Let Me Tell You Something About This Life I Built

Let me tell you something about this life I built. You see, I’m a patient motherfucker. I’m a wait in the tall grass motherfucker. You probably see me in the big house, with the carefully manicured lawn, and the 401(k) statements and the kids’ birthday parties and all kind of cakes and cookies and must think you stumbled upon a sedentary man. A man doesn’t know how to be active kind of man.



Interview with David Bingham

MM) Yellow Switch Palace is a lot of things. It is somewhat grandiose science fiction. It is K-Mart realism/alt lit. It’s a collegiate bildungsroman. A kind of hallucinatory love story. What first spurred the idea, and could you unpack your process of writing and editing it? I can infer you’ve been writing it for at least as long as 2019, when Gloria Vanderbilt, who is offhandedly mentioned, was still alive.



Inheritance – Cash Compson

My grandmother is so fucking drunk.

        It’s always like this. I come sleep here between shifts sometimes—because she needs visitors once in a while, yes, but also because every time I sleep in the newsroom on the filthy couch in the editing bay there’s always some weird producer in the middle of the night “checking on me,” which really means popping his head in to watch me sleep,



In Cash – Z.H. Gill

In case of sudden mist, remain
in a miniature

tank in the woods behind
your house, the back
there of your teen

years; buried in your yard
you’ll find buries
in your yard;

the stretching of the pulley is
always a safe bet in the
sense that she works

best alone;