Amelia Gray

slowartday: Luis Dourado

Sat, 18 May 2013 14:30:33 -0400

slowartday:

Luis Dourado

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Fri, 17 May 2013 20:06:18 -0400

beautilation: Engraving by Max Ernst, 18th century

Thu, 16 May 2013 16:24:00 -0400

beautilation:

Engraving by Max Ernst, 18th century

architectureofdoom: controproducente: West Hyde, nr....

Tue, 14 May 2013 15:21:58 -0400

architectureofdoom:

controproducente:

West Hyde, nr. Rickmansworth, Herts (by dubmill)

View this on the map

memoriastoica: “The Castle” and “The Saltbox,” old historic...

Sat, 11 May 2013 11:29:52 -0400

memoriastoica:

“The Castle” and “The Saltbox,” old historic Bunker Hill homes, sit on blocks awaiting their removal to Montecito Heights.

Circa 1969.

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Wed, 08 May 2013 18:19:43 -0400

CLMP recommends "These Are the Fables" by Amelia Gray

Wed, 08 May 2013 10:27:37 -0400

recommendedreading:

Vol. 13, No. 3

EDITOR’S NOTE

If I’m the first person to tell you about Amelia Gray, we obviously don’t have any Facebook friends in common. More than a few CLMP members have published her: Tin House, Guernica, DIAGRAM, American Short Fiction, to name some. And Flavorwire just named her one of The Top 10 Best Millennial Authors You Probably Haven’t Read (Yet). So, let’s do something about that.

I first encountered Amelia Gray accidentally at a reading, maybe four years ago. She got on stage with a handful of note cards and said she was going to read some “threats.” And then she proceeded to scare the crap out of me. With each card, a promissory note of a very awkward and/or terrifying thing that would happen (to who? me!? gulp). And, once she pronounced the threat, she crumpled it up and chucked it at the audience. I bring this up to warn you: Amelia gets up in your face.

Her stories aren’t the type you read and then forget when and where you read them. You’ll remember. You’ll remember because it’s like rubber cement, or some other addictively-bad smelling thing, that you can’t get away from and have to roll-peel off your skin for days. Take “These Are the Fables,” for example. Believe you me, the burnt sugar smell of the blazing Dunkin’ Donuts is going to need more than a shower to ditch.

In the glow of the glazed and sprinkled flames, is a couple too-old-to-be-forgiven-for-this-type–of-behavior plotting their next moves through Texas. They learn they’re with child. We learn what we think is a lot about how to read this couple. From the get, you’ll think Amelia is generous with the details. She lures you in with information, you think you have it all down, and then you realize those surface information nuggets are just a distraction and all the while something else has been happening. There isn’t a lot of action or a big cast, and yet, each encounter, every action, like any great short story, is just so—well—pregnant. So in this trail of smoke through Texas towns avoided and considered, here’s a story about closed doors, physical contact, willful ignorance, the search for meaning, obsessive love, the inertia of the day to day, and, ultimately, what to share. And, while the images of the couple can at times be endearing, each time you read this story, you’ll say to yourself, Jesus H. Christ there is just something menacing about this picture.

Steph Opitz
Former Programs Director
Council of Literary Magazines Presses

Join us in supporting
free fiction

These Are the Fables

by Amelia Gray

Recommended by CLMP

WE WERE IN THE PARKING LOT OF A DUNKIN’ DONUTS IN BEAUMONT, TX when I told Kyle that I was pregnant. I figured I’d rather be out under God as I announced the reason for all my illness and misery.

I said to him, Well shit. Guess we’re having a baby.

“Lemme see,” Kyle said. I handed him the test and he squinted at it for a second before tossing it into a bush. A stranger set his coffee on the roof of his car and clapped. Kyle flipped him the double deuce. “People these days,” Kyle said.

I said that my mama will be happy.

“Here’s the thing,” he said. “Your mama’s dead. And you’re forty years old. And I have a warrant out for my arrest. And I am addicted to getting tattoos. And our air conditioner’s broke. And you are drunk every day. And all I ever want to do is fight and go swimming. And I am addicted to Keno. And you are just covered in hair. And I’ve never done a load of laundry in my life. And you are still technically married to my drug dealer. And I refuse to eat beets. And you can’t sleep unless you’re sleeping on the floor. And I am addicted to heroin. And honest to God, you got big tits but you make a real shitty muse. And we are in Beaumont, Texas.”

I said, These are minor setbacks on the road to glory.

“And,” Kyle added, “the Dunkin’ Donuts is on fire.”

Read More

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Mon, 29 Apr 2013 00:37:30 -0400

"After learning my flight was detained 4 hours, I heard the announcement: If anyone in the vicinity..."

Sat, 27 Apr 2013 14:55:30 -0400

“

After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.

Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she
Did this.

I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?

The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—
She stopped crying.

She thought our flight had been canceled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late,

Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and
Would ride next to her—Southwest.

She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.

Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.

Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours.

She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering
Questions.

She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered
Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.

To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.

And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—
Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African
American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too.

And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing,

With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.

And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.

Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped
—has seemed apprehensive about any other person.

They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere.

Not everything is lost.

”

- Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.”

michaeldwaynesmith: The Anger of Gods, Magritte

Thu, 25 Apr 2013 13:56:48 -0400

michaeldwaynesmith:

The Anger of Gods, Magritte

davetada: Citibank Echo Park, CA

Wed, 17 Apr 2013 10:40:53 -0400

davetada:

Citibank

Echo Park, CA

average-grief: oh, hi. nothing. nothing.

Thu, 11 Apr 2013 15:52:21 -0400

average-grief:

oh, hi.

nothing.

nothing.

Opening of Laird Hunt’s KIND ONE

Thu, 04 Apr 2013 12:31:05 -0400

Opening of Laird Hunt’s KIND ONE

Longreads: Longreads Member Pick: House Heart, by Amelia Gray

Wed, 03 Apr 2013 21:09:53 -0400

Longreads: Longreads Member Pick: House Heart, by Amelia Gray:

longreads:

This week’s Member Pick is “House Heart,” a short story by Amelia Gray, the author of the novel Threats and short story collections Museum of the Weird and AM/PM. “House Heart” was published in the December 2012 issue of Tin House—here’s more from Tin House assistant…

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Mon, 01 Apr 2013 23:22:48 -0400

Bill Murray from brightwalldarkroom, who did a Bill Muray week...

Fri, 29 Mar 2013 14:29:09 -0400

Bill Murray from brightwalldarkroom, who did a Bill Muray week recently.

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Wed, 06 Mar 2013 12:46:08 -0500

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Tue, 05 Mar 2013 14:42:45 -0500

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Sun, 03 Mar 2013 17:19:23 -0500

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Sat, 02 Mar 2013 04:27:50 -0500

Amelia Gray

slowartday: Luis Dourado

Photo

beautilation: Engraving by Max Ernst, 18th century

architectureofdoom: controproducente: West Hyde, nr....

memoriastoica: “The Castle” and “The Saltbox,” old historic...

Photo

CLMP recommends "These Are the Fables" by Amelia Gray

Vol. 13, No. 3

EDITOR’S NOTE

Join us in supportingfree fiction

These Are the Fables

by Amelia Gray

Recommended by CLMP

Photo

"After learning my flight was detained 4 hours, I heard the announcement: If anyone in the vicinity..."

michaeldwaynesmith: The Anger of Gods, Magritte

davetada: Citibank Echo Park, CA

average-grief: oh, hi. nothing. nothing.

Opening of Laird Hunt’s KIND ONE

Longreads: Longreads Member Pick: House Heart, by Amelia Gray

Photo

Bill Murray from brightwalldarkroom, who did a Bill Muray week...

Photo

Photo

Photo

Photo

Join us in supporting
free fiction