I Like to Watch | The Perfection
I believe that, when creating fiction-based mass entertainment that also addresses major sociopolitical issues, filmmakers need to pull back a step and tell a great story first with the over-the-top social commentary present but in the background.
Long Train Running: A Chicago Marathon Story | Chapter 3 — Weather or Not
The changes in weather and running routes made for a cornucopia of uncertain and enjoyable scenery. Each run was an adventure and it challenged me to stay loose and attentive and fleet on my feet and to mind my body so as not to overheat or underhydrate or freeze off my skinny fingers.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of June 16, 2019
I would take the innocence and ignorance of youth over the guilt and wisdom of old age.
Practicing Yoga in Your Mind
The Minutes of Our Last Meeting | How to Win a Presidential Election
You want women, boy, do we have women! Va-Va-Vavoom! Grab ‘em by the policy!
I Am Constantly Relearning How to Love my Body
Sometimes I take selfies and I post them on the internet. I wonder if people will think I’m vain, but then I think that liking my appearance enough to be vain is itself a kind of victory.
Running the Marathon Rather Than the Sprint
The problem with being a sprinter is the misconception that a marathon is just a series of sprints making up twenty-six-point-two miles. It doesn’t work that way. Sprinting uses up all the energy for short term gains and is unsustainable for twenty-six miles in any genuine fashion. A marathon requires planning, patience, and a sense of perseverance that eludes the sprinter.
![I Believe… [Gambling is Basically Buying Hope]](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/579fa3912994ca0eff850271/1560614056023-1K6O5CDBR9C3PIR911R0/ibelieve....jpg)
I Believe… [Gambling is Basically Buying Hope]
...that nothing is more desolate than an empty casino; nothing is more exciting than a full one. A whole room full of people buying bits of hope is a gas.
An Open Letter to a Late Stage Incel
I hear you, sitting in your room, typing furiously away about how lonely you are and how angry it makes you that, for some unexplained reason, women don’t find you companionable.
I mean, instead of looking hard at yourself and your behavior, your borderline social retardation, your obsessive compulsive mania, it’s just easier to find someone else to blame.
An Essay about James Joyce’s Leopold Bloom for Bloomsday
In honor of Bloomsday on June 16, I’ve dug out the paper I wrote in high school about Leopold Bloom, the main character in James Joyce’s Ulysses.
Long Train Running: A Chicago Marathon Story | Chapter 2 — The Cost of This
Bomb shelters, makeshift bunkers mean certain death. To survive, we must keep moving. Word of clean air has spread like gossip. It’s always just over that ridge or two clicks beyond that hill. And so we run. Speed, strength, and endurance are our only hope for survival. This is our marathon.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of June 9, 2019
If someone asks you to not yell at them and you respond by yelling, “I’M NOT YELLING AT YOU!” you’ve revealed your true intentions.
Sticky Valentine - An Erotic Fiction
Side one ended as the bed started to squeak. We stopped and snickered and shifted and slowed down. We were both super close even before we got started, but when we came we shuddered breathlessly next to each other like open barn doors in a heavy storm.
The Zen of Death Cleaning | Part 2
I stayed in the house by myself. I don’t mind being by myself for long periods of time. I didn’t wear makeup or a bra, since no one would see me. I could have walked outside, but there’s nowhere to walk to, no Walgreens or Starbucks or friendly neighborhood bar with local bands playing or an open mic night. I’m eating through the frozen food in the freezer, Stouffer’s, Trader Joe’s, etc. and drinking the booze, and thank goodness there’s some good booze.
The Minutes of Our Last Meeting – Stand-Up Club
These didn’t seem like jokes. More like a cry for help.
The Survival of Icarus
Kisses and grins, palms pressed, they raced through the forest with the glee of children. Naked and free, strong and alone, Icarus and Apollo at last could be together.
My Grandmother’s Death Presents a Journalistic Regret and a Literary Goldmine
When my grandmother, Joyce Himmel, died on May 11, it marked the end of a very long era. She was just two-and-a-half weeks shy of turning ninety-five. She wasn’t sick, really. A near perfect picture of health and resilience for the better part of a century, in the final minutes of the fourth quarter, her heart just wore out. It was quick and peaceful. Hard to complain about. She had a long and happy and thrilling life.
I could say more, so much more, but this isn’t about Nonny as much as its about her book club.
![I Believe… [Pride Should Be Justified]](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/579fa3912994ca0eff850271/1560030906186-J5TE4FB0LSXZ47PPZH0T/ibelieve....jpg)
I Believe… [Pride Should Be Justified]
…that one should demonstrate pride in something accomplished rather than mere existence. Thus, Gay Pride (because of the accomplishments over generations of stigma) and not Straight Pride (because what the fuck did we have to overcome except the lazy task of consistent acceptance?). I mean, I’m straight but I can’t say it’s necessarily anything to be proud of.
I Like to Watch | Dark Phoenix
Less than technological advances, I’d argue the primary reason superhero movies are the Big Gorilla in cinema today is about the casting.
No Chains, No Imprisonment
"Unless there are actual chains and bars, your imprisonment is in your mind."
How do you want to be defined? By one action? By some opinion that could evolve? By a mistake, regrettable only with hindsight? Or by the sum of your parts? Okay, do that for other people. Start the trend.