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liking Lear jets for talking to Keith Richards on the phone. Lindsay was still crying when she slammed herself into Sam’s backseat. Knock knock, asked Sam. Who’s there? asked Lindsay. Nicholas, said Sam. Nicholas who? Nicholas girls can’t climb trees! Sam shrieked, grinning, That was a British joke, for England. In honor of England. England! She held a fist to the air in England’s name. Fuck England, Lindsay whimpered, I need a cigarette. Can I have a cigarette? Leave it to Lindsay to go to London and then come back crying and whimpering Fuck England, Sam thought, punctuating her own thought with an eye-roll. Sam wasn’t smoking today, so they stopped in at 7-11, where the baked-goods cabinet whirred warmly. You felt warmer standing next to it. Ben waited in the car. Get a brownie, said Lindsay. You get a brownie, Sam shrugged, I’m getting a cherry cruller. She picked up a cherry cruller with plastic tongs, like surgery, and slipped it into a waxy paper bag. The bag had a clear panel down the front so you could ogle your goodie. Ew! Lindsay squealed. Are you ewing at my cruller? Lindsay nodded. A Buddhist monk once told me that the greatest injustice a human being can commit against another is to criticize the food they put into their body. Lindsay didn’t like that answer and she wore it on her bitchface. How very JD Salinger of you, she clucked, and Sam thought What is this, What is this, What has the world come to that people talk like this, using JD Salinger’s name like this, and everyone knows what she means and we’re all so overeducated full of nothing; this is what we use it for. Clever meanness. Sam just couldn’t go in for that kind of thing, and she couldn’t say How dare you take JD Salinger’s name in vain! because it would mean that she was part of it. For real, she didn’t care about taking JD Salinger’s name in vain whether to be doing it or damning it, or spelling your daughter Zoe’s name Zooey, so many crimes against JD Salinger. They weren’t real problems, and she wouldn’t act like they were. Lucy s so beautiful, Lindsay sighed as they exhaled smoke out front. She’s not that beautiful, said Sam, Her face is too pointy. Angular, Lindsay corrected. No, said Sam, Pointy. She saved her cherry cruller in her purse until she’d let them out. Before driving away, she ripped off a piece of cruller and ate it. Her teeth cut through the crispy icing, a crackling feeling, and the soft cake inside was freckled with drops of cherry. WHY. Why did Keith’s crazy hands look like that? Were there extra muscles in the fingers from playing guitar a lot? His nailbeds were so wide it made her sick: it wasn’t human. And then the weirdest muscly parts were the sections beneath the nailbeds, which puffed up and flared out wider than his knuckles. The widest parts of fingers 37 Register Magazine
are supposed to be the knuckles and Sam checked her own fingers to make sure. I like your ring, Sam said weakly. Keith didn’t bother with words, just flicked up his chin and smiled a long, thin smile. How many people in Keith’s whole life have told him they liked his skull ring? It’s weird to think of what that would do to you, hater of Lear jets, Never got a flash out of cocktails, how is that even true? Dude, you are an alcoholic. He must mean to say cocktails as in cocktails vis-a-vis swigging Jack Daniels straight out of the bottle. Or heroin. Heroin, heroin, heroin. Please, Keith, regale me. Regale me with tales of your heroin use! You wear your heroin tales on your sleeve like your heart. Say it, Keith. Say you like my dress. Tell me I am everything like Anita Pallenberg in Morocco. Keith being fidgety with his charms. Sam stared at his face unapologetically, memorizing every lick of it. Some people live their entire lives without ever sitting four feet away from Keith Richards’ face and they are unlucky. She kind of wanted to yell Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you But yeah, she began with his nose, a bummy old nose with a twisted tip. After Keith went off with Fletch, Sam Google-imaged pictures of young Keith to see if his nose had always cocked off like that and it had, but not that much. Noses keep growing your whole life, right? Even off to the side. And it was redder than the rest of his face; it was no color she had ever seen before. A sotty red nose burnished brown from the sun, so much sun, it was mauve, almost. There were lines on his cheeks that ran north-to-south; she twitched her face around to see a lifetime of which facial expressions could engrave those lines but none, it seemed, in her case. She wanted to run a fingertip lightly across them with her eyes closed and feel the grooves and dips. It looked like under his skin, instead of flesh, there was rope. His chin was weak, but it had always been. His lips were inside his mouth, and his eyes were basset hound bloody, though the soul in his eyes was Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you Love you 38
Page 1 and 2: Our Stories Make Us February 18' Vo
Page 3 and 4: Inside Front Cover 2
Page 5 and 6: Contents: Letter from the Editor By
Page 7 and 8: The inspiration for this issue of R
Page 9 and 10: In 1938, Gertrude Stein published T
Page 11: dents look at intensifiers in Chauc
Page 14 and 15: None of this, presumably, is a sour
Page 16 and 17: At the risk of making a dozen devot
Page 19 and 20: intimacy of the first person, the e
Page 21 and 22: We can, in seconds, compile long li
Page 23 and 24: And yet since literature has its si
Page 25 and 26: nonexistent plot, and, worst of all
Page 27 and 28: hardly matters, since in its extrem
Page 29 and 30: By: Joanna Walsh Joanna Walsh is th
Page 31 and 32: Books Challenging the Gender Binary
Page 33 and 34: By: Laura Jane Faulds 32
Page 35 and 36: self-indulgently, two if you count
Page 37: Mmmm? I talked to Keith Richards on
Page 41 and 42: This was the solution to why she’
Page 43 and 44: Interviewed by: Sandro & Sandra Fer
Page 45 and 46: into words the truth of a gesture,
Page 47 and 48: er. It diminished, then it vanished
Page 49 and 50: The Lost Daughter, I pushed the pro
Page 51: media simply can’t discuss a work
Page 54 and 55: figure of Nina, the young mother wh
Page 56 and 57: Interviewer: What does it mean when
Page 58 and 59: thought I would ever write anything
Page 60 and 61: 59 Register Magazine
Page 62 and 63: decided years ago, had the space an
Page 64 and 65: Soon enough the slices were divided
Page 66 and 67: Lately she’s been spitting, she e
Page 68 and 69: How he missed Jonga at times like t
Page 70 and 71: By: Alice Driver
Page 72 and 73: And when they asked us where we wer
Page 74 and 75: cially since people didn’t talk a
Page 76 and 77: Mary Gaitskill, Bad Behavior The fe
Page 78 and 79: Mahasweta Devi “Please don’t wr
Page 80 and 81: The Horror of Female Adolescence an
Page 82 and 83: sexual drive is reduced to somethin
Page 84 and 85: Favorite Authors & Favorite Books:
Page 86 and 87: Doris Lessing Sandra Cisneros The O
Page 88 and 89:
Women in Love? - It’s frustrating
Page 90 and 91:
to the most recent Pew Report. That
Page 92:
Editor—Elizabeth Pike Managing Ed
Page 95 and 96:
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Page 97 and 98:
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Page 99 and 100:
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Page 101 and 102:
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Page 103 and 104:
Inside Front Cover 102
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