence behind me. “What’s up,” I asked, not looking up from my book. He began … Continue reading “You’re mad at me for getting a girlfriend,” he said, referring to Emma Gurney, the attractive but not-hot eleventh grader who was not as smart as my brother, but who liked him, and thus began taking him away from me on the weekends.
But if you want certainty you are in the wrong universe.
“May I speak with Ramdas Bingaman, please?” “Speaking. Who is this?” “Charles Bellaforte in the ISBL front office here.” “Ah, so good to hear from you, Charles. I was beginning to wonder.” “Sorry about that, sir. I have been on the phone with Regency Travel all day trying to arrange your flight to Uzbekistan. In … Continue reading But if you want certainty you are in the wrong universe.
This is the drive I always take. These are the roads and the sights I see. They remind me exclusively of her. How the coming and going is the ritual, and the ritual of a sort of mantra, and the mantra a sort of prayer. And there the bench on Mayfield, which is like a … Continue reading Ritual