Annoying bits of pistachio shells fall onto my skirt, littering the surface of my black tights like snow. Doug, the show’s “producer,” stands to my left, eyeing me in watchful disd[...]

The wind breathes mossy air over the East River, hot like breath. I keep waiting for spring to retract its premature promises.  I watch the canopy spread its arms above my street, [...]

FEEL MORE! Golden words commanded from their place on a clean windowpane. Words advertising clothing and midcentury furniture, a lifestyle this particular store wanted to promote. [...]

“It smells…like…like flowers in here.” The four of us walk through a marble lobby, complete with doorman, $1,000 centerpiece, and an aroma I only ever associate with impossibly exp[...]

With my trustworthy Xanax and a healthy serving of wine from a clear, plastic screw-top bottle, I fall asleep after dinner and wake up to breakfast – a shitty white roll that looks[...]

“Aries are, like, the only people who can stand up to me. They’re the only ones who won’t put up with my shit.” I am sitting across from a Taurus with puffy cheeks and words that h[...]

This is an excerpt from “Upright,” Jenny Bahn’s essay on depression and therapy for Machine Wash Warm, the FlipCollective e-magazine. Machine Wash Warm can be pur[...]

1 – In Which Jenny Makes A Request   Dear Paul, A horrible event has arrived. No, it’s not my 30th birthday (though said birthday will come soon enough, no doubt). I’m talking[...]

Time is like that shirt I keep putting in the dryer, convinced it doesn’t shrink, though it does every time, little by little.  Little by little, it changes.  The hem rises, the si[...]

“He’s here.” Carey has rounded the corner and is facing me with her tan skin and her beautiful hair, her lips that are always perfectly glossed and her milk white teeth.  She’s not[...]