Chloe Riley is a journalist, skeptic, and bullshit fighter, depending on the day. She writes about death and old magazines in a blog called Pimp to the Mouthbreathers and she’s also written for The Guardian, the Chicago Reader and Huffington Post. She writes about criminal justice, politics, and theater, and she eats oatmeal even though it deeply pains her to do so.
1. The Antidepressants Early into loving uhhhh, fuck him, I’m just going to call him The Unlovable Man, he says Why are you so sad today? — you’ve got me and everything we need right now. How can I tell him that when he is a polite little spoon curled up beside me that I am thinking I want my absence more than I want his presence? We curl our hands together and I think of his body an anchor, […]
During my last few years of undergrad, I worked as a supervisor at a Chicago Tribune distribution warehouse in the southwest suburbs. The job was seven nights a week, in the middle of the night. It was an exhausting routine. Thankfully, I worked with some fun and interesting people, which brought a touch of joy and humor to the nightly grind. The nature of the job had us standing at workstations for at least a few hours a night as […]
I had a framed photo hanging prominently in the entrance of my apartment. Most people recognized that the photo was taken in the Oval Office of the White House. They also recognized the two old, white, jovial men flanking the black man in the middle as George Bush Sr. and Ronald Reagan. But then, “Is that…” They took a closer look at the man in the middle, “Is that your dad?!” My dad wore many hats: politician, social justice warrior, social […]
When I was a kid, me and my two cousins were way into martial arts. My favorite martial artist was Jean-Claude Van Damme and his signature move was the flying roundhouse. I practiced this to no end, and eventually got pretty good at it. The summer before 7th grade, I moved to Pilsen and started a new school. I was one of only three black kids at this school. I stood out like a sore thumb. My class contained the […]
It was simply unacceptable for Anne to ramble around in her husband’s girlfriend’s trunk any longer, we decided. It had taken almost six years to get her remains, and we didn’t want Anne to linger in indignity for another second. So we met the girlfriend one Saturday afternoon to collect the urn and ashes from her Chevy Malibu. After repeatedly calling and texting to track her down, our persistence led us to the dry cleaners next to the gas station […]
I wrote this piece after the election, but I don’t want to talk about politics. We’ve had enough of that this week. Just this morning I was told by a man on Facebook that I was “extremely arrogant” for expressing my political views. So I’m not even going to mention the election, or even tell you who I voted for. It will have to remain a yuuuuge mystery. I promise this piece will be absolutely unbiased toward any candidate or […]
“Guilt” was read as part of Miss Spoken’s March 2017 show. The theme was Sibling Rivalry, and you can listen to the live show here. This story appears at 51:23. Jordan was born the year I first kissed a girl. (I was six and my first love told me kissing was just for boy-girl couples, after I’d planted my lips firmly on hers – my first vivid lesson in consent.) Jordan’s mother was not my mother and his father, gone before […]
I had just started that job three weeks ago. I thought it was going to change my life. Everything was still new and fresh and bright and shiny. This was my first job with my own office! Now granted, the walls didn’t quite reach the ceiling… but it was still my own office. And we could pretty much yell over that wall and talk to each other without getting up… but it was still my own office. It was April […]
