I find this definition limiting, especially due to the fac…[Read more]

This semester, I’ve taken on several projects which have necessitated a lot of self exploration. Through this exploration, I’ve been forced to come […]

The difference between lyric journalism and journalism is a component that allows for lyric journalism to be contemplative about the “bigger picture” and come to some kind of conclusion about the components of life. For example, it’s the difference between saying that the Romanticism Movement was “was an artistic, literary, musical and…[Read more]

“There was no ‘movement.’ There were no manifestos, clubs, salons, cliques; not even a saloon where the […]

I had to Google that. I set out to write a fairly BS’d post about the chaos of American politics and how it relates to the chaos of other countries’ politics and then tie it all together in some really deep and meaningful way and thought that would have been a decent…[Read more]

Especially when you’ve spent the last four months in a writer’s block-induced fury. You wrestle with the typical writer’s struggle–the need to constantly improve–and […]

Place carries a strong influential factor with it. The context of a place can change the decisions we make about many aspects of our daily life. Consider the two images above, each place […]

While looking for a little bit of inspiration for this first blog post, I simply googled the terms “place” and “writing” separately to see what might come up. “Place,” obviously, came up with pictures of […]

One way to situate yourself abroad is to start to live in the language of the place to which you’re headed.

Check out this great, if sporadic, blog from a group called The Department of Iceland Things, based in a harbor workspace not far from where we’re staying.

In their entry on heima, the Icelandic word for home, where they muse:…[Read more]

I had stayed late at school, long after the last bus left, for some club or tutoring I had felt obligated to partake in just to claim involvement with something other than my own misery. I found myself walking home in solitude. Following the curve of a street lacking…[Read more]

“Stranded,” my grandmother said as she looked up from the Toyota Camry’s hood that had seen more damage than any car probably should and it had finally died sitting outside the community temple. She looked around the empty parking lot, inhaled the spring air, and finally crouc…[Read more]

I had just come back from tramping in the woods. I came into the musty smelling, wood floor slanting kitchen where my mother awaited. I had been gone all afternoon. I was too young to do that. The Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup that my brother and I had begged my mom to b…[Read more]

You are dying.

Your branches wilted,
no longer extend for help.
They twist downward.
You droop, hopeless and
Alone.

Your leaves have fallen.
No one protects
You.
I hug you to give you warmth,
but the wind goes
Through you,
Still.

You’re no longer apart o…[Read more]

Wind-whipped splotches
of red all along her jaw.
Tears dripped over her chin,
down to her collarbones.
 

His eyelids were heavy;
a boxer’s wrists after a match;
slumped with defeat;
exhausted.
 

He closed his eyes,
shook his head,
brought his hands up to
 

Stop. F…[Read more]

Car makers have created a “crumple zone” on modern vehicles that absorbs the impact of an accident. Typically, the crumple zone is located in the front of the car and acts to minimize the dangers of being in a collision.

“If the car wasn’t already so full I’d invite yo…[Read more]