POLAND. 1948. Teresa, a child in a residence for disturbed children, grew up in a concentration camp. She drew a picture of “home” on the blackboard.
Dear Friend, from My Life I Write to You in Your Life
“The train stopped. When a train stops in the open country between two stations it is impossible not to put one’s head out of the window and see what’s up,” Mansfield wrote at the end of her life. This is the inevitability of life: the train, for reasons unknown to us, always stops between a past and a future, both making this now look as though it is nowhere. But it is this nowhere-ness that one has to make use of. One looks outside the window: the rice paddies and alfalfa fields have long been the past, replaced by vineyards and almond groves. One has made it this far; perhaps this is enough of a reason to journey on.
By Capt Stephen L. Szyszka (Ret.)
With the recent developments in Ukraine, I feel obligated to take a new approach. Certain disinformation, repeated by many media outlets and intellectuals (some would say, provocateurs) in the West, like Stephen Cohen of Princeton, has been raging for months, and now it is in full attack mode. I will repeat certain of these assertions, and then provide a clarification of the same.
Ukrainian soldiers (left) and unidentified gunmen (right) at the gate of a Crimean infantry base. Photo: Darko Vojinovic/AP
In this installment of ENDNOTE, we read about writing. Featuring: What do writers eat? MFA or NYC? Why do we procrastinate so much? What happened to lyric poetry? And an interview with Roxane Gay on writing and self-care, or lack thereof.
1. My Parade, Alexander Chee, BuzzFeed Books
From the ongoing series Tabloid Fictionâin which an author chooses from the trashiest, most lurid, or just bizarre stories of the moment and writes a short story inspired by same. The following is a work of fiction.
Last night after the No Regrets event I took the F home and there were two incredibly drunk guys in my car, middle-aged white guys in button-down shirts, not young fratty bros. They were hugging a pole in the middle of the crowded car, talking to each other loudly, moving unsteadily, slurring…