Bee Lavender's Blog
April 20, 2018
Cautionary Tales of Childhood
New! Limited edition chapbook/zine featuring stories by Bee Lavender and illustrations by Gabriel Liston. For sale in select stores and via Microcosm. (Not suitable for actual children unless they are the macabre sort)
Click here to buy at Microcosm
Click here to buy at Microcosm
January 14, 2016
Ashes to Ashes
Third and final installment of the junkie stories:
Looking at him that day, I didn’t recognize the bogeyman of my childhood nightmares; it was hard to imagine why the kids in the family had always scattered from every room he entered, why the women avoided his company, why the grown men moved carefully out of his way. click for more
These essays were commissioned and scheduled last summer. It is odd that the series finished in the same week Bowie died, but fitting: my aunt would have been amused by the coincidence.
Ashes to Ashes
Looking at him that day, I didn’t recognize the bogeyman of my childhood nightmares; it was hard to imagine why the kids in the family had always scattered from every room he entered, why the women avoided his company, why the grown men moved carefully out of his way. click for more
These essays were commissioned and scheduled last summer. It is odd that the series finished in the same week Bowie died, but fitting: my aunt would have been amused by the coincidence.
Ashes to Ashes
November 20, 2015
Space Oddity
New story - check it out!
We walked through the pebbled paths of the San Michele Cemetery and I pointed out the symbolism of various styles of headstones. Finally we found the rectangle that read Ezra Pound.
My children stood there squinting in the sunlight as I delivered a monologue about modernism, fascism, freedom, and madness.
With each word I knew they were not really listening, that this was a speech they would never remember. I wanted to mark the event with more than just a snapshot of a headstone and a note in a calendar. I wanted the experience to be important, significant, pivotal. I said, “Do you understand?”
click here for more
We walked through the pebbled paths of the San Michele Cemetery and I pointed out the symbolism of various styles of headstones. Finally we found the rectangle that read Ezra Pound.
My children stood there squinting in the sunlight as I delivered a monologue about modernism, fascism, freedom, and madness.
With each word I knew they were not really listening, that this was a speech they would never remember. I wanted to mark the event with more than just a snapshot of a headstone and a note in a calendar. I wanted the experience to be important, significant, pivotal. I said, “Do you understand?”
click here for more
September 18, 2015
Modern Love
I have a new story in Catapult -- check it out!
I was standing in Arianna Huffingtons’s living room in Los Angeles, staring at Gore Vidal. He was sitting on a plush couch, and he waved away a waiter with a tray of mojitos. He grimaced as a line of people formed to introduce themselves, say hello, offer tribute. I had no intention of talking to him, though it was interesting to watch as others made the attempt. He palpably did not want to meet to these people—he probably didn’t want to be at the party at all—and I wondered why he had condescended to attend. I was there because my publisher said I had to go, but Gore Vidal must surely exist beyond such trivial human concerns. Though maybe, like me, he needed a ride in order to escape.
Click here for more
I was standing in Arianna Huffingtons’s living room in Los Angeles, staring at Gore Vidal. He was sitting on a plush couch, and he waved away a waiter with a tray of mojitos. He grimaced as a line of people formed to introduce themselves, say hello, offer tribute. I had no intention of talking to him, though it was interesting to watch as others made the attempt. He palpably did not want to meet to these people—he probably didn’t want to be at the party at all—and I wondered why he had condescended to attend. I was there because my publisher said I had to go, but Gore Vidal must surely exist beyond such trivial human concerns. Though maybe, like me, he needed a ride in order to escape.
Click here for more
August 14, 2015
April 7, 2012
new story
This week Salon featured a story I wrote about being a teenager, having cancer, and Madonna:
click here for more
I didn't write the description, and do not agree that Madonna taught me anything about how to live. Though she had some good tips on wearing lipstick.
Also, the title in the book version is "Fuck You Seattle."
click here for more
I didn't write the description, and do not agree that Madonna taught me anything about how to live. Though she had some good tips on wearing lipstick.
Also, the title in the book version is "Fuck You Seattle."
