Jen Parkhill “JP”
Bio
Jen Parkhill “JP”, a first generation Cuban-American artist and proud member of the LGBTQIA+ community. Cat dad, writer, filmmaker, actor, friend, and graduate of the Tisch School of the Arts, NYU.
Hurling through time.
@jenparkhill
Achievements (9)
Stories (32/0)
Fiberglass.
I was shopping for a new mattress. I read all these reviews on the ones that come in a box and puff up when the air hits them. There was this one with a zipper. Don’t open the zipper, they said. They don’t tell you there’s fiberglass inside. It explodes into the air and gets in all your things, your hair, your clothes, your lungs. And I thought. Love. It’s like that. You take a lover to bed and one day you’ve opened that zipper and those tiny shards are everywhere. Memory. Can’t be put back. Not even time can cleanse it. You feel them in your lungs when you take a deep breath after exercise, a fuck. Long after the love bed is gone and way back you regret having ignored the tag that said don’t unzip but you’re curious and fuck it, there’s a zipper on the damn thing. What for if not to open.
By Jen Parkhill “JP”2 years ago in Pride
- Runner-Up in Dads Are No Joke Challenge
Surrender Convention and Get Down on the FloorRunner-Up in Dads Are No Joke Challenge
“We have to get on the floor.” I said, “When this song comes on, we have to stop what we’re doing and get on the floor.” It was Funkadelic’s Maggot Brain. I can’t listen to it standing up. I have to lay down and let the floor hold all of my body. I laid down on the rug.
By Jen Parkhill “JP”2 years ago in Families
Salty Lung
I’m four and a half years old. I hold up 4 pudgy fingers to tell you so. I make sure to add the half. With voice. The half is important. It means I’m gaining on 5. It means I’ll be a sister soon. It means those 4 and 1/2 years will always be between myself and my brother. It means I’ll be his elder. It means I’ve been preparing to show him a world I’ve already scoped.
By Jen Parkhill “JP”2 years ago in Families
- Runner-Up in From Across the Room Challenge
- Winner of True Colors Challenge
YellowWinner of True Colors Challenge
Curls I cut from my brother’s baby head when I am five and jealous. The light that hits a river bank in Yosemite when I am seven and my family is still a family. The carriage my father pulls behind his bike where my brother and I nap with our helmets slapping together when we hit a bump. The inside of a peach. The sickly stage of a bruise. The beads I admire as they swing from my friends neck. I’d like to own a mala like that, I think, as I climb onto the back of the borrowed motorcycle, burning the inside of my calf on the exhaust. Later another friend will tell me to pee on it to relieve the burn. Later, a monkey will watch me do this, like even he knows—only for jellyfish. After that my lover and me, we howl as we ride a motorcycle over the dirt road along a cliff, feeling that no moment has ever been more adventurous or romantic. We hit a stone and I fly through the air laughing. I bloody my knees. It leaves a scar. Later when I loose him it will hurt worse but leave no mark on my skin.
By Jen Parkhill “JP”3 years ago in Poets