e-revista EgoPHobia - ISSN 1584-6210
by Bart Plantenga Years before Lady Gaga wore her scandalous meat dress to the 2010 MTV Awards there was Bart Plantenga’s 1990s story “Nina Haagen’s Carnivore Couture.” It details an outrageous evening at a Lower Eastside club [was it Club 57?] where an MC-dominatrix named Blossom Deerie presented the evening’s “Carnivore Couture” fashion show by […]
Soon Not with you, and never together, suburb of madness. The train of consciousness is unimportant
Remembrance of Things Past – Marcel Proust Suddenly drowning in waves of nostalgia, not in the sense of homesickness or regret,
Mic poem de dragoste Te-am căutat aşa cum ai fost, nu m-am îndepărtat când mi-a fost teamă că s-ar putea să nu mă parcurgi de la un capăt la celălalt cum trebuie, nici măcar pe ocolite,
by Stephanie V. Sears One usually looks back on one’s formative years with acquired maturity and a critical eye. Alas, in my case, I observe a happy and unabated continuation of the very same foolish impulses and behavior, fraught with a recklessness that I indulgently refer to as joie de […]
by Gustavo Melo Even though I consider myself attractive, as a guy, I never worry about someone drugging me in public. So, when I woke up dizzy and confused, I knew something had gone wrong. I was in an unknown basement with no recollection of how I got there. I did remember picking out the […]
by Douglas Young “Guess who’s coming to the campus coliseum?” Zora greeted Zarius in the hall with a wide-eyed grin as he left the classroom. Zarius got ever more excited as his friend leaned in closer boasting a thoroughly pregnant smile about to birth a big laugh. As he blinked and imagined a […]
by Ella Leynard I was in the Globe Theatre to see the performance of “Hamlet” (1600-1601), a couple of days ago. I do love the rich costumes they wear and the sound of the words. I suspect some are invented by Shakespeare himself. Seldom can anyone afford to do it, because language resists the sudden […]
by Doru Chirodea 44. Killin time last night in me crib. By chance, a friend of mine, a surgeon from Munich Germany, drops by. So, I go, you kinda butcher, right?
Like Runes I know it must be poetry because it seems a