Would you be happier paying $1,500 for a closet and eating dried beans in a stranger’s city? This is what I’m asking these days. Why are all these graphic designers moving to 35th Street, 32nd Street, 30th Street in my city? The last bartender I met said my neighborhood of origin is a bad one. […]Read more "Every City with a Side"
Dear Tucson, You’re probably wondering why I didn’t say goodbye. You’re probably upset, and I understand how you would feel that way. If you step back from your raw emotion, however, I think that you’ll start to see the rivets in our lives that led us here. We weren’t happy, Tucson. Not together. I know […]Read more "The Break-Up Letter"
I’m packing for a move. My two housemates (who are a couple) bought a house farther east and I’m going with them. It won’t be convenient to get downtown, but I’ll have a garden to grow vegetables and flowers. My housemate says she enjoys getting ready for a move. She likes the getting rid of […]Read more "Packing Up"
When I was in middle school, my hobby was writing terrible historical fiction. There was the time-traveling doomed romance on the Titanic, and the Oregon Trail epic with no plot. But the tale I thought was going to change the American literature landscape was my revolutionary war novel, Eliza Jane. Eliza became a spy for […]Read more "Eliza in Spring"
Everyone’s always talked about how magical Brooklyn is in the fall. I never understood why until I lived here. It’s a fresh season—rooftops are abandoned, littered with reminisces of carefree summer hangouts as artists return to their drawing boards. Muted guitar riffs and drum beats echo through the walls as musicians return to their studios […]Read more "My First Night in Brooklyn"