#Olivia Muenz

[atinylittlepain]

Olivia Muenz, I Feel Fine

[likeagrapefruit]

[iphoneartzy]

But It’s Not Like That

Eating at American Kitchen Cafe in Joshua Tree 2016. Iphone6s iColorama app But it’s not like that. Let me try to explain. Let me give you a real out. Have you ever punctured something tiptop. Have you ever forgotten. Your shoes. Have you ever spun around real fast and become. A water balloon. Are you following all of this. — Olivia Muenz from poem But Not (Excerpt) Rusty Chains Die…

[bostonpoetryslam]

my bed is a white hole and if I was any good at this I would be like alice in wonderland but I’m not I’m alive in unwonderland that’s how bad I am at this the sheets could be an entire landscape and my breath a big ocean and in one hour I could fall down a big hole and emerge all big and also all small and I could see people and they’d see me back and we’d have a wonderful time but that is not what I’m doing today today I am sitting here waiting to die

Olivia Muenz, “diary of an illness,” published in Peach Mag

[ndrmag]

Nonfiction Editor Olivia Muenz on what she’s looking for in 2020-21

I’m looking for work that really pushes the boundary of the essay. I’m especially interested in formal experimentation—really as weird or as unexpected as it can get—as long as it has a deep relationship to its content. 

In terms of content, as a disabled writer, I’m always hoping to publish more work on disability and illness. I also love humor, pop culture, and the internet—anything that engages with language playfully. 

Recently, I’ve enjoyed reading T Fleischmann’s Time is the Thing a Body Moves Through, Lisa Olstein’s Pain Studies, Esmé Weijun Wang’s The Collected Schizophrenias, Anne Boyer’s The Undying, and Diane Khoi Nguyen’s Ghost Of (which, yes, is poetry, but it’s too good to not include).

[sydneytulley]

Seriously cannot stop listening to this cover. Her voice is very nice. 

Someone come sing along with me, and teach me how to play my guitar and make me not feel weird singing in front of you. Ok.

[atinylittlepain]

Olivia Muenz, I Feel Fine

[likeagrapefruit]

Couch Potato, Olivia Muenz

[likeagrapefruit]

sickbody sickheart sickbody sickheart sickbody sickheart sickbody sickheart sickbody sickheart

[likeagrapefruit]

After another big nothing time by Olivia Muenz

[ndrmag]

Digital Media Editor Olivia Muenz *Wishlist*

I’m looking for both the broad and specific, which is an annoying way to say I want all forms of media that engage with language in a surprising way. There should be a deep relationship between form and content. I’m talkin’ Joseph Cornell boxes made digital. I’m talkin’ Laurie Anderson’s Heart of a Dog. I’m talkin’ Martha Rosler’s ‘Semiotics of the Kitchen’. I’m talkin’ William Kentridge’s anything. I’m talkin’ Jonathan Talbat collages. Just keep us talkin’. I would love to publish more work by disabled authors in general, and would especially love to publish work about health/disability/etc.

[ndrmag]

Staff Interview with Olivia Muenz, Interviews and Reviews Editor

Olivia Muenz is a first-year MFA candidate in creative writing at LSU. She earned her B.A. from NYU’s Gallatin School of Individualized Study, where she studied music, philosophy, and creative writing. She lives in Baton Rouge with her dumb cat, Toot, and a bunch of trash that moonlights as belongings.

1. Why do you write?

Sometimes thinking becomes too exhausting, so I’ll make paper suffer along with me.

2. Best-case scenario: what are you doing in ten years?

Absolutely nothing, in Norway.

3. What have you been reading lately?

Mainly backs of soup cans; those Dr. Bronner soap bottles if I have an especially long shower; insurance claim denial letters; and, if I’m feeling crazy: disability memoirs, Karl Ove Knausgaard’s endless stream of consciousness, found poetry, poems that make text object, and probably The Bell Jar again.

4. What makes you insufferable?

I think my responses here reveal that better than any explanation.

5. What are your hopes for this year’s edition of NDR?

To publish voices that would otherwise go unheard and to publish work that makes you want to pace around your house.