Should an adult make claims on us for our acceptance of the objectivity of his subjective phenomena we discern or diagnose madness. -- D.W. Winnicott It was louder than loud, noisier than noise. It probably doesn't help to use paradoxes to explain, but that's what it was: a paradox. It was one of those things…
The Sun-Lost Singer
He was a face you'd know. The mere contours, no colors included, and you'd have the name at the ready. Hell, even the colors, no contours, of a particularly lustrous and illustrious costume, and you might know him. And he was a voice that was heard somewhere, in some part of the world, in every…
A Tale for the Reader
In the past few months, I have had the experience of students and their parents remarking that they found me to be a "profound" thinker. I have no idea what they mean, nor what "profundity" comprises. In hopes of emulation (and I would caution them against such misguided flattery), they asked how I came to…
Lost in Memory’s Echoing Caverns
The poet awoke in a dark and desolate place, remembering only that he was a poet. He did not remember what poetry was, what sense could be made of the beauty of words. But, still, he remembered that he was a poet. He found, scrawled on notes, strewn across the cavern floor, a series of…
Studies in Pysch-Soc. Dev., File #4301
I'm a 29th trimester student. I'm dating a 33rd, named Grey. My parents worry that we are at differing developmental stages, that we are neurologically incompatible (at least for now), even though our physiologies fit--we are hormonally synchronous. I put up a fight; they sent me to a counselor. My therapist suggested that my relationship…