Tag Archives: story

Saturday Night Russian

Posted on January 8, 2018 by John Biscello

   It was Jake who first called Anya the Saturday Night Russian. It started when Anya was twelve. Up until that point her wardrobe had been pretty subdued, pretty ordinary. Jeans or capris, T-shirts, sandals or sneakers. Then, seemingly overnight, … Continue reading →

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Center of Nowhere

Posted on January 8, 2018 by John Biscello

    I come from nowhere Daniel, and nowhere is the exact center of the world. Isn’t that exciting?    I agreed with Anya that it was, even though I wasn’t sure what she meant. And I knew if I … Continue reading →

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House of Incest

Posted on January 8, 2018 by John Biscello

Excerpt from No Man’s Brooklyn, novel-in-progress.    Toward the end my mother began to open up. Of course I didn’t know the end was coming, nor did my father.    My mother, during the last several months, had become a … Continue reading →

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Boneyard

Posted on January 7, 2018 by John Biscello

Sometimes you have to walk through the boneyard, in order to reach the garden.

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Borscht and Seashells

Posted on January 7, 2018 by John Biscello

Today I had lunch at Boris and Vera’s. Vera made Borscht. She remembered how I used to love to come down and eat Borscht. It always felt exotic to me. Anya hated Borscht. Which is why Vera appreciated my appreciation … Continue reading →

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Unreaching Anya

Posted on January 7, 2018 by John Biscello

Anya I long to reach you only because I know that you are unreachable. It keeps my longing in a chrysalis state, a cocoon state. Nothing ever grows, it simply hums and palpitates and aspires toward growth. It is the … Continue reading →

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Darking Anya

Posted on January 4, 2018 by John Biscello

   Remember when we were kids and we’d sometimes have sleepovers and listen to the dark together? That’s what you called it, Anya, listening to the dark. Sometimes we’d pretend to be camping. We’d make a tent on my bedroom … Continue reading →

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Neverland Exposed

Posted on January 4, 2018 by John Biscello

Peter Pan’s Jesus complex turns flights of fancy into guilty pleasures, sacred geometry into zero accountability, stillborn freezes into high, happy fevers, starling charms into martyred alibis, deeply felt distances into shallow runs of intimacy, and yet beneath all the … Continue reading →

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Of Time and the River

Posted on January 3, 2018 by John Biscello

   One thing we cannot recover is time.    Perhaps that’s what I have been trying to do.    Perhaps that’s what every writer, as a fugitive stalker, as a heartsick orphan, as the fool-hero in their own movie is … Continue reading →

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The Argument

Posted on January 2, 2018 by John Biscello

Reality and me have disagreements all the time. Reality is, by nature, inviolable. And a bit of an existential bully. I am, by illicit union, a child of fiction. And tender in the center. Reality and me don’t always see … Continue reading →

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