Okay I know I haven’t posted in awhile, but I do believe I’ve found a way to solve the problem of how to keep up with Tara’s ever-so-exciting life even in the absence of regular posting ( Read more... )

A few weeks ago, at the closing night cast party for Evita, I was told the longest and probably most impressive story of my young life. Several Absolut Citron & 7ups in, I’d already accosted most of those around me with my perpetual chant “tell me stories”. Most merely provided pitiable attempts, and Madelynn, tired and having exhausted her ( Read more... )

I’m at the Arts Lounge, writing (or trying to write) a paper lambasting Booker T. Washington, the newest bane of my existence. I’m enjoying puffing myself up with moral dignity and superiority and being Ever So Disgusted with his sacrifice of black collective pride in exchange for petty economic gains. Just the same it hurts a little to type it ( Read more... )

I saw the future once/ I was drunk/ In a phone boothThough it is not at all to my liking, I’ve somehow ended up with a preponderance of ‘early’ classes this semester. For any class in session before noon, my attendance rates are sporadic at best, and when I do go, my consciousness can be attributed entirely to an act of active Willpower, motivated ( Read more... )

I don’t like locker rooms. Partly because my skin bruises like over-ripe fruit, and my subconscious apparently has masochistic designs- I’m forever covered in scrapes and markings from various unfortunate encounters with my furniture and the world at large. I hate undressing laden with the firm conviction that strangers will assume I’m regularly ( Read more... )

I don’t really feel like posting anything of substance. But I would like to assure the world that I am, in fact, alive, and just as supremely inept/ ridiculous as ever.

( So here are a few things I've done recently )

I’ve never lived in a place where snow pants weren’t worn solely by disgruntled small children under the supervision of overprotective mothers, where “wear layers!” wasn’t a meaningless mantra popular only amongst balding, bingo-playing grandparents, where gloves and hats didn’t function primarily as a rainbowed array of oddly-designed fashion ( Read more... )

First off, I'm in a literary crisis. Wandering in bookstores today, I felt overwhelmed by the (grossly incorrect) feeling that I'd read all the books in the world that were really Worth Reading. I haven't read much in ages, mostly out of business and laziness, but also because I've exhausted the collections of Authors I Like and Authors I Ought ( Read more... )

Yesterday I was feeling apathetic, so I went to the grocery store and bought a quarter pound of balloons, spent an hour blowing them up, and then sat around for a bit, feeling blissfully surrounded with dozens of glowingly jubilant orbs ( Read more... )

I think I liked the Doors song “The Hitchhiker” loads better when I thought the lyrics went “writers on the storm”, instead of “riders on the storm”. C’mon, isn’t it way neater to imagine hordes of irate columnists, armed perhaps with quills and typewriter bombs, advancing towards some unknown foe? I hate it when life disillusions me ( Read more... )