Text: “What State are you in?”
“Anxiety”
Haven’t we all been there? Also side note, but I feel like since 2020 fewer and fewer people have online/long distance friends. Why is that?
Critter Comix Week Four!
Category: Uncategorized
aSoSS 33 | Handprint
We should just become English and get double-decker buses.
Pierpont Commons, 11:30AM, 11/8/2024
there is a screech of sweaty palm on stainless steel. the paint is stripped away in degrees, each sheet plastered to a different person. to think that we grabbed the same railing, turned the same key, held our own hands in the absence of the other’s. i was young and i did not realize you were young too. the paint, strong and dazzling, untouched. the pain, flaring, like a static discharge through the heart. the same hands, once cupped and overflowing, are now scrabbling at the coffin–but from which side? bury me alive, if it means you will never see me dead.
This is a really weird Sunday. I feel like everybody who was already gonna be somewhere has already left.
Trader Joe’s, 12:30PM, 11/24/2024
you are stuck somewhere in a space without dimension, a page without definition. your hair trembles. if i blink, you wave, your wrist flapping back and forth, your smile stretched between ears. an apparition, childish at heart, perhaps the worst way to suffer eternity. scream! please scream! the soul never matures; it knows the mortality of the body cannot compensate for the factors of luck, the four-sixteen-sixtyfour-leaf clover tattooed on your back. you are stuck somewhere, going but not gone, and i am stuck with you, suffering in silence, praising the deity that granted passage.
the devil’s dichotomy: an underworld, or a world without you.
Thanksgiving! It’s about the food and the family. I’ve told you, it’s like Christmas without the capitalism!
Glen/Catherine Inbound, 9:30PM, 10/8/2024
it is hard to write fiction and recognize the elements of truth that are sewn into the words, baked into the structure, digested in conscience and spit out as thought. of course i am thankful, but to speak it aloud would shatter the reality, a stake driven into the timeline. the only way to speak is to write, to draw parallels, to squint at the stars and see a bear. we are a kaleidoscope of butterflies, each of our successes driven by the updraft of our companion’s wings. i thank the earth for spinning so that i may see the sun split the horizon every day. i thank the moon for shining so that i may read and cry and dream without judgement.
i thank you, dear reader, for listening so that i may share a slice of this fruitful life with those who enjoy it.
A Side of Sketching – First Snow!
This past week, Ann Arbor saw its first snow of the winter season! This was the inspiration for this week’s sketch, which features a character donned in a puffy coat and Michigan hat. I’m not a fan of having to get bundled up every time I want to venture outside, but I do appreciate all of the activities that come with the season- like skiing and ice skating! Plus, the ebb of one season into the next serves as great inspiration for sketches like this.
LOG_036_CANYONS
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The canyons were remarkably similar to certain geological formations found in southwestern North America: great sentinels of stone and rock, worn down by wind and water over eons, amber and ruddy in the afternoon light. Alero felt almost–what was it? Nostalgia? Disappointment?–for something they’d only seen in pictures. This was the closest they would get to seeing the original, light-years from the cradle of human civilization. They tipped their face towards the star, feeling warmth seep in; then restarted the engine, trundling ever onward to the next waypoint.
First Snow
This past Thursday, Michigan students saw the first snow of the season. While it did not last long, having some snow is better than none. Last year, snow came earlier than this year, so it feels weird that there is not a lot of snow. Why am I waiting for more snow? What about snow makes it so special to see? For me, an out of state student from Colorado, I miss seeing snow so often. Yet, the reason for snow being so special to me goes beyond this reason. I see snow and music correlated together. I feel nostalgia when I see snow falling. Both snow and music have a sense of beauty and fluidity that has layers of complexity. For snow, a snowfall can start gentle and slowly heighten as it builds layers. With music, a piece can start calm and build up to the climax. The swirling of snowflakes in the air, as they fall in a gentle motion, mirrors music as musicians have the power to interpret the piece any way they want. The notes can be soft and quiet, much like the mood a snowfall gives, and it could be light and mantle in the way a piece is played.
I immediately thought of Debussy’s “The Snow is Dancing“, as quite literally the name of the piece describes snow. The structure of the piece itself captures the “dance” of snow with its shimmering effect and delicate flowing patterns of the snow falling onto the ground. The piece also has a moment, climax, where the snow grows harsher and the winds become cruel. This evokes the feeling of heavy Michigan snowfalls, as it becomes impossible to walk to class. It then quiets and calms down, however, at the end of the piece, emphasizing the delicacy and stillness of snow falling.
The Bursley Pirate Ship: FLOOD EDITION
PIRATE SHIP FACT: Even medieval pirate ships had drainage systems to disperse the effects of ship flooding (the Middle Ages started around 476 A. D. for reference).
I started this blog with a metaphor. I did not mean to manifest the symbolism.
Last Thursday marked Bursley Hall’s brief run as the Ann Arbor Kalahari. After a pipe broke on the fifth floor of Sanford House, the four floors below became aquatic as well, with over half of each hall experiencing flooding from under their doors and walls. The building was evacuated at around 1 AM while campus officers dealt with the damage.
I was sitting the CLC when the fire alarm went off. This is terrible to publish publicly, but I was quite ready to sit out the alarm. It’s a testament to my lack of self preservation, but the chance that the smoke isn’t just from someone microwaving their popcorn for forty-five minutes is very slim at this point. Thankfully, someone with much better senses burst into the CLC and yelled “there’s BLACK WATER filling the hallway we gotta go right-“
Even I got that cue.
We quickly grabbed our belongings (because I’d rather drown than tell my parents I need a new computer) and headed towards Baits. As my friends and I passed Bursley on our walk, the steam we saw on the windows was cruel foreshadowing.
I remember laughing in Baits with everyone about how we should go do laps, a hall toilet was revolting, etc. Baits filled with confused Bursley kids till 1:30 am. While looking for positives, the Bursley residents looked around and found hope in the statement “at least we don’t live here.”
The second statement that was fueling me was “well it can’t be my hall.” Then my friend got a text from a source near the building.
We ran back to Bursley, swiped in probably twenty times cause the card reader was feeling needy, and ran to my roommate and I’s dorm. I looked across the floor and girls were already dumping their wet items into the hall. There was a pool of water at the center of the floor that everyone was hopping over like it was their 9 to 5, exhausted faces all around. The girls on my floor were already over it, and it had just begun.
I threw my door open to find the entire back flooded. Our fridge was swimming in a couple inches of water while the microwave and coffee machine were getting showered by the water pouring in from the window. Thankfully, I am surrounded by people who are way too nice who helped my roommate and I sort through our drenched belongings.
When I tucked myself into my friend’s couch (which was actually really comfortable), it was around 4 am. We later learned that a pipe broke on the fifth floor when two boys were playing football, and accidentally hit a sprinkler. Either Tom Brady reenrolled and got housed here to study musical theatre at the drama center, or Bursley is the only building in history with paper piping. Not only do we live in the woods, but now we live near the lake.
They offered us temporary housing in Stockwell, which I believe is one of the nicest dorms on campus. So from our perspective it’s like our decaying cabin in the woods got destroyed, but then the landlord for our cabin decided to give us keys to their penthouse, only to snatch it away in about a week. This is a university sponsored space so I do want to mention (for nuance) that yes yes, this is an accidental and isolated situation. I’ll ponder this more from the Qdoba in the West Quad basement.
At least this album cover came out of it.
From the Sanford House lazy river while sipping dining hall apple juice on a flamingo floaty,
Captain Singh
