by Colin Kielty
I don’t remember much about 1994, but I do remember the Northridge earthquake. At the ripe old age of 8, the quake formed one of my earliest memories of fear. Shattered dishes or broken lamps littered nearly every room of the house. Family friends had their foundations split in two. The king-sized oak headboard that loomed ominously over me whenever I’d jump on my parent’s bed was promptly out the door the next morning (we only waited to find help with moving the beast)…
In Squaring Off, Zócalo invites authors into the public square to answer five probing questions about the essence of their books. For this round, we pose questions to Jay Feldman, author of Manufacturing Hysteria: A History of Scapegoating, Surveillance, and Secrecy in Modern America…
by Ken Murray
Once, when I was a young doctor, I saw an elderly lady in urgent care who complained of severe constipation. She’d already seen several doctors but with no luck. I confidently put her on some stuff that would really clean her out, and I referred her to a great colleague. When I ran into this doctor later, I asked how things had gone. “Great!” he said. “Only one problem. When she said constipation, she meant diarrhea.” …
by Hilary Sideris
He studied the plan & proportions
of every worthy ruin in Rome,
forgot to eat, daydreaming
weights & wheels, time …
by Catherine Mangan
Once upon a time (don’t get any ideas, this isn’t a fairy tale), there was a little girl who dreamed of white weddings, pixie dust, prattling forest animals and kisses strong enough to shake you alive. She made Tinkerbell-shaped angels in the snow and had such giddy tea parties with her dolls, the Queen herself would have begged, borrowed and stolen just for an invite…
ArticlesFeuilletonFriday, December 3, 2010 How One Family Created Chinese America
PoetryThis week in L.A.From the green room
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