Over the past two weeks, my campus house has had 200 multivitamins, 48 beers, 10 bottles of wine, seven pints of ice cream, four bags of chips, two Monster energy drinks and one gallon of spring water delivered to our doorstep.
TV has always moved too fast for me. I was too busy running track and selling books in high school to participate in my nuclear family’s “Breaking Bad” bonding routine, I gave up on “Twin Peaks” after distractedly missing too many plot points and I figured that everyone else knew enough about “The Office” and “Game of Thrones” for me to ride on their collective coattails.
“As a writer I’m really drawn toward hyper-realistic, almost awkward dialogue and inner monologue,” said Reid in a recent phone interview with The Michigan Daily. “And I’m very drawn to characters who find themselves in positions of power and don’t really know what to do with it.”
In its own peculiarity, Porter’s bizarre little book deconstructs the myths we create to survive those moments when there is no rational explanation, everything from Dead Papa Toothwort to media coverage to the critical literary things I tell myself about the words falling off the page — whatever makes you feel better.
One of the poems in Franny Choi’s latest collection is written in code.
“Program for the Morning After” initially appears to be a mad experiment in punctuation and form. But, if you spend a little time with the poem, the curly braces and brackets and semicolons fall into a general pattern recognizable to any hacker under the sun. Choi is writing functions — code plot — that iterate through the possible thought loops one might experience after waking up in someone else’s bed:
Grizzly Peak may be one of the friendliest places in Ann Arbor. It’s nestled on the corner of Washington and Ashley Streets, as if the brewery itself is welcoming you downtown. Grizzly Peak’s historic building space, casual atmosphere and top-notch menu land it in that sweet spot between super chill and quite nice (the burgers are adorned with chimichurri aioli on artisan rolls). Honestly, it’s the perfect place to take your parents.
Between its adorable exposed-brick facade, twinkle-light terrace and overall vibrance (the food! the colors!), The Lunch Room’s Instagram notoriety is, quite frankly, deserved. The place is happy, full of natural light and smiling service. The servers will say stuff like “here’s your yung Pad Thai” and compliment your cigarette case. And there are free postcards!