Here's the evidence:
Because of a Dirty Rag: Age 6 Your eldest daughter, Morgan, bends over the circular glass dining table, Windex in hand. Her russet brown hair is kept tidy in a ponytail. Her big brown eyes stare back at her, reflected by the transparent table. She pumps the lever of the Windex and waits anxiously as... Continue Reading →
By October, life has grown slow, as if I woke up one day on my belly, reborn slug. I find myself struck with grief at random moments in the day; I’m suddenly incapacitated by the decision of what to eat for lunch. Standing still until I’m sobbing, in the middle of the kitchen, head hung,... Continue Reading →
Thursday: 2:55 PM “Alright, there. Now we have each others numbers. Feel free to text me any questions you have about the school, or classes, or whatever. But moving on to the gyms. One is used for P.E. class and the other is used for sports like volleyball and basketball. Oh, but I’m gonna stop... Continue Reading →
Bertolt Brecht once said that “[t]heatre consists in this: in making live representations of reported or invented happenings between human beings and doing so with a view to entertain” (“A Short Organum for the Theatre” 180). Brecht died August 14, 1956, but his words still remain largely relevant today (Encyclopedia Britannica). At the time of... Continue Reading →
“You did it! I saw you push it!” My neighbor hissed at me. I was accused of pushing over her pink bicycle, which I had no recollection of doing. Perhaps her shrill voice had caused me to black out and in that state I had spitefully knocked over her bike, but I don’t believe I... Continue Reading →
It was a wet morning and the ground seemed to sweat towards the city’s drains. I walked, shoulders tensed, as the rain dripped down my coat and off the brim of my hat. I kept a swift pace as I was not one to dilly dally while vulnerable to the sky’s droplets. I then took... Continue Reading →
PART I While watching Bo Burnham’s comedy special, Make Happy, you first encounter the question: “Are you happy?” Amidst the melancholy of his piano Bo asks you “on a scale from one to zero, are you happy?” You never really thought about it. Am I happy? Do I need to know now? But because you’re... Continue Reading →
Connor Writes 