of Gertrude Journal is now available.
Art by Gabe Flores and writing by Henry Alley, Alysia Angel, AW Barnes, Stacy Brewster, Lindsay Cameron, Maureen Daniels, Aaron DeLee, Jeffrey Lee Dieter Jr., Alexa Doran, Katherine Frain, Courtney Gillette, Tyler Gobble, Aidan Grennell, Courtney Hartnett, Marissa Higgins, Wes Jamison, Chelsey Johnson, Kristin LaCroix, Serafima Mintz, Megan Murphy, Joseph O’Connor, Simon Perchik, DR Simonds, and James AH White.
Gertrude is pleased to feature "Love for the Bomb" by Courtney Gillette in our current issue. Here is Courtney's piece, which won last year's Gertrude Press Prose Contest:
On the drive to Tennessee, the mood inside the car had soured and I could already feel that our trip was a mistake. We were driving to the Great Smoky Mountains with our friends Alison and Jane, city people going to revel in fresh air. My girlfriend, Morgan, sat in the passenger seat and I sat behind her, trying to dissect her distant mood. Outside, the mountains rose up around us, sunlight drifting through the clouds to illuminate a lake here, a valley there. It was Morgan’s idea for us to go to Tennessee, but now regret seemed to radiate from her decision.
She was from a town in Tennessee fabricated to be the production site for the Manhattan Project. It wasn’t until the bomb was dropped in Japan that the residents were even told what they’d created. Morgan was writing a novel about the atom bomb, drawn to the hot magnet of her hometown’s dilemma: the sentiment for a productive time that was tied to destruction. Everyone did and did not want to remember the bomb. They were proud and guilty, one of those American contradictions ripe for the picking. Read the rest of the story from Issue 22 now »
(n) 1. (vulgarity) a dirty word, similar to “maggot,” “lowlife,” “grubby,” “soft” and “small”; something to be hooked and strung up, without a wince, by the backside for others to crow at on crowded buses. 2. a reply so close to ‘forget,’ meaning one is forgettable, ex. a passing glance, or a passed advance; a curse in the second person singular, singling one out when men yell from beat-up 80’s Ford trucks as one’s crossing an intersection in midday; as in, You better run, faggot! 3. more than a term, it is a sentence for life (from circa 1983–2060); the strange strangers whoop out to estrange that which one has gotten in school but remains long into adulthood, like a scar on one’s knee received on a playground for being funny. 4. the sound drumming beneath that bundle of thorny ribs after running home; a bitter burning, faggot, faggot, faggot. 5. the bloodjet that cannot be removed, no matter how roughly one scrubs, no matter the bleach.