She leans back and the light from outside the window flashes on her exposed teeth, framed by slightly parted lips. The vintage gramophone on her nightstand has been trumpeting the orchestral "Non, je ne regretted rein," over and over for the past hour. She doesn't tire of it, and moves the needle to play it … Continue reading Amélie
A story of a true delinquent Today is street sweeping day on my beautiful city block of Chicago, and this side of the road is closed off until 2 pm. Well it's 1:39 and it is my ultimate pleasure to inform you that I'm parking here, on this illegal side of the road, because this … Continue reading Crime and Street Sweeping: A Brief Memoir
A story about a nice pear, who deals with racism. As told to my friend, who, incidentally, is 22. once upon a time, there was a pear named Miguel he was sad, as he was a different color than most pears, being blue he wasn't sad because he was blue, but nonetheless he found it … Continue reading Once Upon a Pear
Something about the beach? Nah, the sun came out, that's what brought me out of my head. Chicago's winter was long long long. Not much of Spring, but there really never is. A day or two at most of 60 degree weather, and then the sun comes out in all its heated glory and bakes … Continue reading Warmer and Warmer
Sitting in Finance class. What is a desolate college student to do? Notes have been taken, seat buddies have been conversed with, and the professor is telling a story about the Dow Jones. INSPIRATION! Or rather, a wonderful idea stolen from my friend, Ella. It consists of a little man walking among the blue notebook lines, … Continue reading Taking Notes? Ha.
The date was April 18th, 2009. The gloom was ominous. Kidding. I don't actually know what the date was. But it was sometime in April of my senior year of high school. Since there was barely any funding for trips of any kind in my school, for our senior trip they decided to take us to … Continue reading The Race
I can feel the air turning to ice as it leaves my mouth. I'm standing under the heating lamps that line the subway, an island of warmth for waiting commuters. An old Asian man stands to my right, so old. So old that his wrinkles have wrinkles, that he neck seems to sway with the … Continue reading Baby, it’s Cold Outside