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Blood Tangent | Column

A body is fragile. It can be bruised, slashed, pricked, torn, burned; it becomes stiff and frigid; things fall apart. I should have died  the moment I was born. Three months premature and born with an infection. “You went through hell and back,” my dad

Blood Tangent | Column

The only thing I have written down since I put off writing this column (even though I have been awake from the hours of 1 to 4 a.m. and  have nothing else to do) is a quote from a Frederick Seidel poem and some ramblings

Blood Tangent | Column

I woke up to the rattling bass of trap music from my nearly blown-out computer speakers. I checked my phone; I woke up before my alarm again. It was supposed to be a normal Friday. I shuffled into my practically microscopic bathroom to straighten my hair,

Blood Tangent | Column

  My phone will buzz. I will ignore every call. The screen will light up. “Call me, it’s about Mimi,” the text will read. When I read it, I will most likely be in the midday shadows of my apartment, the droning of a television