Category: Arts

Our Burger King

We would meet in front of the Burger King in Piccadilly Circus to go to West End nightclubs during August of 2004, me and two Spanish sisters from my old residence hall who shared a love of dancing and cheap drinks.

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Mapping Nowhere

There were cities that stood boulder-like in the distance There were cities that I loved There were cities where kites could ease greedily among the buildings There were cities in which no honest man could find a life to suit … Read More

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June 15, 1936

Billy stands in the stern, chin tilted upward and twenty-gauge at his feet, dipping that pole into the night water like a gondolier and pulling us along in rhythm. My arm muscles are getting sore as I steady the sides so that the boat doesn’t tip us over into the swamp like it did last week; my legs stretch out and brace the gunwales, my feet lie in the caked mud that crumbles off Billy’s boots.

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Erotomania and Castration Anxiety in USG President M. Margolin

Although I will perhaps be labeled as crude and sensational, I should like to turn the light of psychoanalysis on Mr. M. Margolin, the president of the Undergraduate Student Government.

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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.

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21 Club

Editor’s Note: A 21 Club member from the distant past offered the Nass a brief glimpse into their ritual.

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Healthy

First thing I do when I come home from work every evening is get on the old University cast-off PC and see how my symptoms are doing; listen to my body. I got a little headache some days, a little cold others.

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Statuesque

Dear Mr. Eastman, I don’t speak to just anyone. That’s by choice. Most people say really really dumb things. Even when they have the chance to figure out what they’re going to say beforehand. Like on the news. Ms. Fuchsia-blazer … Read More

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Double Consciousness

Artwork.

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I had a cough all my life. It stood by my side.

Near dusk, we owe an appropriate fear to the light that may not show on the hilly back of the morning beast. Mother takes our picture at sunset. Her finger pushing and begging that button to hold everything still, appeases … Read More

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Another Way of Missing You

In the French, tu me manques – you are missing to me. You are missing to me, to my body, to my arms which starve on air, to my eyes which dream up the shape of you in everything. You … Read More

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Two Poems

BOX You’d handed me the thing because I’d asked to read your letters, made in Romania— not that you’d been there yourself, but from an aunt, you spoke, half-crazy. And because it was a puzzle, you said: Open it. You … Read More

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