When I was a teen, my hobbies were a little singular. I loved moodily soaking in the bathtub in the middle of the night and wearing my pajamas well into the afternoon. Back then, this was the kind of behavior that led to my family and friends teasing me, constantly asking why I wasn’t hanging out at the neighborhood Arby’s like everyone else. But, it seems nightgowns are making a comeback (and perhaps they have been for a while now). In honor of Lana Del Rey’s new song, “hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have” here’s a list of some of my favorite nightwear in the media, and some links so you can get yourself a nightgown to tear around in well into the afternoon.
Read More
Music Friyay: Stevie Nicks, Sun Ra, Hamilton Leithauser
Music brings people together. Communities are created and fostered through melodies, which is why it’s important to promote excellent work by musicians both popular and obscure from all over the world. As a music lover myself, I’m always searching for new music (regardless of when it was released).
Read More
Poetry by Fatima-Ayan Malika Hirsi
Fatima-Ayan Malika Hirsi is the founder of Dark Moon Poetry & Arts, a monthly series which spotlights the creative feminine and non-binary energies of North Texas. She can often be found on Dallas sidewalks using her typewriter to birth poems for strangers. She has been published in Entropy, The Boiler, Anthropology Now!, Bearing the Mask, and elsewhere. Her work has been featured by WFAA, KERA, the Dallas Morning News, and others. Her chapbook, Moon Woman, is forthcoming from Thoughtcrime Press.
Poetry Weekly: Kay Ulanday Barrett, Devin Kelly, Elizabeth Metzger
As the senior managing editor at Luna Luna and the founding editor at Yes Poetry, you could say writing is important to me, especially poetry. For me, it’s vital to highlight poetic voices in order to support literature, activism, and expression.
Read More
Poetry by Karina Bush
Karina Bush is an Irish writer, born in Belfast and now living in Rome. She is the author of three books, ‘BRAIN LACE’ (BareBackPress, 2018), ‘50 EURO’ (BareBackPress, 2017), and ‘MAIDEN’ (48th Street Press, 2016). She is currently finishing up a collection of stories set in Belfast, a story from this collection was recently published by Akashic Books. She is also a visual poet and released a set of visual poems to accompany ‘BRAIN LACE’. For more visit her website karinabush.com and Instagram https://www.instagram.com/karinabushxx/.
Read More
Hillary Leftwich on Happiness & Why It's Important to Love Childhood Films
Hillary Leftwich is the author of the forthcoming collection Ghosts Are Just Strangers Who Know How To Knock from Civil Coping Mechanisms (CCM) Press in 2019. She earned her MFA in fiction and poetry from the Mile High MFA at Regis University. She is the poetry and prose editor for Heavy Feather Review and curator/host for At the Inkwell Denver, a monthly reading series. In her day jobs she has worked as a private investigator, maid, repo agent, and pinup model. Currently, she freelances as a writer, editor, writing workshop instructor, and guest instructor for Kathy Fish’s Fast Flash Workshop. Her writing can be found or is forthcoming in print and online in such journals as Entropy, The Missouri Review, The Review Review, Hobart, SmokeLong Quarterly, Matter Press, Literary Orphans, Sundog Lit, NANO Fiction, Occulum, Jellyfish Review, and others.
Read More
This Moon Playlist Is Everything You Need
Joanna C. Valente is a human who lives in Brooklyn, New York. They are the author of Sirs & Madams, The Gods Are Dead, Marys of the Sea, Sexting Ghosts, Xenos, No(body) (forthcoming, Madhouse Press, 2019), and is the editor of A Shadow Map: Writing by Survivors of Sexual Assault. They received their MFA in writing at Sarah Lawrence College. Joanna is the founder of Yes Poetry and the senior managing editor for Luna Luna Magazine. Some of their writing has appeared in The Rumpus, Them, Brooklyn Magazine, BUST, and elsewhere. Joanna also leads workshops at Brooklyn Poets. joannavalente.com / Twitter: @joannasaid / IG: joannacvalente / FB: joannacvalente
Matthew Dineen is writer and events coordinator based in Philly.
Read More
Poetry Weekly: Chloe N. Clark, Faylita Hicks, Saretta Morgan
Joanna C. Valente is a human who lives in Brooklyn, New York. They are the author of Sirs & Madams, The Gods Are Dead, Marys of the Sea, Sexting Ghosts, Xenos, No(body) (forthcoming, Madhouse Press, 2019), and is the editor of A Shadow Map: Writing by Survivors of Sexual Assault. They received their MFA in writing at Sarah Lawrence College. Joanna is the founder of Yes Poetry and the senior managing editor for Luna Luna Magazine. Some of their writing has appeared in The Rumpus, Them, Brooklyn Magazine, BUST, and elsewhere. Joanna also leads workshops at Brooklyn Poets. joannavalente.com / Twitter: @joannasaid / IG: joannacvalente / FB: joannacvalente
Read More
Jordan Rothacker On the Apocalypse, Jared Kushner, and Daily Rituals
Joanna C. Valente is a human who lives in Brooklyn, New York. They are the author of Sirs & Madams, The Gods Are Dead, Marys of the Sea, Sexting Ghosts, Xenos, No(body) (forthcoming, Madhouse Press, 2019), and is the editor of A Shadow Map: Writing by Survivors of Sexual Assault. They received their MFA in writing at Sarah Lawrence College. Joanna is the founder of Yes Poetry and the senior managing editor for Luna Luna Magazine. Some of their writing has appeared in The Rumpus, Them, Brooklyn Magazine, BUST, and elsewhere. Joanna also leads workshops at Brooklyn Poets. joannavalente.com / Twitter: @joannasaid / IG: joannacvalente / FB: joannacvalente
Jordan Rothacker is a writer living in Athens. His most recent novel is My Shadow Book by Maawaam, available at readspaceboy.com.
Music Friyay: Cigarettes After Sex, Charlotte Gainsbourg, Lee Hazlewood
Joanna C. Valente is a human who lives in Brooklyn, New York. They are the author of Sirs & Madams, The Gods Are Dead, Marys of the Sea, Sexting Ghosts, Xenos, No(body) (forthcoming, Madhouse Press, 2019), and is the editor of A Shadow Map: Writing by Survivors of Sexual Assault. They received their MFA in writing at Sarah Lawrence College. Joanna is the founder of Yes Poetry and the senior managing editor for Luna Luna Magazine. Some of their writing has appeared in The Rumpus, Them, Brooklyn Magazine, BUST, and elsewhere. Joanna also leads workshops at Brooklyn Poets. joannavalente.com / Twitter: @joannasaid / IG: joannacvalente / FB: joannacvalente
Poetry Weekly: Danez Smith, Savannah Slone, Aqdas Aftab
As the senior managing editor at Luna Luna and the founding editor at Yes Poetry, you could say writing is important to me, especially poetry. For me, it’s vital to highlight poetic voices in order to support literature, activism, and expression.
Here are three of my favorite poems I read recently.
Read More
photo: Anna Carson Dewitt
Kate Horowitz On Why Saying No More Often Is Important
Joanna C. Valente is a human who lives in Brooklyn, New York. They are the author of Sirs & Madams, The Gods Are Dead, Marys of the Sea, Sexting Ghosts, Xenos, No(body) (forthcoming, Madhouse Press, 2019), and is the editor of A Shadow Map: Writing by Survivors of Sexual Assault. They received their MFA in writing at Sarah Lawrence College. Joanna is the founder of Yes Poetry and the senior managing editor for Luna Luna Magazine. Some of their writing has appeared in The Rumpus, Them, Brooklyn Magazine, BUST, and elsewhere. Joanna also leads workshops at Brooklyn Poets. joannavalente.com / Twitter: @joannasaid / IG: joannacvalente / FB: joannacvalente
Kate Horowitz is an essayist, poet, and science writer in Washington, D.C. She is also a chronically ill and disabled lady; an enthusiastic, if clumsy, dancer; a cross-stitcher; and a fan of dogs and toddlers. She likes the moon, and moss, and rain, and bedtime snacks, and long walks at night.
2018 Highlights: Reader Favorites
BY LISA MARIE BASILE
In the past year (from 2017-2018), readers have returned over and over to certain articles, essays, and poems here at Luna Luna, and we wanted to showcase some of those reader favorites. (To us, everything we publish is our favorite). We also included articles that resonated with our audience in profound ways, like generating a lot of dialogue or those that took part in a larger social conversation. We’ve included pieces by both staff and non-staff, especially those we felt greatly exemplified what Luna Luna aims to be—magical, inclusive, literary, and inspiring.
We are beyond grateful to those of you who have written for us. You make us who we are.
We are also grateful to our loyal team, our dedicated readers (there are nearly 60 percent more of you this year from last!), supporters, and fellow small mag/press editors and contributors for making this community so magical.
Let’s get to it—in no particular order whatsoever:
Dear Jesse, by Andi Talarico
Mexican White Magic by Lucina Stone
Strange Beauty: The Female Body Spectacle in Jodorowsky's, Santa Sangre by Monique Quintana
A Poet I’ve Never Heard Of: Alfonsina Storni by Tiffany Sciacca
Seeking A Friend For The End Of The World by Tabitha Blankenbiller
Selections from Omotara James: 2 Poems by Karisma Price
What Being a Caulbearer Means to Me by Kailey Tedesco
A Simple Spell to Summon and Protect Your Personal Power by Minerva Siegel
3 Witchy Books to Jumpstart Your Magical Year by Trista Edwards
Wild Words: How to Get Published & Feel Good About Your Work by Lisa Marie Basile
How to Celebrate & Center the Holidays Around Death by Jacklyn Janeksela
In The Margins As A Sri Lankan Woman, Artist, and Educator by F. Asma Nazim-Starnes
Review of Christina Stoddard’s Chica/Mujer by Nadia Gerassimenko
How I Combat Shaming Comments With Sexy Self Portraits by Laura Delarato
How to be a Duplicitous Woman by Lydia A. Cyrus
Poetry by Jasmine L. Combs
Ten Movies About Witches That Will Terrify and Enchant You by Leza Cantoral
Sarah Chavez on Death Positivity, Grief, & Intersectional Feminism
Rituals to Fully Embrace the Samhain Season by Melissa Madara
Poetry by Dominique Christina
Review of 'The Mixology of Astrology': Cosmic Cocktail Recipes for Every Sign by Trista Edwards
Is It OK To Make Fun Of Instagram Poets? by Lisa Marie Basile
Poetry by Larissa Melo Pienkowski
Body Ritual: 12 Very Real Things I Learned About Chronic Illness by Lisa Marie Basile
Poetry by Cooper Wilhelm
Instagram Accounts By Goth Female and Non-binary POC by Monique Quintana
In Order To Write Poetry, Don't Treat It Like Poetry by Joanna C. Valente
Poetry by Mehrnoosh Torbatnejad
The Text is my Enemy: Erasing the Patriarchy with Isobel O’Hare by Caitlin Pryor
4 Dreamy Stones To Keep By Your Bedside by Trista Edwards
My Interview With the Vampire: A Xicana Reflects on Claudia Fashion by Monique Quintana
Poetry by Kyle Lopez
Poetry by Fox Frazier-Foley
4 Witchy Podcasts You Need In Your Life by Lisa Marie Basile
6 Transgender & Nonbinary Activists & Artists Changing the World by Joanna C. Valente
This Is How A Witch Is Born by Lisa Marie Basile
Sacred Simplicity: A Few More Easy Witchcraft Ideas by Erin Marie Hall
This Is Why I Don’t Call Myself A Woman Anymore by Joanna C. Valente
Where My Latina Protags At? by Amanda Toledo
Happy reading! From all of us here at Luna Luna, Happy New Years!
Gabriel Marin Remembers Ned Vizzini
BY GABRIEL MARIN of Consider The Source
Editor’s note: This piece contains references to suicide. We want you to know this before reading it.
Ned Vizzini was an incredible writer (read his books!) and mental health advocate whom I knew and adored. It’s painful to publish these words, but we hope this memorial by Gabriel Marin adds to the beautiful life of Ned Vizzini.
If you or a loved one are in need of support: The Lifeline provides 24/7, free and confidential support for people in distress, prevention and crisis resources for you or your loved ones, and best practices for professionals. Call: 1-800-273-8255. You are loved. — Lisa Marie Basile
—
Gabriel Marin and Ned Vizzini
This isn’t something I’m used to. I am certainly not a writer; I’m a musician. And I knew my friend Ned as a musician, too. He was the bass player in my first serious band.
More than that, I've never lost a friend who was close to me as Ned was. Losing him happened five years ago now, and I still find myself talking to him or wanting to tell him something—all the time.
All the time.
When someone leaves this world so suddenly, there is just so much that feels unfinished, unresolved. For example, we had made plans to hang when I came home from the tour I was on, just a week after he passed. I think about this all the time: One week more and we would have gotten to see each other. One more week.
He had reached out a few times when I was on tour, but our schedules didn’t connect, so we’d just text one another, promising to make plans to meet up. This is the way things go when you’re an adult, and busy—and yet, you never expect this.
I will never be able to shake the feeling that if we had talked, that something would somehow have been different, that somehow I could have done something.
The grief is complicated and contains many layers.
I still remember it all so clearly: Backstage in Raleigh, just five minutes until show time. I got a call from a friend telling me Ned was gone. He had lost his brave and longtime battle to mental illness.
I totally broke down, called my bass player John over to me, and cried until show time. Somehow, I still played. In the movie version of this reality, I would have played for him—and played amazingly and passionately. But no; I was just numb and lost and got through the set, hiding my emotions during the autograph signing and all the post-show banter.
And then it got very bleak. But I had to work straight through the pain to finish the tour. Even right after his funeral, I was back on the road. And so it felt incomplete, rushed.
It was all a haze.
My grief still exists, five years on, and I miss him tremendously. There are so many reasons why I miss him, and so much that I could say, but I want to focus on some of my earliest memories of Ned, and how he helped shape the person I am today. I want to show you how inspiring he was.
To start, Ned was a bit older then me when we met (which—let’s be honest—as a teenager, this was a big deal). He did all all the cool teenage things before I did: He was dating, he could drive (like a madman), he was writing popular articles for the New York Press, he played a band that was way better than my band. All of this as a teen.
In fact, we laughed for years about how during the first show I ever played, a photograph of him was taken as he stood smirking in the crowd, thinking how much we sucked. We all hated that smirking schmuck in that picture, but we knew he was right. And we loved him for it.
One year later, we played music together; he was our bassist! And somehow, with Ned, we had gone from sucking to being the cool band.
With him, we were able to start traveling around the tri-state area, playing our first shows. We had so much fun. I remember packing The Cove in New Jersey; at the end of a set, Ned would dive onto the drum set, and then our singer and drummer would just thrash and jump into it as I shredded. It was so youthful and such a rock thing.
I remember playing CBGB's with him and he wore a cardboard box with suspenders, (or a burlap onion sack) because thats how he did it onstage.
We all wore ridiculous shit while playing serious music, and thats how me and him balanced each other out. He loved great bass fills and thought all drum fills should be hooks. I remember driving with him while listening to Kyuss way way too loudly, and yelling at him to slow down.
Over time, my band had gotten very close. We learned that Ned had a side of him that always was dancing around within a personal pit of darkness, but we were young, crazy, and wildly emotional…so it all seemed normal. We were all so open with each other about things then. We didn’t consider the darkness then; things change as we grow.
After we stopped playing together, and after he became a best-selling novelist (who wrote incredible books that saved lives), he loved hearing about my band’s tour stories and musician life. He was so supportive and proud of our success.
Even when we were both younger, when I was nerding out with guitar scales (while he was doing way cooler things) he was supportive. He’d see how much I’d practice and would tell me I was doing the right thing for me—and that it would all be worth it. He ended up being right.
One of the first big Consider the Source shows (this is my current band) was at a book release of his. He actually hired us to play!
Even as I got more and more into instrumental music, Ned was the first person to make me really listen to lyrics—being the writer that he was. He defended pop music (and teenage things in general), with an ability to understand youth and teenage culture.
He wrote about teenagehood and all the weird things that happened during that time. I think that spoke so much to his compassion and ability to observe and relate and feel. I learned a lot about vulnerable writing and lyrics through him.
Five years on and I still cry a lot this day—and other many other days. There are a lot of late-night tour drives where I'll hear or think something and my first reaction is to want to tell Ned. My second reaction is: How is this real?
But it is.
Ned had it together better than all my other artist friends. He had a family, he was very successful, and he was stable—all the things he joked would never have or be.
As much as he loved hearing about the ridiculousness of life as a touring musician, he seemed truly happy that he didn’t walk down that path, that life had brought him to where he was.
But no matter where life took us, we never stopped being very close.
As I get to the end of this, I have no idea how to wrap it up—and that seems to be a metaphor for how this is. It just is.
There is nothing anyone can do now but think about him, and all he meant to us, and feel the hole that his not being here anymore has left in our hearts.
His loss will always be an unhealed wound that hurts. Dying because of mental illness is particularly hard. The stigma attached to it (which Ned worked hard as a writer to fight against) is difficult, just as hard as the feeling of things being unresolved.
The loss just tugs at you and tugs at you, and the only thing to do now is to remember him. Positively.
I love you Ned, and I always will. Inna Lillahi wa inna ilahi raji'un. This world was brighter with you in it.
—
NOTE: Please know that if you are experiencing depression, trauma, and pain—you are not alone and you deserve love and care.
The Lifeline provides 24/7, free and confidential support for people in distress, prevention and crisis resources for you or your loved ones, and best practices for professionals. CALL 1-800-273-8255. You may hear an automated voice first, but it’ll then connect you to a caring professional.
We love you.
A Romantic Playlist to Give You All the Feels Ever
Joanna C. Valente is a human who lives in Brooklyn, New York. They are the author of Sirs & Madams, The Gods Are Dead, Marys of the Sea, Sexting Ghosts, Xenos, No(body) (forthcoming, Madhouse Press, 2019), and is the editor of A Shadow Map: Writing by Survivors of Sexual Assault. They received their MFA in writing at Sarah Lawrence College. Joanna is the founder of Yes Poetry and the senior managing editor for Luna Luna Magazine. Some of their writing has appeared in The Rumpus, Them, Brooklyn Magazine, BUST, and elsewhere. Joanna also leads workshops at Brooklyn Poets. joannavalente.com / Twitter: @joannasaid / IG: joannacvalente / FB: joannacvalente