Pseudopod 142: Camp

By Jeremy C. Shipp Read by George Hrab My muscles tighten. My teeth clench. My irritable bowel is seriously pissed off. I’m no good at sitting. “Hold it together,” my dad tells me. Not physically here, of course, but why would that stop him? Hold it together—that’s easy for him to say. He’s made of steel bars and rivets and bolts. Me, I’m held together with Elmer’s glue and pushpins and chewing gum. Memories vibrate. They fall and crack open. Listen Here