“I am a woman who shouts into the sea.” from “Women and the Global Imagination: The Isle of Exile” at Prairie Schooner. Who She Is I found this bio online, but as usual, bios only tell you the facts: ‘Gabrielle Bellot, who has also written under J. Bellot, holds an MFA from Florida State University, where she is currently a PhD Candidate in fiction. She has contributed work to Prairie Schooner, The Missouri…
Happy Friday, Toasties! It's my dad's birthday, so I'd like to wish a very happy birthday to the man who is never too busy to take my calls or challenge my deeply held beliefs about
Star Trek
and sports.
1. I really love musicals -- Phantom is about my favorite play ever! -- and I can't think of anything I'd rather do more than see a brand-new, original musical. But I've been so distracted with my cousin's bridesmaids all staying at my house. There are eleven of them, and they haven't even changed out of their dresses, and it's been three days since my cousin's wedding. As soon as they leave, I'll be able to focus. 2. How…
There's been some good and thoughtful reporting over the Rentboy arrests over the last few days. From Graeme Reid at Human Rights Watch: Rentboy.com connects male escorts to clients in the same way that Uber does for transport, or Airbnb does for accommodation. There are no middlemen, thus affording users control and autonomy over the services brokered through the website. The website connects consenting adults. None of the government statements about the raid have…
A disrespectful maiden becomes your only friend after you kill the man who kidnapped the other man who killed her first boyfriend.
Sir Kay is taunting you.
Your story has broken off, unfinished.
You successfully defend yourself against accusations of having slept with your lord's wife. You have, but you find a way to protest your innocence without actually lying, so God helps you murder your completely justified accusers, most of whom are Cornish.
Aimee Nezhukumatathil's previous World of Wonder columns for The Butter can be found here. With a heavy but happy and wonder-ously stinky heart, I’m sharing that my time here on The Butter has come to an end. As I mentioned last time, I’ve had to trim my outside projects to focus on a couple of book projects during my sabbatical. But not before ending this column with my favorite specimen of all time…
Sulagna Misra's previous work for The Toast can be found here. After I saw Mad Max: Fury Road, I was less preoccupied with jumping into a mental whirlpool of “whether the movie was feminist or not” than I was in examining the trope I saw emerging, as highlighted in this Tumblr post: Pacific Rim: Well written and developed female character fights aliens with her golden retriever Winter Soldier: well written and developed female character fights…
Whether you breastfeed exclusively, prefer to use formula, or have adopted a mix of both methods, we can all agree that nursing is a beautiful, natural moment between a mother and child. It's a shame we still live in a society that shames and sometimes even criminalizes parents for trying to feed their babies in public. Check out these pictures of parents of all kinds that remind us whether we breastfeed or not, it's a…
That night, Grace Jones sang “I Need a Man” just like a man might—tough and lusty, she was a woman who was not just singing to them, but also forthem, as them. She was as queer as a relatively straight person could get. Her image celebrated blackness and subverted gender norms; she presented something we had never seen before in pop performance—a
Previously in this series. If Chris Pratt were your boyfriend, he’d have perfect facial hair that makes him look perpetually, endearingly scruffy, but would never be prickly when you make out. If Chris Pratt were your boyfriend, he’d wear his t-shirts to peak softness, then immediately hand them off to you to wear for lounging or to bed. If Chris Pratt were your boyfriend, that cliché about him loving you best with no makeup…
If you hear any of the following words or phrases used to describe someone in a movie made before 1970, odds are good that they’re trying to tell you about a
tight ankle
, a real
bank-opener
, a
central casting girl
, a man who
knows his onions from his applesauce
.
mensah demary's previous Liner Notes columns for The Butter can be found here. I woke up this morning with a bit of anxiety. Sunday, Brooklyn: the gym loomed, as did multiple deadlines tumbling all around me, as if drowning in one of those playpens full of colorful plastic or rubber balls, and I had emails to answer, and documents to review, and decisions to make. Adulthood awaited, and I didn’t even have brunch plans…
