Giving Thanks or Why Can’t I Write?

It’s come and gone. No, not Thanksgiving — I’m referring to the yawning abyss whose arrival I fear with the very quarks of my being: a lack of ideas, an inability to write. Read along as I try to figure out why

Free in Fall

A leaf, browned and stiff, detaches. Having surrendered the solid security of a tree branch, it has naught but the autumn breeze to hold onto. The wrinkles and folds that the mere idea of winter etched now determine its path: an irregular spiral

Monumental Decay

This past Saturday morning brought with it the stifling realization of yet another weekend at Swarthmore. That isn’t to say that I generally consider weekends at Swat a bad thing, but after five or six spent and forgotten, I was ready for

A Constellation of Memory

The sun sank toward eye-level as I walked to Beardsley Hall, clad in my “most flamboyant patterned shirt,” as per Sarah Diamond’s request. “I have an idea,” she warned me at the end of her email invitation.Her idea, it turned out, was

Review: Bon Iver at the Mann Center

 “I’m up in the woods, I’m down on my mind.” The first words Justin Vernon, lead singer and founder of Bon Iver, uttered on a cool Sunday night at the Mann Center in Philadelphia. These words are not found on For Emma,

A Senior’s Fresh Take on the Arts at Swarthmore

In January of 2012, a month remarkable for little else but the nosehair freezing cold in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan, I explored the full archive of author interviews conducted by The Paris Review since its establishment in 1953. Still a mostly aspiring writer, I