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Tag Archives: performance



I hate running. It’s the absolute worst – it makes me sweat and gasp for breath and I’m NEVER fast enough. People who run for fun, or sport, or to “feel good” or whatever – I will never understand you. Unfortunately, I have significant experience in running, not because I ever wanted to, mind you, but because I have been in so many situations where I’ve had to catch something.

The first time I realized how much I hate running was one of the thousands of times I was late for the bus to school. The bus stop was right down the street from my house, and the bus driver was always tickled by any chance she got to drive right past me as I stood yelling at the end of my driveway – shoes untied, hair un-brushed, completed homework still sitting on the coffee table.

This particular time, I was determined not to give her this satisfaction. So, in my usual late-and-pissed-off state, I bolted down my driveway, (which was a large and steep dirt hill, by the way), but didn’t make it all the way down without eating some dirt, of course. I had to have fallen at least three times on the way down the street – never successfully completing a perfect somersault however hard I tried – eyes focused on the idle bus at the corner, daring it to drive past me now.

My classmates clapped wildly as I made my way to my usual spot in the back, which was both mean and funny of them.

I know that it’s not fair to blame the act of running for my lateness and untied shoes. However, I’ve had plenty of unpleasant running experiences while my shoes were tied. I chased my dog Tillie when she ran away about once a month, and pages 13-48 of my script for Our Town when I was a senior in high school and FINALLY got the lead in the spring play. I chased a few baseballs when they were hit toward my post in left field, and when there weren’t any baseballs to catch, I was being chased by lots and lots of mosquitoes.
Most of my attempts to catch things by running after them were unsuccessful.

So I’d like to use this time to inform all of you that I have given up running.

I’d also like to inform all of you of our Literary Flash Mob this Saturday, September 13!

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Four Chambers at the Farmers Market!


I didn’t eat a lot in college. I don’t know why, exactly. Granted there’s something to be said for the quality of the offerings–our dining hall was named Englar, we called the food Glarbage, we spent a lot of time talking about how the people who ran the cafeteria provided similar services for jails / prisons–I think I just wasn’t interested in eating. Like, why bother with food when I could be, I don’t know, reading a book! writing a paper! talking a lot in class! drinking crappy beer in the same crappy apartment week after week! reading more books! repressing anxiety! frenetically lifting weights!

It’s not that I couldn’t have eaten food if I had really wanted to. Other people ate food. Nobody was hiding it from me. It wasn’t a hard thing to do. You just went out and got some. But I was so introverted, clearly repressing a lot of anxiety, not to mention a late bloomer in high school to boot, that I guess I just never realized it.

When I finally became intestinally active, my relationships with food were wild, passionate affairs. I couldn’t control myself. I’d buy big bottles of fancy lemonade and down them before I even made it to the parking lot. I could barely walk through the aisles without having some kind of gastronomic fantasy. I would see a juicy peach and, in my imagination, I would take it home and make a delicious pickled chutney. Those artichokes? I would slow roast them with fennel and white balsamic and eat out their hearts.

In reality, I simply wasted time and money and made a lot of mistakes. That peach? It sat in the basket and withered in the heat. Those artichokes? Molded. The trash. One time I even took home a can of sardines thinking I would eat it with saltines or something. They’re still in the cabinet. I don’t know what I was thinking.

And the fact remained that, though the meals I had were satisfying in themselves, I was ultimately, always, inevitably wanting more. The fuller I found myself, the emptier I became. Everything turned to shit. And so I finally decided that I would just stop eating.



And it is on this relatively down note that we continue our tradition of bringing the best fresh, local, organic contemporary literature to the Downtown Phoenix Public Market to begin our second season of


Saturday, September 6th 2014
The Downtown Phoenix Public Market
721 N Central Ave
Phoenix, AZ 85004
10 – 11:30 am


Each of whom was gracious enough to provide us some sample work for us to post on our website (which you can read after the jump)


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