Roommate 1: So the coconut cost $1.50?
Roommate 2: Yeah, and it’s like a dinner for two. Man, that’s what I’d eat if I were a hobo. [Pause] A hobo with power tools.
Overheard in Scully
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Letter From The Editor
Dear friends, Much of life is going from here to there, and much of it is going back to here. From the bed to the world and back to the bed. From the hometown to the college town to the Big City, back to the hometown maybe, to start the cycle anew. From the…
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Bogotá
Lloras como niña empedernida: La lágrima rasga a ratos la cortina Y me miras, afligida, como si la culpa fuera mía. Me dices, a bocinazos, Que los carros te atraviesan la cintura, Y transitan tu pecho con su chafa montura Para sentarse a cuchichear. Si refundo tu voz entre el largo suspiro …
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Night Atlas
“If you took the highway and hiked the trail and camped out three days three times over very carefully it took a long time and finally it would be light, and then you could go to sleep, if you were in a place where you could sleep in the daylight.”
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Rave Inside the Machine
On the ironies of the corporate aesthetic embodied by DJ John Summit’s CTRL ESCAPE, raving inside the machine.
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Noble Motives, a Greek Tragedy
Characters WATCHMAN CHORUS of Naxian Elders AGATHON, candidate for Keeper of the Hearth EURYKLES, Steward CASSANDRA, scribe of the Naxian scroll FURIES ATHENA Scene: The island-city of Naxos, before the Hall of Naxos. The WATCHMAN is on the roof. WATCHMAN Deathless gods, with bloody tears I plead: grant respite from my plight, from Naxos’s roof,…
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Go Wonder at the Riders in Isatch Canyon
On a familiar battle between good and evil in Mark Z. Danielewski’s Tom’s Crossing, and its unfamiliar resistance to ambiguity and the moral greyspace.
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Angel Days
“We were never close while he was alive. That’s why I’m putting in all this effort now, to make up for all my years of being a bad son.”
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Called Olympic
You created me with that thrashing tongue of garbled half-waves on smooth sound stones, aged by thousands of caressing palms looking to skip on Puget’s icy surface. You made my patronymic the peninsula, home to faces of fathers upon fathers— their hands in the murk which I track over your face. Baptized by…
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A WET HOT FOOD FOR THOUGHT AMERICAN SUMMER: Full Design
Pick up a copy around campus, or view the full design here!
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Letter From The Editor
Dear friends, We can be so timid with language when we speak. We worry about when to and not to use it, worry if we’re using it right, worry we’re using too many words to say something, worry what we’re saying isn’t coming across in the words we’re using. Each sentiment or feeling or…