LOVE OF LITERATURE AND HISTORY
Written by C Hues
December 19, 2022
The game is coming on soon, three hours before noon. I hop on my bed, relaxed. Sitting still, so still, almost dead. Taxed. A hard day’s work deserves a quiet night watching your home team inevitably lose. This is the fate of being a Wizards fan. I reach under the pillow to change the channel. Not there. I look under the bed. Not there. By the time I find it, the game’s over. We won.
Written by C Hues
December 18, 2022
Attempt 1: I take a brown egg; I crack it hard. Not hard enough. Now, trying to peel it open, the hard shells mix with yoke. What a joke. Attempt 2: I take another brown egg; I crack it hard. Too hard. Expensive eggs—at least they’re not wasted. The egg shoots into the bowl. I turn on the pot with water. Add some vinegar. I slowly, slowly, slowly pour the egg into the pot— Too fast. Not enough water. It looks like a fried egg. I still see the yoke. Attempt 3: I go to McDonald’s for an Egg McMuffin. Fuck poached eggs.
Written by C Hues
December 17, 2022
I hear the screams, the pain…the trauma carried through the genes. AFRICA Mende, Igbo, Yoruba, Bantu, Wolof, Fulani…These women taken from their homes and chained together, catching diseases, dying on the shipsstucknexttostrangers…we’re all in the same boat now. AMERICA The colonists brutalize and rape the Indigenous women. The slave owners brutalize and rape the black women. The dark women have light children, and the light children have lighter children who forgot that they came from the dark women. The dark women drown in their tears, and cry, “You have forgotten us.” We’re all in the same boat now.
Written by C Hues
December 15, 2022
I just bought a cat. Then, I bought a bird at 12. Now my cat has lunch.
Written by C Hues
December 13, 2022
11:59 is the very best time. How I love the dread of getting through the day, everything’s going well and then, that last minute— like a spider, spinning down that has caught some prey unaware— realizing that you forgot that paper is due next minute, or your love sends a text, “It’s over.” Right before the clock strikes 12 A.M. That’s two days ruined.