(from Tin House, vol. 10, issue 3)
When we finally stopped, the cooler emptied of ice, we were breathing so hard it was like we’d all been fucking for hours.
I really liked this story and… Look, I know it’s this thing some dudes dream about: the crazy, quirky, don’t-give-a-fuck badass chick who’s a little into violence, a lot into sex, who lives for the moment and appalls all the stiffs around her. People try to be that girl and it never works out. People try to date that girl and it only works out for a little while. It doesn’t work out for the strangely-named Wage in this story, the guy who loved throwing pieces of ice as much as the fuck-up sister-to-a-friend who started the ice fight-as-acceptable party activity. So, this girl doesn’t exist, she’s a kind of male fantasy, the “Totally Hot Chick Also Way Psycho” who has no place in the real world. Except she does exist, sometimes just long enough to realize she doesn’t have a place in this world. Sometimes longer, and that’s how it gets really sad. Not because she’s outgrowing the role, but because nobody’s helping her. They’re too busy being apalled or finding the whole idea hot.
Here‘s Kevin Wilson’s site.
You can read the whole thing here, and you should.