aSoSS 19 | Spring

That is my biggest pet peeve, dealing with the Sun in my eyes. I can’t do it.

Pierpont Commons, 5:00PM, 2/6/2024

what if the world goes white as it dies? we are taught to fear darkness, undiscernible shapes, figures we cannot recreate. we forget that sight is a blessing, that light is a byproduct of our universal fortune, cast upon by a star too angry to cool, too forgiving to combust. allow yourself to be blinded, like a screen burn-in. the rods and cones permanently fixate on colors that are no longer there. spangles of sun, once streaked with rainbows, now shine mutely. a wavelength of contingencies remain out of sight, but never out of mind.


Ten minutes after I close, I look outside and it’s snowing? Why are people buying ice cream right now??

Couzens Hall, 2:00PM, 3/14/2024

a long time ago i learned to measure the time in increments smaller than seasons. before it was just the summer, a time when i could walk outside and find sweet drops of ice cream dotting the sidewalk. in fall these dots became leaves, and in winter these leaves became snowflakes, which blossomed into sprouts in the spring. there was also a different time of day that the seasons could not measure, an ache that cannot be expressed in words. the sky swirls blue raspberry and the sprouts are strangled by weeds.

i see the clouds fading from vanilla to strawberry to hazelnut to chocolate. tongues do not melt on lips, but i shiver just the same.


You’re ready for cold and it’s warm, you’re ready for warm and it’s cold…

Traverwood Library, 1:30PM, 3/17/2024

the earth does not pause for a second, a marble scarred with the ironies of man. a sorites paradox on the surface: when does the sun give way to cloud, when does the cloud overflow with rain? a single gust of wind, a splash of heat, and the future is completely changed. how can fates be charted beneath a horse’s hoofbeat or a bison’s breath? one or two gives way to band or herd. at a quantum level, the act of observation changes the result–we are simply grains of sand to be brushed away, discarded, glued to the corner of a different piece of the planet.

Capturing Campus: March

Dreaming as a 10-year-old

before acceptance letters
and decision day
commencement speeches
and ceremonies
I thought of college as some mythical place
some mysterious paradise
of granted logic, satisfying meaning
somewhere of hope and possibility
which I know now doesn’t exist in full
but at least the buildings look like Hogwarts
from time to time

Wolverine Stew: A Couple Games of Life

If I looped a day this week it would be

The one of paper eyes, water on fire

And a wave of scattered dice

A room erupting in howling cheers

And you are part of those cheers

And the cacophony is almost as sweet

As the impromptu victory feast of three afterwards

The one of cackling sailors and bees

Mechanical smiles reflecting my own

Popcorn boxes and pinball machines

Acid-touched stone man, wall of magicians and elephants

Going together to each of the

Drums, zombies, and a card with my fortune

Root beer floats, overflowing or not

And I could get used to it all

And to the

Quiet in the sunlight afterward

As turkey tails sprout from rotting logs

And every yard begins to turn blue with flowers

Because whether it’s something old or new

I still feel at home

aSoSS 18 | Disbelief

Bro just asked me if I’ve ever tried putting ice cream on a cookie. As if I’m not a fatass!

Mosher-Jordan Dining Hall, 7:30PM, 1/31/2024

before it came crashing down you once said we all end up in the same place. like life is a stomach and we are forced to churn. water can flow down the wrong pipe // seeds can sprout in lungs // i could give in or give way or give up and would that be so bad? spin the wheel of fortune, grab a wedge of sunlight, shrink down into the abyss that follows. this is nice, you think, a noiseless descent into the vault of memory. no bad angles, just perfect planes. when biting into an animal cracker, aim straight for the heart.


You live in a house? Like a mailbox and a driveway and a backyard and everything?

Yeah.

What is this? What kind of sorcery is this?

Hot Topic, 2:00PM, 1/14/2024

to make the argument about human necessity is to implicate man as an accessory. downfall is self-assembled, like a robot. ants among giants, ogres among angels–elected because they could reach the heavens, and scolded because they would not leave. a beanstalk, chopped down, falling to the earth like the fallen logs that lined the fence to the elementary school. i taste the odor of gas and smell the chainsaw’s teeth and i know another one has fallen.

–and yet i walked up to the house, past the rubble, between the beams that lifted the structure into the sky. i lived, i lived–


I get drinks by asking for a water cup.

Okay, well I’m nice and I pay for my drinks, plus I have the Panera Sip Club…

I’m sorry that you have morals.

Glen/Catherine Outbound, 12:00PM, 1/27/2024

it is always easier to talk about something that is lost. even easier when the object is subjective, when there are strains of doubt that can seep into the pavement, tearing up the stairs and the highways and the purgatories that lie beyond. have you lost your mind? your wits? your morals? a quantum experiment, schrodinger’s reply, yes and no shattered against a backdrop of an infinite outcomes. flip one of the switches, true-to-false, and you will survive, won’t you? change all of them–a novel binary, encoded in the scraps of your imagination–and you loop to the person you once were.

Capturing Campus: March

Corporeal Cloud
if you look too long at the sky
you’ll fall in
plunging deep in the pocket
between times and spaces
that weren’t there yesterday
to steal your breath and the blood
in your bones a talisman for the justification
the gathering of your insides
in vague palms like cotton candy mounds
flossing between windowsills and rooftop shingles
a corporeal cloud
which is all too much
until you feel your feet on the ground

The Art of Involvement #2

The Art of Involvement: The Unfortunate Need to Rest

“Time is a wall we all share” and there are so few doors. I am unsatisfied. I am always unsatisfied.  

I write this with a pounding headache, while eating half of a chocolate chip cookie for dinner. It’s that time of the year: burnout central. Most would call it midterms. I know I am most definitely not alone in my exhaustion this week. Being a student is demanding, not to mention someone who chases passion and community around as much as I do while having to drive 30 minutes there and back, and work, and meet with friends, and… Well, you get the idea. 

Art is wonderful, and art is something that feeds me and drains me all at once. I definitely think it’s something worth the extra effort to support. I am always swept away by how much I love being around people that value art as much as I do, but as much as I loathe to admit it, I can’t experience it all. 

Even now, as I dedicate this small amount of time to expressing myself, I know I could be relaxing. Soaking in the tub or annoying my cat with unwarranted kisses sounds wonderful. I also know that I regret it when I don’t force myself to sit down and write. I find myself too often taking a passive role in my own life, scrolling endlessly through mind-numbing content rather than reflect, engage, and create on my own terms. 

I avoid life because work and school are already quite enough, thank you very much, but then I feel less myself… It’s a dilemma I’ve always struggled with. 

My current solution is attending the events painstakingly put together by the people around me. I overcommit, of course. Not only am I a chronic people pleaser, but being busy tends to make me feel happier until I hit the wall. 

Hello again, wall. 

Part of the wall right now is due to my own spent energy in coordinating other things, such as the literary magazine, Lyceum. My baby. My creative outlet since Freshman year that I have struggle to let go of now that I’ve helped it hobble along for almost 4 whole years. Now we are getting over 50 people each semester to submit their work and its going great! Right before I have to leave. 

Graduation looms, and it’s exciting and terrifying all at once. And there’s another reason: I need to do everything I want to now, before I leave student life behind. A college campus is such a brief, wonderfully compact time and place to connect, explore, and grow. My time here feels like it’s been so brief (and partially it was, due to the shutdown that left me adrift in Zoom purgatory). I found my places and my interests, and it was only through me throwing my all into things and being open. I’d say my frantic attempts to avoid regret might end up rather successful. 

Here I am, tired and setting up for another full day tomorrow,  knowing I am not going to sleep enough tonight–head swimming with plays, drag shows, and open mics and I feel happy. I’m glad for the reminder of my personal limits as well… maybe it will click this time? It usually does, at least for a small stretch. Then I throw my alone time to the wind once more, only to be violently reminded that I am, in fact, an introvert. That I am, in fact, just human. 

For the record, this is not the post I wanted to write for this week, but it is the one that won’t leave me alone until I push it out of my system. And here I am, forcing you to be a witness. Isn’t that the nature of art? Maybe you relate, or roll your eyes, or award me with a brief nose-exhale. Maybe you don’t read this at all, but it’s still here for you.

And hey, my headache feels better.

Of course the sun stretches itself so wide, to touch all that it can
I want to scatter too, selfishly. Afraid to lose touch. 
Do not compel me, put the focusing lens away I will wash 
All in fragile warmth / Sustaining.

italicized entries from my journal, 4/1/23