It’s 2022, man. I’m forty now. Nothing has turned out like I imagined and everything has been somehow both worse and more wonderful than I ever could have known.
Thank you for being a curmudgeonly writer and reader, like me. Thank you for making the Bureau into a writhing, pulsing, knock-your-socks-off online literary magazine.
A special congratulations to our nominees this year. IT WAS REALLY FREAKING HARD TO CHOOSE WHICH PIECES TO PUT FORTH, but I think you’ll find some gems here.
Y’all keep complaining. (Submissions open again on Monday.) xo, LJ