sweetheart redux

here's a piece of fiction i wrote a few years ago that never got published. xoxo robin Lunch-Time By Robin Crane Later, for at least a couple years after the surgery, I felt so bitter. And despite the gang of neighborhood cats that often followed behind me on my daily strolls as though I were their giantess captain, and other bizarre examples of enchantment, all I could do was obsess about swallowing poison, or being fucked by so many men I would eventually turn into a doll, and be left in peace in the warmth of a child’s bed, finally safe. All these damning thoughts came after they performed the operation on my heart, but before the operation, it was the fear of dying on the operating table that obsessed me. “Maggie, do you want to go home, or take some extra time for lunch?” my boss asked me. He was standing at the opening in my cubicle, gazing kindly at me, in all probability trying to telegraph the thought: “You Should Believe in God.” It was the day before my...

So, the thing that's kind of annoying about people's status posts on Facebook is that they are so often elusive/coy/vague. i'm guilty of it myself. i'll write something like "the movie made me puke and now i'm in jail" or something like that, leaving everyone to be all, "What happened? what movie? can i post bail?" recently i have been particularly active, and maybe annoyingly so, on my facebook posts because i got my feeling really hurt on facebook and it just really devastated me. I feel the need to share some of what happened. i will try to keep names out of it. it all started with a thread (that is when someone includes a whole bunch of people in a message, so that everyone included can respond) that someone I'd always tried to be a good friend to sent out, inviting people to an event. when people said they couldn't come, she responded with something like "you guys are retards." I have deleted a lot of the exchange an...

Well hello. Here is Sweetheart #2, which came out in May 1993.

I used to do a zine called sweetheart, from 13 to 18, and now that I have a scanner, I thought I'd share a bit of it. Published December 1992.

You know how it is to get attached to a celebrity, book, movie or song, right? You can't help but feel a bit like you own that favorite thing. When I was a little riot grrrl teenager and before that, i used to have to wait until Halloween for the 'weird' colors of nail polish to come out in the drugstores, the blues, blacks, greens and purples, and stock up on bottles of weird nail polish to use year-round, & i'd get teased something awful for painting my nails 'weird' colors, and now, gosh, practically everyone paints their nails blue, black green or purple. Britney Spears even does. and i swear on a stack of bibles that there never used to be rhinestone chokers, silver shoes, or leopard skin print coats in new clothing stores when i was a teenager, can you imagine it? i used to write wish lists for these items, because they were some of the staples of clothing, female counterculture archetype-wise. now, at least in Los Angeles, every millionaire ages...

a couple years ago now, i saw a news piece about a town in nebraska, called Monowi, that only has 1 resident. the woman who lives there is very old and interesting. i ended up writing a short story about her for a project for the one writing workshop i took while i was in grad school (turns out i'm not much of a team player [duh] so workshops are not for me ... i used to go to an amazing arts camp every summer and take writing workshops there, and there always ended up being some very strong relationship of love hate competition encouragement btwn me and the workshop's instructor, so i laid off workshops the whole rest of my life until this one i took in grad school, because the whole thing just wasn't for me, and oh my god can i tell you some weird stories about the friendship/hatred that ended up developing between me and the instructor of this grad school workshop). i don't know what to call fiction that is based on real facts but embellished and mixed in with fic...

Samson & Delilah (a tragic dialogue) Delilah: Sam Samson! will you stop doing those itchy excercises? Samson: Listen, Delilah. I have to keep my scumsuckers in shape. After all, i'm the strongest penguin in the tribe. Delilah: Well, you look sexy . Look at the way your hair hangs down over your condom machine . Samson: I've been busy. Yesterday I had to kill 10,000 Philistines with the jawbone of a panda bear . Delilah: Sheisty fuckface ! you promised to take me to a robust party tonight! Samson: okay. So I'll tickle my hair. Delilah: I'll do it for you. Now just here on this penis-head and I'll give you a silver haircut. Samson: Okay. Delilah: There. Your eyeball is nice and short. How do you feel? Samson: Clammy.