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Byline: Jared Garland

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Lost

Do love like jobs, that’s what I say.

by Jared Garland on February 7, 2015February 8, 2015

Getting Lucky

It’s 5:37 a.m. and I’m straggling through the slums in neon orange short-shorts I reserve for nights like these, nights like last night, along with the first shirt I saw on the ground which I couldn’t really see in the dark of his room but it’s large and now the sunrise has revealed it to be a tee shirt from some leadership conference or some shit and I think This is ironic because I was totally leading last night if you know what I mean and then I’m like is that even irony or am I just awesome?

by Jared Garland on November 14, 2013November 16, 2013

Jared Garland

Call me Moses Goldstein. You won’t be wrong. Say it and I’ll turn around, look back at you out of the corner of my eye, smile a bit and raise an eyebrow at you coyly, because I’m a coy guy, and—of course—that is my name.

by Jared Garland on October 3, 2013October 4, 2013

The Gay Diaspora

It’s that time of year again when the staircases are rainbowed up, the walk from my dorm to Frist smells like lilacs, and supposedly, hidden somewhere in the nooks of Princeton campus, are over 1,000 gay alumni ready to party.

by Jared Garland on April 25, 2013September 7, 2013

A Day in This Life

Beep Beep. Sun’s up 9:32. Ugh. Going to hit snooze button—where is snooze button? Let’s just palm entire alarm clock and see what happens. Beeeeeep. 9:41. Was that really nine minutes?

by Jared Garland on March 9, 2013March 22, 2013

The Band

Just a few nights ago, I was eating at Whitman when the band came to play during dinner. Their entrance was met with the usual palpable dread. Aside from a few clapping friends, the reaction of the dining hall was mostly a muffled groan, rolling eyes and petulant, commiserative stares at nearby friends.

by Jared Garland on February 23, 2013March 22, 2013

Annabelle, By the Pool

Before, she had felt as though of the night as a separate space—a sealed pocket of her life—but now she was reminded that everything that existed around the pool at daytime still stood by at night: the black hardtop of the basketball court, a racquetball wall, and the town Rec Center itself, a building which tomorrow would reveal to be little more than a grey dome without windows.

by Jared Garland on December 6, 2012March 22, 2013

Palmer House

“Then I linger on the porch in silence until my soda is gone.”

by Jared Garland on November 28, 2012March 22, 2013

Three and One

A story.

by Jared Garland on November 21, 2012March 22, 2013

Writing Women

(A male author) on the gender trouble of imaginative literature.

by Jared Garland on November 7, 2012March 22, 2013

Murray-Dodge is Nothing

Murray-Dodge has substance and is not empty.

by Jared Garland on October 12, 2012March 22, 2013


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