Ode to the Man I Saw Swallow a Cigarette on Middle Path

Image result for diagram of the throat

where the cigarette went, probably

Tyler Raso

Professor Severus Snape

Magic, Mayhem, and Making Amends (but Not, Like, Urgently)

22 February 2019

Title

In this paper I will argue that I saw a man (stature of a fully grown corn stalk, backwards baseball cap, not really in a rush, alone) swallow an entire (100% of a) cigarette (lit). The day was Thursday (February 7th), and the time, lunch. I was walking southward on Middle Path, and the subject north. Point of contact: Ransom Hall. The weather was frog degrees and sticky tack was precipitating (lightly) from the sky. This was normal because it was an Ohio winter. I don’t have a thesis because this piece is more, like, exploratory. “Can the human experience truly be captured in language, the construction site of the psyche” (CITE). Someone at the Writing Center told me this paper was “full of, uhm, ideas” and then offered me a complementary candy (but they were out of dark chocolate Hershey Kisses). Because the straw prose of analytical writing couldn’t contain all my feelings, observations, ideologies, methodologies, insecurities, fondness for sea otters, suspicions, jazz music, sobriety, or overdue library books, I’ve decided to continue my paper in poetic form instead.

Continue reading

I Drank 10 SToK Caffeine Shots Just To See What Would Happen

img_1440-e1549666288404.jpg

***DISCLAIMER***PLEASE READ***

I, Elinor Davis Melick, am SOLELY responsible for my own bad decisions. The Thrill is not liable for any adverse health effects I may experience as a result of this experiment, and The Thrill staff in no way endorses or condones excessive caffeine consumption, not even for the sake of content. Continue reading

I Drank Out of Bowls For Three Days and Sorry I’m Enlightened Now (But Not Really)

IMG_3436

photo cred: Mollie Greenberg, who would like to say “I think you could associate me with liquids”

Look around you. The world is two big bowls pressed together with a cranberry vinaigrette salad in the middle. Your head is a bowl for the squishy computer we call the brain. Your hands are just flexi-bowls. Eyes? Bowls. Your heart is a bowl for the slippery blood which breaths emotion and heartburn into you. Bowls, even, are fashion (see below).

Continue reading