Ode to Subway
Subway is a communion of scattered purposes.
Legacy America
I remember thinking, with all the considerable certainty that a fifteen-year-old can muster, that if this doesn’t change us, nothing will.
“Top of the Morning” and Other Fake Goodbyes
Which emails and conversations am I signing off “top of the morning” and which are a definitive “see ya never, loser”?
Burnout Dreams
I struggle to find contentment and seek new adventures almost compulsively.
Sister Vacations
It felt like we had pulled one over on the natural order of things.
Theater of the Absurd
There truly is a place in the human soul for interminable stories.
Back to the Mountain
That’s how I felt, at 10 p.m. on a Sunday night, in a town that you may never visit—with my stethoscope around my neck, gloves on my hands, and ski boots on my feet.
Native Plants Are My Love Language
I’ve found that loving myself means letting myself love and delight in the things around me.
Tipping the Scales
Death, in our lived experience, is horrifyingly final.
Kilted Dance Party
Of all our show weekend traditions, that one ten minute spurt was definitely my favorite.
