Can I Live? The Rap Writer’s Essential Question

I’ve never played the piano, unless you count that mindless tinkering we all do as kids. I’ve always looked at that box of wood lined with keys like a Rubik’s Cube; a puzzle that doesn’t compute between my ears.  I couldn’t tell you the difference between the long, sleek, white bars or the stubbier, taller…

They’re Just Stories.

I Want To Be Adored By J.D He sat at the computer while the cursor arrogantly blinked. Next to his laptop was an ashtray overflowing with the expired, stubbed-out sticks of dead end ideas; each sucked to the filter as if the answers might be in those tiny wads of cotton. We’re taught from the…