Category: Reflections

No Life but in Things

Imagine, for a moment, that you are dead—dead not for a day or a year, but dead for many centuries.

by on

The Room is Spinning

It is 3 a.m and there is Advil by my bed. My phone is on my pillow. I have told four separate friends to text me when they get home, but I may fall asleep before they do. I didn’t know whether I was bringing anyone home tonight, but I made my bed just in case.

by on

Racial Profile

Before I saw a protest on the night of the Ferguson verdict, I was a cynic who idly by and did nothing but criticize as my brothers and sisters fought for change.

by on

Canal

The doctor began to probe the inside of my ear with a stiff stick-shaped ear cleaner made of slender surgical steel.

by on

The BMW Dealership of Benares

“There is a BMW dealership in Benares now,” I tell a friend over Skype, “just outside the airport.”

by on

Notes on Engaging with Black Thought

I have started this piece many times. Each beginning featured a description of Professor Emeritus of African American Studies Cornel West and his entrance into McCosh 50.

by on

Amusement Abandoned

We heard the theme park before we saw it. A constant screech, grating and shrill.

by on

When Life Gives You Lemons

One of my closest friends called recently after a bad breakup. We hadn’t spoken in a few weeks, so when I picked up the phone, I felt that familiar yet uncomfortable sense of separation caused by more than just physical distance.

by on

Sophie’s Namesake

I was named in a fit of impatience. My brother Toby was six years old and frustrated that my parents referred to little unborn me only as “the baby.” Inspired by the book he was reading, one day he asked, “Can we just call her Sophie?” And so they did.

by on

Love in the Time of Lana

I fell in love with Lana Del Rey a week after I got my driver’s license. Sixteen and in the deeper throes of teenage angst, I’d taken to calling the suburban split-level I’d grown up in “my parents’ house” and spending as much time as possible out with my steady, if less than stable, high school boyfriend.

by on

Nom de Guerre

My father chose the name and my mother chose the spelling. My father—for the High Priest Aaron of the Israelites, Moses’ fallible brother who leads the priestly order of Levites but is forever tainted by his participation in the building of the profane Golden Calf.

by on

A Matter of Timing

Think back to yesterday—to the first yesterday, and then the yesterday even before that. The beginning of time—of your time, that is.

by on