I was thinking...

The great irony of America's twenty-somethings is they despise being told what to do, but they'll go out of their way to be told who they are. If they were to excavate the ancient ruins of sites like Greece or Mexico, they wouldn't listen to the counsel and direction of those who know how to excavate, but they would seek out someone who's willing to tell them what the ruins look like based on popular culture. Identity is like the ruins, though, in that you have to work and remove what's loose and unnecessary to reveal what is structure and what is sediment. And, like the erosion of nature, the erosion of life will either further bury your identity or will slowly destroy what little has been crudely exposed. I was once told by a close friend that, "Identity is the fluid result of what you want and what you'll do to get [what you want]." If that is true, then the aforementioned youth are surrendering their actual identity by failing to want and...

It is so urgent I have to pee right away My spirit, broken If I can't pee soon O, my bladder, most dreadful Will respite yet flow? My patience is strained My stomach is contracting I cannot stand straight If I cannot pee What more am I than a slave Urinary slave The fluid teeters The edge is my greatest fear Unable to flush

Hartford, CONN--“It's a case of 'you don't know what you've got till it's gone,' you know?” says Sam Chenoweth, as he continues to stand in his den while I comfortably sit on the abandoned sofa in the corner. Sam often stands while others sit, these days. “You know,” he continues, “when I look back at it, I think, ‘Why couldn’t I have just L’d my F O?’ You know?” I asked him what the ‘F’ stands for, and with minor confusion he said ‘flab’. Chenoweth is one of many who have LMAO’d--where a person laughs so hard their posterior falls off, a phenomenon that emerged over a decade ago. The first known LMAO case is Kristine Hasboro of Spokane, WA. Back in 2004, Hasboro was IM-ing a friend. They were sending each other URL links of things they'd found online, until a particular link was sent to Hasboro that would change the internet landscape, forever: an animation involving dancing badgers. “It's something that I still regret,” says Hasboro’s close ...

    The steps in the dark were a trick to traverse--       I’d been heading downstairs for a while. Upon reaching a spot where some moonlight was perched,    I sought the soft light to negate the night’s guile. Out the window, by chance, was a figure, of sorts;    A small palette of flesh, and a sketchy profile.    It took shape when I saw its stained pearls and white orbs:       A face with a sinister smile.       “I guess I’ll go scare off this reprobate stranger,”          I thought, like an arrogant child.    I stepped with my toes quietly beneath the danger,       And soon quickly paused out the door on the tile.    ‘Til I heard the door creak and shut loudly behind me.       I twisted so sharply, my life lost a mile.       And, there, through the window, in the room I left blindly       ...

What secrets spoken    have gathered in the clouds?    and how long 'til they rain,    giving seeds of shame the pain they need to bloom?