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Resurrecting Tay (Microsoft’s A.I. Twitter) in my father’s childhood home

Benadryl bites.

The whites of his eyes, half in the light.

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Priya Please Teach

TV killed the radio star, Netflix killed the TV star, and all that’s left for us is Twitter. That’s fine though, if all we have is @priya_ebooks.

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Crossroads

Vision as a miracle; roadkill as one too, maybe.

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My Viking

My Viking stood at six-foot-eight, barrel-chested and ginger haired. His breath always tasted of dark rich beer and his moustache tickled my lips. Sometimes when I was doing the crossword or watching people through my window he would come up … Read More

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‘Einstein, Margarita, and the Bomb’

On a damp Friday afternoon in November, traversing the broad, entirely empty main courtyard has the feeling of trespassing. Whitman’s Class of 1970 theater is the setting, this particular Friday afternoon, for a screening of ‘Einstein and Margarita,’ a so-called “media opera” composed by Iraida Iusupova and with libretto by Iusupova and the poet Vera Pavlova.

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Grace

Sig loves me. He’s sitting at the counter, eating a bagel right now, but I know he’s thinking about me. Today, like every Sunday, he sits all day here in this café where I work. A man across the coffee … Read More

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My Clouds

A writer finds comfort in movement.

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Too Soon

A review of Bon Iver’s 22, A Million.

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July

“By the eighth day words had begun to fail me. I thought in silent images. It was hot. We ate greedily, excessively, grilled meat on the bone, whole fish smiling up from the table, savory noodles prepared in cold sesame sauce with fresh cucumber. I sat around for hours after lunch feeling uncomfortably full.”

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Carrying the Fire

Every now and then there comes a book which is like an arrow shot into the heart of things because it has the power to redeem the fading, diffuse enterprise of bookselling and novel-gazing both, all the misbegotten hours spent … Read More

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Dear Editor,

While walking behind Nassau Hall, I saw a single piece of paper fall from a second-floor window above me. It started towards the ground slowly, and I watched as torrents of air swept the paper left and right and up … Read More

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Nothing Like Mom’s Cooking: Reflections from Professor Mommy’s Daughter

A reflection on the nourishment our mothers provide, both physical and emotional.

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