Word: thingness
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...nary a hymnal. I straightened back up, I looked left, I looked right. I even rocked onto my toes to peer down the far ends of the pews. All empty. Daddy didn’t have a hymnal either but he was looking on with Mrs. Hannway. The same thing for the stranger on my left.I really did try worshipping with everybody else. But I hadn’t actually sung the song for a year or two (or five...not since ’61?). And the more I tried to sing, the less I knew, and the sorer...
...know the first thing that happens when you turn on a Sega Genesis?” asked Shota Nakama, the guitarist at the Berklee Performance Center’s most recent sold-out concert. And in unison the entire audience, from the two five-year-old boys in the front row to the professorial composers scattered throughout the crowd, enthusiastically responded “Sega!” At once, the immense sound of the Video Game Orchestra filled the intimate venue with the “Sonic the Hedgehog” theme. The VGO—comprised...
...dude go for it—she’s all up ons!” But hear me out. When you’re chilling in the bro-zone, the LAST thing you want is the added pressure of the coquetteishly ambiguous late-night text or in my case, the three or four that inevitably roll in as the evening matures. Yeah you know what I’m talkin’ about! It’s like, how do I respond to that? I got too many demands, ladiez, to spend my time navigating that mine-field...
Most Sunday mornings, the first thing I do is frantically check my phone and scroll through my history from the night before to discover who I textually harassed. That’s right, textually harassed. I admit that I am, like so many others out there, a textual harasser. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t stop. I’ve tried erasing certain guys’ numbers...
Furthermore, why not just sack up and go out on a limb to get what you want? The worst thing that can happen is that you don’t get a response, but who cares? At least you tried. Furthermore, the victims ask for it, and deep down, I know they love it. Who doesn’t enjoy getting a 4:00 a.m. invite to “come snuggle?” They just don’t have the balls to text you themselves—at least that’s what I keep telling...