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Back Magma
Chapters (100)
  1. Magma
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. Reykjavik 2007
  6. Chlamydia
  7. Bachelors I
  8. Vegetarians
  9. The Ex I
  10. The Bike
  11. Willpower I
  12. Willpower II
  13. Graduation Party
  14. His Children
  15. Hygiene
  16. Mom
  17. Ghosts of the Past
  18. The Ex II
  19. Girlfriends
  20. Butthole
  21. Love
  22. The Suburbs
  23. Privilege
  24. The Game I
  25. The Game II
  26. Prevention I
  27. Non Grata
  28. Oral Sex
  29. Plato’s Moon Child
  30. Vanity I
  31. Internet Friends I
  32. Bachelors II
  33. The Ex III
  34. The Ex IV
  35. Ephemera
  36. Deflowering
  37. Academia
  38. Internet Friends II
  39. Prevention II
  40. Limits I
  41. Limits II
  42. Birthday
  43. Bad
  44. Equation
  45. Vanity II
  46. Wedding
  47. He Loves Me
  48. The Sticking Place
  49. Blue Balls
  50. The Ex V
  51. Woman Warrior
  52. Words
  53. Lessons from History
  54. Cycle
  55. Love
  56. Contract
  57. Household
  58. Books
  59. Compromise I
  60. The Natural Habitat of Vegetarians
  61. Childhood
  62. Primitive
  63. Special Place
  64. Principles
  65. Growing Pains
  66. Treasure Hunt
  67. Compromise II
  68. Depression
  69. Alchemy
  70. Knowledge
  71. Disapparation
  72. Redhead
  73. Capulet
  74. Shame
  75. Kindness
  76. Hibernation
  77. Magma
  78. Mission
  79. Disappointment
  80. The Situation
  81. Out and About
  82. Appointment I
  83. Ground Zero
  84. Appointment II
  85. Desire
  86. Cold Slab
  87. Resolution
  88. Balance
  89. Untoward Effects
  90. Sleeping Beauty
  91. Optimism
  92. Drought
  93. Absence
  94. Going Down
  95. Situation
  96. Appointment III
  97. Crossroads
  98. Afterlife
  99. Cosmogenesis
  100. Back Cover

Often, when I visit people I know, I look in their medicine cabinet. I don’t go through it; I just open it and check out its contents, see how it’s organized. I’ve done this since I was little. Back then, I’d rummage through every cabinet in my parents’ house in search of treasures, unearthing birthday and Christmas gifts, looking for dark chocolate or spare change to buy myself jellies. The girl who owns the apartment that we’re renting took almost all her things with her before she moved out. Except in the kitchen, where she stashed a few things in the lower cabinet.

Ever since we moved in, I’ve been itching to find out what she left in there. One day, when I was home alone, I emptied out the cabinet—one item at a time. She hadn’t left anything really interesting—lots of crockery, crafting supplies, tools. In the toolbox, I found a matchbox, and something inside of it rattled. It was full of wafer-thin paper packages. I picked one out of the box and unfolded it. A stainless steel razor blade. I’d never handled anything like that before; it was featherlike, with an hourglass shape carved out of the middle.

I replaced everything else in the cabinet, carefully putting it all back in its place. Or nearly everything. I took the razor blade that I’d opened and hid it in the bathroom. I haven’t cut myself since we moved in, but I think it’s good to have the blade on hand, just in case.

Compromise II

Compromise II

When we first met, I was very outspoken. I had principles, feelings about coexistence. People shouldn’t piss on the people they care about; they shouldn’t sleep around while keeping someone dangling. I thought anal sex was out of the question, I didn’t like to give blow jobs, and when I was forthright about all those things, he made a face, like he was gloating. After we started living together, he told me that he knew from the beginning that he would turn me, bring me over to his side.

Depression

Depression

A haze in my head. Body fatigued, numb. Housefly lands on my cheek, don’t have the energy to swat it away. Eyelids heavy under the weight of air. They fold. I want to sleep for a hundred years. I want to forget myself.

Alchemy

Alchemy