In Stereo Press

by:  Shane Joaquín Jiménez

 

 Wormfood [4:22m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

“There’s a graveyard in every city,” Scott says as I dig my arms to the elbows into an industrial grade trashbag.  We’re knee deep in a dumpster behind a megachain bookstore on the stripmall edge of town.  The smell in the dumpster is of dead things left to stew, as if we were inside the digestive tract of some rotting titan.  Through the stomped and busted trashbags, receipts have begun to fly about us like quiet, inverted snowfall.  A history of human transactions sent up from the ground beneath our feet.  You learn something unique about the culture from what it has thrown away.

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by: Jonathan Montgomery

 

 David Foster Wallace [
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4:18m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Thought One
He reminds me of my chief rival in Sarah Lawrence College Fiction Workshops Jed who shares the name of one of the Beverly Hillbillies but I assure you he dresses himself in suit and tie before sitting down to the typewriter me a ratty bathrobe and this is one of the many differences between us that could only be resolved by facepunching each week in front of our class intended to leave each other with bloodsquirting deformities… rules developed for the facepunching – before punching the other guy in the face you had to explain one of your differences and the other guy hadta yell out the words ME NOT as loudly as he could… I remember calling him gears and propellers a proud tetnis shot an IQ test craft manufacturing and cheese and I would defend myself as an immense conscience-less moon-bound bird a dish running away with the spontaneous… another rule was to have famous authors come to your rescue one week was billed as SuperFight his guy David Foster Wallace mine Jack Kerouac what kind of violent blows will be dealt? we grinned but instead they laughed and got drunk together and wouldn’t punch each other in the face how could a young writer understand?…

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by: Sarah Rhett

Once sits facing a corner. He sews buttons onto shirts. From the shoot to his left, a gaping shirt emerges; into the shoot to his right, he stuffs the newly buttoned item. All shirts are white. All buttons are pearlescent. As Once buttons shirts, he says to the shoot to the left, “I hate shirts,” and says to the right shoot, “I hate buttons.” Once he finds a red button in the box of shirtless buttons. Once holds it between thumb and index finger, examines it: opaque with two holes instead of four. It is not shiny at all. Once does not notice the shoot to his left clogging with button-less shirts, and he does not shirt any more buttons from the box. Once he regards his red button.

by: Kris Miller

 

 Key Lime Pie: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

I believed that children were great, as long as they belonged to someone else. I took all possible precautions such as condoms and birth control. The thought of motherhood scared me so much that even with the prophylactics, I made my partner use the pull-out method. He hated that.

I was five days late and it wasn’t the first time. But it was the first time that I felt calm, collected. My lover, whom I expected to freak out, was also composed and unruffled as I told him the news of our potential parenthood while sitting at our kitchen table.

He pulled me into his arms and told me that everything was going to be all right and I believed him.

On day six, we took a test: NEGATIVE and yet no period.

While home alone, I couldn’t resist placing both hands on my lower belly or looking into the mirror to see if I had “the glow” I’d heard so much about.

On day seven, we took another test: NEGATIVE AND YET NO PERIOD.

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