Biking – Haddayr Copley-Woods

You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.

http://www.salon.com/2014/04/13/david_foster_wallace_was_right_irony_is_ruining_our_culture/ So, this article is so bad it’s not even WRONG. I mean, I could start with the fact that they don’t understand what irony is. I could end with the fact that they seem to be living in a different country than I am, and using a different Internet. Instead, it appears that IContinue reading “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”

Love

Biking home in the gloaming, I stopped at Lake Street and 13th Avenue. A prostitute worked the corner across the road and her pimp lounged on a bench next to me, his baseball cap pulled down over his face. An extremely inebriated man who was weaving vaguely across 13th Avenue saw me coasting to aContinue reading “Love”

A Riot in Bloom

When I was a little girl, I misheard “a riotous bloom” as “a riot in bloom.” Today, on my commute to work, the peonies were the very definition of a rebellious riot in bloom: tossing their gorgeous, heavy, fragrant frowsy heads, careless of how their skirts fell or whose eye they arrested: loud and crowdedContinue reading “A Riot in Bloom”

On assuming you know things and being happy and biking

I posted this wonderful article on Facebook last night by The DIY Couturier: 21 Tips to Keep Your Shit Together When You’re Depressed. It was a direct response to one of those interminable articles by happy people on how to be happy just like them (quick sum-up: it’s not luck, stunningly easy access to the upperContinue reading “On assuming you know things and being happy and biking”

Concussed

I type this looking away from the screen, out the front window where it snows lushly and my neighbor has parked her truck and climbed up her icy, snow-covered steps into the apartment building across the street. My neighbor is very glamorous; today she wears a pink scarf over her beautiful red hair. The couchContinue reading “Concussed”