A catalog of the stuff in my apartment
Here’s something the Belgrade-born poet Charles Simic wrote in the 1990s about when he was a young immigrant in Chicago in the 1950s: Here I am on the midnight el riding to work or coming back after a long day. It’s winter. It’s bitter cold. Every time the door opens, we shiver, our teeth […]
At the Southern Baptist megachurch my family attended when I was growing up, you were supposed to bring your own Bible to services, which were held Sunday mornings, Sunday evenings, and Wednesday evenings—and that doesn’t even count Sunday school, choir practice, youth group, and periodic revival meetings. Not to mention the daily Bible classes and […]
You can’t tell from the photo because the print is sepia for some reason, but the wall we’re standing in front of was royal blue. This was in the apartment of Frank’s friend Sam, who had painted each wall in the place a different bright primary color. I was going to strain for a Skittles […]
The reasons I’ve heard for why parents in the olden days didn’t want their kids to be left-handed are remarkably similar to the reasons certain parents don’t want their kids to be gay. In both cases, the argument has to do with the benefits of conforming with the majority and/or avoiding wickedness. Since most people […]
At this point, having CDs is like Christianity: so passé it’s embarrassing. Nevertheless, I’ve hung onto a bunch of my CDs. For that matter, I still practice Christianity. Though I stream music like everybody else nowadays, I appreciate a CD’s tidy square packaging, the little booklet of song lyrics that’s often included, and the finite […]
There are those who seem to have boundless confidence in the greatness of their home states. Such people usually come from Texas or California. The unhesitating state pride strikes me as unearned in one of those cases, but I’m too polite to get specific. I come from Arkansas, which inspires more complicated feelings, especially in […]
Indirect Objects 