Every seven years, all the cells the body has been are gone; replaced. Every seven years we become completely new beings. Which may mean there are two tick marks before Nine Tee will be a name or a tick and Nat-Turner-Nate more tickle than pinch.
First she painted her toenails, a rich sage with some shimmer but no glitter; glitter would be too juvenile. She painted her toes and carefully drew an acetone soaked q-tip around them which made her hand appear to have been more steady than it had truly been. This walking away thing unnerved her. She didn’t [...]
So fiction is part of this Final Girl series. Full disclosure: I stopped trusting my fiction after a too-long stint in middle and high school with novellas about girls named Raisin. Yes, those stories happened. Of course, the day may come when I side eye this the same way. But for now, here goes... --d [...]
My final exam for my Modern Dance class was to choreograph a multi-genre piece using some of the moves we'd studied. I created "Journeys" wherein I danced to Curtis Mayfield's "Think" and recorded a poem about figuring out what artsy revolutionary shit I could get into post-graduation. There was graduate school in creative writing (check) [...]