Category: Arts

Your Mother

Let me tell you about your mother. For one thing, she is really quite hard to love.

by on

Vignettes from the Hinterlands

On the seventieth anniversary of Ataturk’s death I was in the mountains between Van and Diyarbakir with a baby on my lap and her three year old brother stretched out on the seat behind me while their mother tried to sleep, the silk scarf slipping from her hair.

by on

Untitled

At 10:16 yesterday morning, I received an e-mail from my mother. The message was three sentences long, and only the first four words were in English: Bác Hai is dying.

by on

One-Minute Devotions

“I wondered what or who—a simple puzzle, a stakeless one, but one that, in context, made my expectation of strangeness a mystery lived.”

by on

“fill all fruit with ripeness to the core”

A Poem.

by on

The Yay

Emma and Dani were sprawled out on the bed in Dani’s room snorting cocaine with a one hundred dollar bill and a small mirror that had once belonged to Dani’s pink jewelry box. The kind with the ballerina that you had to wind; when the box opened, the ballerina would twirl around and around to The Russian Dance from The Nutcracker. Bones protruded from Dani’s hip through her translucent skin, and her gaunt face sagged. Her piercing blue eyes were dulled by thick black eyeliner, and the heavy bronzing makeup coating her face obscured her wan teenage skin. Dani took a big hit and laid back on her simple white bed, sniffling loudly and pawing at her nose.

by on

Come Inside

Offstage at the Vagina Monologues

by on

Milan Kundera: Writer without a Country

A classic from the Nassau Weekly archive

by on

Dyad: Semi-automatic Writing

1 I never knew if the air opened above our heads or scattered from the sunshine of a thousand bloody gods + feet + lambskin gloves the size of fish to come of streams + lakes + faucets in the … Read More

by on

Slam Dunk

Lily Gellman, a freshman, is one of fifty students who auditioned for Ellipses, Princeton’s slam poetry team, this fall. Gellman, who became involved in spoken word during her senior year of high school, hoped to continue to hone her passion for spoken word at Princeton and was excited to discover a slam team on campus.

by on

Arcosanti

Three years ago, I stared up at the stars in the northern Arizona desert. I felt the smooth concrete of stargazing steps against my back.

by on

Introducing William Brown

Sweet and scum-kneed childhood, like shy adolescence and even bickery elder-age, touts certain requisite activities. When one is about eight, it’s morally reprehensible not to spend a portionable amount of wet afternoons in rubber boots kicking up mud puddles. Skipping … Read More

by on