Thursday, April 5, 2012


Seen waiting for the Red Line to 95th at the Fullerton Station at about 8:25 a.m. 

Tricia leans against a column, sips her coffee, and imagines her body, broken and bloody, splayed across the train tracks. This happens all the time now, ever since the shooting. That day she heard the heavy cracks of the gun, she saw her dead classmates. Her spit tasted sour, the flavor of revulsion and panic. It’s still the aftertaste of everything she eats and drinks.

Now Tricia always has visions of her dead self. She has died in so many ways. The other day she walked by a skyscraper; she calmly watched as the thin glass window floated down and cleanly sliced through her neck. Last summer she went fishing on her stepdad’s boat. All she could picture was her backside—bloated, blue, unresponsive—floating in the black water. Tricia knows this isn’t normal, that she should get help. She snuggles her arms inside her soft Huskies hoodie. She whispers: 

“Go, Huskies, Go!”

The corners of her mouth turn up bitterly. That’s obviously not what the shooter was thinking. 

I had friends at NIU when the shooting occurred a few years ago. Scary stuff.

New blog you should follow: Coffee Cup Doodles! It's exactly what you'd expect. This talented artist, who is ALSO a fellow Chicagoan, draws beautiful pictures on coffee cups. If you follow the blog on Facebook, you can even request what pictures you'd like to see. Very cool stuff.

Also, Lovelorn Poets gave me a little shout-out on Facebook today, so I just want to return the favor. It's a great blog that chronicles well-written Missed Connections from around the country. You should definitely have a look.

Going to see Wild Flag tonight! Excited.  

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