In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of my folly,
In a mad interpolation demanding I stay jolly,
Making my skin feel crawly
With a new hatred of holly
And a resolute desire
To shout at Target’s newest hire. Read more
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of my folly,
In a mad interpolation demanding I stay jolly,
Making my skin feel crawly
With a new hatred of holly
And a resolute desire
To shout at Target’s newest hire. Read more
Christmas ghosts complicate my time. They remind me things are not linear; time is tangled, circuitous; you can travel to any point in your life and wander a while. Read more
When I rose to pass a dish, I felt a weird wet sensation when I sat back down. I ignored it. But as I ate, I realized I didn’t feel good. Thinking I was about to make more room for ham and scalloped potatoes, I grabbed a magazine and went to my favorite stall in the locker-room-style bathroom. Read more
We have our chosen families — but how do you mend the hole your blood relatives make when they abandon you? Read more
Watching the film this bleak Christmas season, though, it’s difficult to enter fully into its spirit of democratic communal celebration. Read more
I decided that Santa was Black at that moment simply because he wanted to be, and I felt closer to Santa than ever before. Read more
I’d like to give Benedict Cumberbatch an ugly Christmas sweater and then climb all over him like a holiday Jungle Gym, but rumor is he’s not into ugly Christmas sweaters, so that’s just too bad for me. Read more