In ancient times, there was a famous chef named Pao Ding, who was an expert at carving up cows. In modern times, there was a man who was an expert at sizing them up—my father. In Pao Ding’s eyes, cows were nothing but bones and edible flesh. That’s what they were in my father’s eyes, too. Pao Ding’s vision was as sharp as a knife; my father’s was as sharp as a knife and as accurate as a scale. What I mean to say is: if you were to lead a live cow up to my father, he’d take two turns around it, three at most, occasionally sticking his hand up under the animal’s foreleg—just for show—and confidently report its gross weight and the quantity of meat on its bones, always to within a kilo of what might register on the digital scale used in England’s largest cattle slaughterhouse.
Recommended Reading: “Bull” by Mo Yan, the latest winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature.
He watched Joshua smoke the cigarette to the filter, watched him drop then grind the butt into the sidewalk with the bright toe of a brown leather boot. When the doors opened and the boots shuffled through, Mark turned away. He tried to arrange his expression into something approaching happy surprise, and, when he turned back, Joshua was on him.

The hug lasted too long, past uncomfortable, then past that, until, gently, he pushed Joshua away, and they stood, studying each other.
Recommended Reading: “Nudists” by David James Poissant.
He says, ‘I moved to this shitass city to become a rock star. Instead I’m an office drone and, increasingly, a raving Communist, only the only times I have time to rave I’m too drunk or too sleepy and then the people who really need raving at aren’t around, or they are but they’re holding my leash. Sometimes when I can’t sleep I search Craigslist for sublets in Canadian cities. Square footage alone has brought me to the verge of weeping joy.’ This is the longest monologue he’s ever taken in her company. She throws her arms around his wide neck, tilts her pelvis into his hip. ‘I want a new guitar,’ he says. ‘Acoustic.’
“Gregory’s Year” by Gospel of Anarchy author Justin Taylor