I love Houston. And I wasn't even born here. And I definitely didn't get here as fast as I could. Okay, I was born in the south. Swatting mosquitoes and fighting cockroaches are as natural to me as brushing my teeth. It's just what you do. A day on the…

Cy Twombly passed on back in July, and we here at Gulf Coast wanted to honor him in a big way. His presence in our own city of Houston has been substantial over the years, especially in the form of his own gallery as part of the local Menil Collection…

I hate driving. I think the freeway must be Hell, and I intend not to go there. That said, I can happily reflect that the adversarial nature of my relationship with Houston's roads and drivers is entirely out of keeping with all other relationships I've…

For the sports fan, October is the time of narrative abundance, a time with endings both happy (see Albert Pujols and Nelson Cruz) and despairing (Boston, Epstein, fried chicken), second acts that promise to keep up interest well into the new year (the…

Last Wednesday evening, my cell phone rang while I was preparing dinner. I washed my hands before swiping and double-clicking on the iPhone screen. It was my husband calling to tell me Steve Jobs had died. After hanging up, I texted a friend using Apple's…

People hide themselves in a lot of different ways. Masks are really popular. Also, holes. Closets, forests. Sometimes people hide because they are in danger. Other times, for fun, an exciting way to surprise your friends! Halloween is another good excuse.…

We're very excited to announce the winner and runners-up for the 2011 Barthelme Prize for Short Prose. Our thanks to this year's judge, Sarah Manguso. Winner: "Grand Canyon II" by Erica Olsen of Dolores, CO Runners-up: "Why I Became a Fireman" by Paul…

"The desire of the novel to be a poem. The desire of the girl to be a horse. The desire of the poem to be an essay. The essay's desire, its reach towards fiction. And the obvious erotics of this." ¶Carole Maso The other day in a course I am taking, the…

Here's the honest, embarrassing truth: when I found out I'd gotten a scholarship to attend the Sewanee Writers' Conference this summer, I didn't want to go. I'd just come off of my fifth straight freezing cold, overstimulating AWP and taught at not one…

Do not ask who I am and do not ask for me to remain the same: leave it to our bureaucrats and our police to see that our papers are in order. At least spare us their morality when we write. ¶Michel Foucault, The Archaeology of Knowledge I have a difficult…