Tag Archives: free

THE FREE STUFF: Future Sex by Emily Witt

future-sex

Future Sex is a collection of Emily Witt’s groundbreaking essays about the different ways young people are having sex, right now, today. And all of you broke-ass perverts are lucky, because 4 of the 8 essays are available online for free.

Internet Dating was originally published as “Diary” in the London Review of Books.

Internet Porn was originally published as “What Do You Desire?” in n+1.

Live Webcams was originally published as “Are You Internet Sexual” in Matter.

Burning Man was originally published as “Diary” in the London Review of Books.

You might also like Emily Witt’s New York magazine article about men who give up masturbation.

But if you want to read “Orgasmic Meditation,” “Polyamorists,” “Birth Control and Reproduction,” or “Future Sex,” you’ll have to get the book.

Brian Hurley is an editor at Fiction Advocate and Books Editor at The Rumpus.

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PIECE BY PIECE: Clothed, Female Figure by Kirstin Allio

clothed-female-figure

We asked Kirstin Allio to introduce us to her short story collection–one piece at a time.

Millennium

The windows of the apartment were waxy, and had been painted shut in another era. If you pressed yourself against the interior-facing glass you could see, as if at the bottom of a secret well, a murky courtyard where a few scorched houseplants had been left for the wife of the doorman… I theorized that the millennium was like the Wizard of Oz—the moment before he reveals himself from behind the curtain.

Clothed, Female Figure

I came to New York at twenty-six and married the first man I met, literally and proverbially. He stuck his head around the fire escape. “Hey,” he said. “Neighbor.”

He had a loopy, charming grin and hard eyes the color of lapis. I had just brought home a pot of daisies (margaritka, in Russian), and I was setting them out on the little balcony. I wouldn’t have called it a fire escape. My English was good but not specific. He climbed over, still grinning, as if he were shy of my beauty but like a dog couldn’t help himself. He had long legs in tight jeans and white socks with holes in them. So already we were intimate. We had one son, Arturo, named after my husband’s father, the patriarch. The family business was Italian tiles. We were a mismatch from the beginning, although there were never any lighthearted fairies making fun of us.

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