Why I No Longer Vote I grew up believing voting was sacred, not dramatic or heroic, just one of those moral duties you honored without question, like telling the truth or showing up for church. Election nights were ritual: my parents voted together, we watched the maps change colors on TV, and I was told that participating meant you were a good citizen. When I finally turned eighteen, just days before a presidential election, I treated it like initiation. I registered early,

The Seduction Revenge is America’s secret love language. We dress it up as justice, accountability, closure, but nothing quickens the pulse like righteous payback. Vengeance is intoxicating and cinematic. It clarifies chaos. It turns a hostile world into something simple and easy to ascertain: someone hurt you, hurt them back. Cue the strings. Fade to black. Balance restored. I’m taking a friend to Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street . There’s nothing like friends

Fridays are built for hyperbole, I told a friend recently. "This week lasted an eternity." "I barely made it through the week." "TGIF, Thank God it's Friday.” Consider how hyperbolic we all become on Friday. The weekend gleams ahead like a mirage, language loosens its tie, and many of us talk like survivors of a shipwreck on Friday. Maybe exaggeration once defined Friday, the harmless overstatement of fatigue and relief. Now it’s everywhere. Every day is a Friday. Every utter

In the morning, before light enters the day, the world begins with sound. Before the first blush of dawn, the trees start whispering their secret syllables: warbles, trills, chirps, and whistles that seem to hold an intelligence older than language. Birdsong is nature’s background music, but it’s also the first act of creation, replayed in miniature every morning. It is a living echo of the divine “Let there be,” translated into breath and feather. The Prehistoric Ear Long be