Yesterday my account of The Velvet Underground's "reunion" at the New York Library went up on The Rumpus. The piece got picked up at a few places around the internet, including Metafilter, Fark and Digg. I feel like Paul Wall here!
“The building has hit fire code,” the security guard told me. “500 people.” Some of the people outside were holding tickets. I asked the guard if I could use the bathroom out in the hall. He sighed, shrugged and said, “I’ll remember you.” I decided not to risk it.
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Also, two days ago I had a (very short) story go up at Opium magazine. It is called Consequences:
I once knew a girl who’d been smothered with a pillow by her lover. It was the same old story, jealousy of this or another. He didn’t get far and she lived, but she became afraid of anything soft.
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