On my seventh birthday, my aunt and uncle gave me a copy of Grimm’s Fairy Tales. It was bound in bottle-green leather and embossed with gold. It would have been a crime to let a toothsome book like that go un-devoured, so I read it straight through. From this book, I took three terribly valuable…… Continue reading Beauty and the Feast
I came across this list poem in an old notebook this week – well, only the first part can really claim to be a poem, the rest is more of a hum – it was called Bucket List, but it isn’t a proper bucket list either. Entirely devoid of such entries as, “Go to Coachella,”…… Continue reading A Belletristic Bucket List
When I discovered Hater, it was love at first sight. According to Tech Insider, Brendan Alper developed the dating app based on the idea that people form stronger attachments based on mutual dislikes than on common interests. This concept is explored in Jennifer Bosson’s 2006 study, “Interpersonal chemistry through negativity: Bonding by sharing negative attitudes…… Continue reading The Joy of Hate
“Spring is the time of plans and projects.” ― Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina It's Spring break and I'm off to other adventures - look for another blog post in a couple of weeks!
If there were an awards system for people who have behaved like grown-ass adults during the past week, I would get the booby prize. That’s how it came to be Saturday, and I’ve accomplished zero percent of the things I meant to get done this week.However, I also received this apt little adulting aid that…… Continue reading Beware the Baobabs
The minutiae of my preparations for breakfast are like a spell on which my mood, and consequently the course of the day, depends entirely. I confess it seems ridiculous to become distraught at the prospect of using a different spoon than usual; I propose, however, that it is not absurd. A priest, I expect, would…… Continue reading On Lunacy and Liturgy
I. Sunday Abandoned by fickle picnickers, a raspberry contemplates self- slaughter II. White string in a brown bag marked “String Too Short To Use” waits, and is comforted by paradox III. Brassy button, aloft, cries “Ah! Am I to blame for your plenteous circumference? Alas!” IV. Furtive ghost, the unmailed letter – Its baleful yellowing…… Continue reading Cinq Cinquain(ish)