All tagged celeb city

Taylor Swift and the Wormhole

I made a small shrine to Olivia, who I ate after three months. To her credit, that was far later than the group who were in the recording studio with me. I killed them immediately. Some of their meat, preserved, is still left. Maybe enough for another seven or eight months.

George Clooney, Do You Miss Augusta?

It’s not completely outside the realm of possibility that George Clooney and I could meet. We’re both Kentuckians. He went to Northern Kentucky University for a while, which is where almost everyone I went to high school with ended up. It’s where I went to take the SAT. George Clooney and I have both stood at the center of that campus and felt like we were trapped inside a concrete fortress made by people with cold and barren souls.

The Bearded Lady

The Bearded Lady has dyed her beard blue and threaded it with pearls and tiny shells. Her hip sails out from behind a wisp of blue voile like the prow of a mahogany ship, and her heavy hair, clasped with silver, lifts almost imperceptibly in the wind.

The Crissy

Crissy’s hair is more beautiful than baby smiles. Its length, like butter, its length, like, long. After she showers, she has to pull one or two strands out of her butt crack.


We are at, like, a dance. We are like wearing these new, like, tops. We put lipstick all around our mouths. We feel jealous of each other’s mouths but, like, that isn’t cool, so we keep it to ourselves. We don’t want to dance with anything chubby because it’s like dancing with our stepdads, or dancing with, like, some like weird baby grizzly boy. We are like, yuck.

The Romneys

His hair is kempt, his plaid shirt pressed, and we are grateful. Yesterday, we looked away when he was caught windblown and, there is no other way to say this, pumping his own gas.


So you go to a strip mall in a suburb a few minutes out of town, and the place is like a cross between a doctor’s office and a beauty salon, and they seat you in a comfortable chair, and you tell them a name and they look it up in the Celeb-o-Rater database and print out a sheet of numbers. 

(Not a) Poem Addressing How Harmony Discovers Poetry

I am the fiction fellow at Emory University, where the other faculty are famous and older than me and do not typically want to hang out. I have found myself attending numerous poetry readings this semester, because some guy named Bruce Covey puts on a “What’s New in Poetry?” reading series in the campus bookstore, which is a fucking Barnes & Noble.