In the Dark and the Gloom: Alvin Schwartz’s Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark First published in 1981, Alvin Schwartz’s Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark and its two sequels have become a famed rite of passage for many young readers. Skillfully adapted from folklore and urban legends, the stories are gory, disgusting, psychologically complex, and frequently violent, with just enough humor to keep you turning the pages even after you knew reading just one more meant a nightmare or sleeplessness. As skillful as Schwartz’s writing is, the books were also famous for Stephen Gammell’s haunting illustrations which accompanied each story. Together, the writer and the artist created one of the most enduring and memorable works of children’s literature published in our lifetime. Anne Valente and I first met in the MFA program at Bowling Green State University. A New Horse (Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark): Room For One More (Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark): The Appointment (Scary Stories 3): Oh, Susannah (More Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark):
Foundations The High School Where Poetry Covers the Walls Where does musical genius come from? A more reasonable question to ask might be: where did Bob Dylan come from? To find out, music writer Greil Marcus visited Hibbing High School in northern Minnesota, the school where Dylan graduated, and whose legend centers around the school’s striking architecture, lavish decoration and creative influence. Originally printed in 2007 in the journal Daedalus, Marcus’ essay appears in his book Bob Dylan by Greil Marcus: Writings 1968-2010. We share it online here through The New School’s Riggio Honors Program. Climbing the enclosed stairway that followed the expanse of outdoor steps, we saw not a hint of graffiti, not a sign of deterioration in the intricate colored tile designs on the walls and the ceilings, in the curving woodwork. Read the story Like this: Like Loading...
Piton Foundation My Writing Education: A Time Line February 1986 Tobias Wolff calls my parents’ house in Amarillo, Texas, leaves a message: I’ve been admitted to the Syracuse Creative Writing Program. I call back, holding Back in the World in my hands. Mid-August 1986 I arrive in Syracuse with $300, in a 1966 Ford pickup with a camper on the back. One day I walk up to campus. Only out on the quad do I remember: oh, crap, I still have to write a book. Late August 1986 After the orientation meeting the program goes dancing. I leave, happy to have made a new best friend. The Next Day I wake, chagrined at my over-familiarity, and vow to thereafter keep a respectful distance from Professor Wolff and his refrigerator. For the rest of the semester, I do. Classes Begin I put my copy of Leaving the Land on my writing desk so that, if anyone happens to walk in, they will ask why that book is there, and I will be able to off-handedly say: “Oh, that guy’s my teacher. And then I’ll yawn, as if this is no big deal to me at all. September–October 1986 May 1987
Urban Land Conservancy tim | Pulling the Thread of Unsafe Spaces: Part 1 This is the first post in a two-part series. Creative Commons-licensed image by David Swayze "Be your entire self at work." You might hear these words during orientation at a new job, if you work for the kind of company that prides itself on its open, informal culture -- a software company in Silicon Valley, perhaps. When you hear that everybody is free to be their entire self at your workplace, do you hear a promise or a threat? "You're allowed to bring your whole self to work" should be true by default; in an ideal world, it wouldn't need to be said. Here's another thing you might hear tech people say that's so vague as to be tautological: "We don't need a code of conduct, because all we need to do is be excellent to each other or say 'don't be a dick.'" "Be yourself" and "don't be a dick" share at least three problems. Unequal distribution of risk: If you're trans, neuroatypical, queer, or poly, you're probably familiar with the risks of disclosing important parts of your life.
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