Will Montei

Will Montei

Will Montei ('13) graduated with a major in writing and a minor in philosophy. He currently lives in Seattle, taking full advantage of the abundant local coffee and surrounding mountain hikes. He is an avid daydreamer, an old soul, and a creative potty mouth.
Will Montei

Latest posts by Will Montei (see all)

We Wanted the Entire World

We Wanted the Entire World

Someone would pass a six-pack of cold root beer up and all of us would lounge in a circle and talk about nothing, and it felt like everything.

Wrinkles

Wrinkles

I was once told the way that my eyebrows slope down symbolizes wisdom, but it looks like sadness, which might be the same thing.

The Men I’ve Loved

The Men I’ve Loved

We would say it without worrying about whether or not it came off to anyone within earshot as romantic. As you say it to your family, so we said it to each other.

Smart

Smart

Outward Bound, Super Camp, tutors, counsellors, mentors—my parents spared no expense in trying to figure out my 2.33 cumulative high school GPA. Nothing worked.

Places I’ll Never Know

Places I’ll Never Know

Lights shine along Seattle’s hills, illuminating all the homes where everyone no one knows eats, sleeps, listens, and loves.

Bon Iver’s “22, A Million,” A Review

Bon Iver’s “22, A Million,” A Review

Maybe it’s the state of my own fractured life that allows me to listen past the fractures in the composition of Bon Iver’s latest offering, 22, A Million, to see the transcendence hidden inside.

Listener

Listener

Because I am, and “I AM,” and love is, and there must be more love out there—“the greatest of these.” For these reasons, I follow in the long tradition of abiding with God in silence.

Fiercely

Fiercely

Its branches bloomed with little white, fuzzy pearls that I thought were baby rabbits being born.

Above and Below

Above and Below

My mom refers to Cedar as a “thin place.” She means that whatever barrier keeps humans at a distance from the Spirit is measurably smaller.

Plain

Plain

I was not just leaving behind a friend, but someone who loves the parts of me I don’t. Sometimes adulthood just feels like a dawn of frequent partings.

The Hermione to My Ron

The Hermione to My Ron

I don’t like planning anything. Plans may have good intentions, but they always end up a little too strict. Like Professor McGonagall.

Unwilling

Unwilling

My sister owned a copy of Hanson’s first album, “Middle of Nowhere,” that I loved to steal, along with her cream-colored boom box, and play on repeat while I circled the garage in rollerblades and sang along to words I didn’t really understand.

Youth in a Sound

Youth in a Sound

One of the pleasures of listening to a new band is creating an image of who the singer is. What do they look like? What kind of life do they live when they’re not playing?

Imponderable

Imponderable

In the tops of the leafless bushes that stood shoulder height along the path, a sea of spider webs swayed in the soft wind—hundreds and hundreds of webs, perfectly spun and glistening with dew in the morning light.

Good Morning, It’s Christmas

Good Morning, It’s Christmas

This year I’ll sleep in a guest room, maybe on an air mattress. It will be a normal night of sleep. I won’t be waiting for the rumble of the Polar Express, watching for its headlight to flood the walls of my room in a gold glow.

Dear One

Dear One

I am speaking of all my relationships, but I’m mostly speaking of love. It’s when I share something with someone I hope to love, or do love, that I’m left wondering if it has always been so dark here.

To Know and Be Known

To Know and Be Known

I first had sex when I was eighteen years old. It was very unromantic. We had to be quiet and careful because her parents were rustling around in the downstairs kitchen.

The End of Solitude

The End of Solitude

Strange how things happen. You can put all your effort into living well only to find that you were living just fine the whole time.

On Emma Watson and Self Love

On Emma Watson and Self Love

Sometimes I Google search Emma Watson, just to, you know, stay in touch. She’s this contemplative introvert who values privacy, thrust into a world of celebrity.

Doubt

Doubt

For the first time in my life, I walk out of a church service, driving in silence back to my parent’s apartment. The next day, when I get home from work, I collapse wordlessly in my mom’s arms and sob into her shoulder.

God the Hero, God the Villain

God the Hero, God the Villain

I can’t stand Chuck,” he told me, “I don’t even like being in the same room as him. I’ve tried being nice, but I find everything about him…repugnant. It’s been a struggle for me. I try to love everyone. He makes it hard to love him.”

Love Like Grief

Love Like Grief

I think in each of us there’s a deep well with love like water at the bottom, but if only the crawl down wasn’t so dark and our hands could carry more.

sex

sex

Take a breast. Its nipple is sore from just feeding the baby—who gummed it like she was trying to rip it off—now slumped against the belly, a limp part of a limp, tired body.

Ketchup and Blood Part Three

Ketchup and Blood Part Three

Of course, when you’re actually Ryan “Hey Girl” Gosling, and you’ve got Nicholas “I’ve Never Written Two Different Stories” Sparks writing your script, you have that luxury.

Ketchup and Blood Part Two

Ketchup and Blood Part Two

When the professor starts class, I finally take a breath again. I’m free. No pressure. All I’ve got to do is sit here and not fart.

Naked

At the end of the day I’m lying in bed feeling poor and stressed because I somehow wasted all day not feeling correctly. I was too sad, or too lonely, or too indifferent.