My great grandmother on my mother's side, Christina, was born in Sarata, a settlement in what is currently Odessa, Ukraine in 1881. She and her parents were among more than two million Jews fled Russia between 1880 and 1920, arriving in what would become Odessa, WA (they arrived before WA was granted statehood) as they … Continue reading 137 Years Later
Author: L.L. Curtis
You Be You, Buddy.
If you are being told by multiple people that your words or actions are racist, vaguely or otherwise, you should vehemently insist that you're not racist at all and offer to prove it over and over again. Try to bring up a black friend or coworker that you've said hi to at least once. The more you … Continue reading You Be You, Buddy.
Stay Angry, Ladies.
Stay angry, ladies. And stay loud. You have every goddamn reason to and every goddamn right to. And every little girl who comes along after you is depending on it.
Recovering From Poverty and Unwarranted Expectations
I spent the my 20s and the majority of my 30s super fucking broke and doing some incredible juggling to keep roofs over heads, etc. Utilities were shut off on the regular. Phone service? Yeah, that was gone here and there. Electricity would take priority that month. Don't get me started on the reconnect fees if I let … Continue reading Recovering From Poverty and Unwarranted Expectations
Youngs River – Belated Prologue
When this "story" took place, I was 19. I found myself, as I mention in the story, dating a 27 year old man who I thought I was in love with because 19 year olds are idiots. I was still recovering from having my back opened up from neck to tailbone to have my spine … Continue reading Youngs River – Belated Prologue
I got mine.
"Politics just exhaust me," she says while sipping wine out of a frosty stainless steel wine tumbler from the comfort of her deck chair. "I just can't get that worked up about it, you know?" My friend brushes a tendril of wavy blonde hair off of her cheek. "I just prefer to live my life and not think about it. … Continue reading I got mine.
Strip Poker and Spiders
It was the weekend, and my friends and I had decided to meet at a dive bar called The Farm House, a dark, sticky feeling place that always somehow smelled more of stale cigarettes than the cigarettes that were currently being smoked by the patrons holding down bar stools. I was with a group of computer nerds … Continue reading Strip Poker and Spiders
