Cutting open a Bisquick bag will always smell of thin Duke University t-shirts, thoughtful eyebrows, and hour-long explanations of the electoral college.
These works are about as subtle as a trainwreck, but they are surprisingly fun, despite their depressingly urgent call to take environmental responsibility.
Grasp, carry, touch, step, tug, swallow.
Of all the regressive, fear-mongering, cynical, hateful, and unethical positions to which the Republican party has hitched its wagon, the vilification of refugees and immigrants is among the most loathsome.
There are also in-game currencies and prizes, but the real celebration is that “Chicken Dinner,” which, I cannot stress enough, bears no resemblance to any kind of meal.
We’re used to standing apart from the places we occupy, fillers and subduers of the earth that we are.
Everyone is drunk all the time and no one has valid ID.
To believe in something other than what is materially in front of you is awkward. It likely means that what you expect tomorrow is impossible today.
But one day at work, I was proofing an email and realized I sounded really excited about a new art exhibition. Too excited.
Though I’ve never defined myself by a job title, I came to the realization that without my previous one, I had little to define myself with at all.