After one too many flings into the pond, rainy nights left outside, and one malicious dirt-biking incident involving my older cousin Adam, Dort looked like your typical horror movie puppet.
But that Saturday, while I was still in bed, I got another call from my mom. I knew from her first word the reason she was calling. Very early that morning, my grandfather had died in his sleep. I wept.
By mid morning, the classroom was really heating up. I turned on every available fan, shut off the the overhead lights, and opened the windows.
You identify them by
their burnt fingertips.
Lorde made a name for herself taking down pop culture, but what would she do now that the world knew her name? Now that she was pop culture?
Dear Anxiety,
It’s not me. It’s definitely you.
Two weeks ago, in the lead-up to a concert, I got to read poetry off a video screen that was larger than the end zone of a football field.
Genleevia is a Level 97 Warrior. She rides proudly atop a golden gryphon and wields her morning star against foes like the Wind-Worker and Vice the Shadow Wyrm.
I was satisfied in my decision. There was thrill in riding without a ticket. And I was convinced that what I was doing was right. I was in line with the spirit of the law, even if the law had no spirit.
“Are you happy with how things shook out?” he asked me.
