He’s been more honest with me than I’ve been with him. Taken me into his world and I’ve kept him out of mine.

 

CANDOR, EVEN WITH ONESELF BY ROBERT EARLE 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 38 34THPARALLEL.NET

I imagine she had an entire tank filled with red parrot fish in her salon. Impotent creatures. Mouths that can’t close, throats that crush.

 

Red Parrot Fish BY REBECCA DIMYAN 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 38 34THPARALLEL.NET

The truth is, Hollywood just isn’t producing very many well-rounded characters for young male actors to play.

 

MISTER ACT BY GRAHAM DASELER 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 38 34THPARALLEL.NET

These mothers pretend not to hear the running faucet and loud music in the bathroom after their daughters leave the dinner table.

 

SAINT CLARE BY AUDREY J GORDEN 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 38 34THPARALLEL.NET

Busy trying to get her life together. Busy trying to keep everyone in her life happy at once. Busy trying to cram as much into life as possible. Busy dealing with exes and wannabe exes. Busy with everyone—but me…

 

HOW I WAS BLOCKED ON TWITTER BY DAMILARE WILLIAMS-SHIRES 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 38 34THPARALLEL.NET

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34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 38

 

CANDOR, EVEN WITH ONESELF

ROBERT EARLE

 SAINT CLARE

AUDREY J GORDEN

MISTER ACT

GRAHAM DASELER

HOW I WAS BLOCKED ON TWITTER

DAMILARE WILLIAMS-SHIRES

 RED PARROT FISH

REBECCA DIMYAN

SELF PORTRAIT
(THE STRANGE STORY OF TEACHING)

JAMES A BIRD

Listen. Fuck high school. Can I say that? It’s like a disease, a terminal disease, all right? Am I being like too real for you? Mr Nowhere Man? I’m just saying, some people never get over high school. It kills them. Okay.

Think of it like The Wizard of Oz. I know. I was in The Wizard of Oz as a freshman. Munchkin Number Four. Ask anyone who saw it. They remember one thing. The munchkin who slapped Dorothy on the ass as she headed off on The Yellow Brick Road. Munchkin Number Four. Squeaky little voice. “Good Luck, Honey!” Now if you want to know about high school, you think about Dorothy on that Yellow Brick Road. That’s high school. Only think of The Yellow Brick Road as Cancer. “Dorothy,” Glinda says to her, “the tests came back positive. You’ve got Yellow Brick Road.” And she never gets over it. She’s clutching all her friends and trying to get home again, and she’s like all us desperate high school kids clutching all our strange friends. And they are strange friends, right? Some have no brains, some have no heart, no courage. Right? Something wrong with all of them. Damaged. And they’re all trying to get home, trying to find some childhood they left behind. But high school’s killing all of them.

When Dorothy finally gets a glimpse of home—it isn’t the same any more. The high school girl is dying and all she can see everywhere are the faces of those friends she had on The Yellow Brick Road. “Oh, you were there! And you were there! And you were there!”

A real yearbook moment.

Only everybody’s laughing at her because the dream is over.

Ding-dong. Dorothy’s dead.

 

Am I being like too real for you? Mr Nowhere Man? I’m just saying, some people never get over high school. It kills them. Okay.

SELF PORTRAIT (THE STRANGE STORY OF TEACHING) BY JAMES A BIRD 34TH PARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 38 34THPARALLEL.NET