Isabel Galupo 2015 Lambda Literary Fellow

Isabel Galupo 2015 Lambda Literary Fellow



I'm reading from a short nonfiction piece I wrote to kind of just like wrap my head around its like wonderful super important like surreal feeling experience that has been furiously it's kind of a shot in the dark a blank page recalls the trake phrase the shot in the dark we sit at a round table and trade stories about blazing frontiers it's hard not to compare the soft soles of my feet to the calluses of so many others one day a beedi a cockroach waltzes across the ashen aster jerk and I instinctively pull my knees up to my chest in a cartoon I would have a gun I would have leached a barrage of bullets of the insect under a barely starry sky they would miss every single time lodging me in the bug into a silly dance as a laugh track signal or gradual Veda life sadly is not a cartoon sometimes it's all we can do to lift up our feet most of the time we don't even get the chance but I'm starting to think that maybe there's joy and choosey to keep your feet down and welcoming the warm leggy crawl of the things with stereo or maybe the lesson comes from the infected self scribe your little things that dart through life and reject extinction at every drink I know I'm not the first writer to compare yourself to a cockroach but I do know that the medic there's less than the intention behind it because I've barely spent a week cradled in the arms of in history so much bigger than me and I'm feeling like a flower eager to open up like a shaken bottle of soda ready to let loose on the world that can hard to read hungry to bleed this morning I watched the small brown flake of skin fell off with my sunburned forehead and landed on the bright white ledge of the sink and I examined it under the moment Flores the wet I thought this is it this is my shot in the dark [Applause]

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