Joseph Dante: writer, lackey for literary journals (Hobart, Keyhole, Pithead Chapel), elder brother, quiet queerling, breaker-downer trying to navigate the world of builder-uppers.
Install Theme

In our latest edition of Books That Exist: nefarious felines.

"Nine lives—and none too many."

*looks off into the distance*

The Rejection Quilt →

What has happened (because I hardly look at Tumblr anymore):

  • Lots and lots of rejection; unsure now more than ever whether I prefer cold generics to “you made it to the final round, BUT…”
  • I was nominated for the Best of the Net anthology by Ghost Ocean Magazine
  • I had an essay published on the Rumpus about being a lonely child with morbid fascinations, one of them being the movie Return to Oz
  • I’m now reading fiction submissions for Pithead Chapel
  • I put together an hour-long mix for you about witches and witchcraft

I inhabited a system in which any boy goes through life with a kind of automatic social promotion, able to take his turn first, answer first, eat first. His ideas are welcome, people smile at him, feed him, pay him well. When he is in trouble, he is usually helped first, or told there will be no consequences this time, and ‘this time’ turns out to be every time. He is like a child raised in a bubble, but one who was well when he entered. It’s the bubble that makes him sick.

I was surrounded by men taught to speak over women and permitted to lash out aggressively after being challenged by women. Professors—even female professors—called on men first and privileged their ideas, even when they were bad ideas.

This became even more serious to me when I decided to become a writer. I didn’t want to read books written by men like this, and I didn’t want to be one of those men either.

— Alexander Chee (via mttbll)

(Source: The New York Times, via mttbll)

awritersruminations:

She is drawing and redrawing herself,
her skin sore from erasure.

—Esther Morgan, from “Self Portrait

vintageanchorbooks:

The Paris Library floods, 1910.

vintageanchorbooks:

The Paris Library floods, 1910.