The heat is inescapable. The traffic is thick and loud. The People in the streets laugh and carry on. The roaches move with freedom along the concrete floors, hiding from any instrument of clean. 

This has been the story of my life in Atlanta, Georgia. I left East Lansing over two months ago to begin a new chapter. My uncle, Anthony (everyone calls him Tony), has put me up in his apartment on a luxurious air mattress and has fed me well. The primary goal of my new venture is to help grow a business from the ground up. Located in the Sweet Auburn Curb Market, our two restaurants occupy the southeast corner. Grindhouse Killer Burgers serves up award winning Burgers and hand-spun milkshakes with unapologetic attitude. A projector on the wall shows B-movies while you wait for your order, either dine-in or carry-out. 

Next door is Three Cities Pizza. During the day you can get it by the slice, with a salad and drink for only 8.50. The business wanes between the hours of 3 and 5; but come the nighttime, we deliver anywhere within a five mile radius. And sometimes farther if I’m not paying attention. The pizza place is for all of those transplants that moved to Atlanta for work, and left behind the pizza they know and love. If you like it thin and foldable, get a New York style. For those that indulge in the thick and round variation, Chicago’s your kind of pie. But for me, my uncle, and anyone that hails from Motown; buttery and crispy crust reminds you of your native home in Detroit. At Three Cities, we want our customers to eat the pizza they grew up with. 

As for me, I’m doing what I can to make and save that cheddar. College is the single most expensive thing I’ve ever dared to invest in. That investment, while never guaranteed to pan out, is only worth a damn once completed. I know that, I truly do. I endeavor to get a bachelors degree, either two years from now or ten. 

The very simple truth is this: I Fucked Up. It happens to everybody, and it happened to me. I make no excuses and offer limited explanations. That does not change the fact that I am smart, talented and bright. Look at what I just did with a pen and paper. I made you hungry. 

I’m hungry too. Hungry for more. 

Buon Appetito, 

Daniel J. Neebes

 

Spin

Spin

Spin

Stop!

That’s not how you win

Why do you grin?

This is serious

Why do you look so delirious?

Aren’t you curious?

You gotta:

Spin

Spin

Spin

Stop!

You’re a rat on a wheel

You’ll run until you squeal

Oh you want a meal?

It’ll cost ya

Oh yes it will

An arm, leg, and a heel

Okay ready?

Spin

Spin

Spin

Stop!

Take a rest, heal

You’ll need your energy

for a sequel

Come on friend

You can do it

You want to be my equal

Well you gotta

Spin

Spin

Spin

Stop!

Almost done now

Don’t fret

It’ll all be over in a sec

Just think of all

the people you gotta protect

Okay ready, set

Spin

Spin

Spin

Stop!

Okay, get off

Look around

Now you’re on top

I felt powerful, once…

and then, I didn’t.

 

I’m not sure if it was the act itself that did it

or so much as the loss of control that came after.

 

I felt powerful, once…

and then I forgot to eat and sleep

for almost an entire year,

running my body

and myself

into the ground.

 

I felt powerful, once….

until the times that

I had to pull into a parking lot

and turn off the car because the tears were

falling from my eyes

too thickly for me to see as I drove.

 

I felt powerful, once…

and then I felt small at 1 am,

sobbing, because my body sometimes forgets

that it doesn’t have to

fight, freeze, or flee from the person I love.

 

I felt powerful, once…

and now, I don’t.

 

-xxx

“Hello, hello, hello. Yes, yes, everyone, please, please. Oh you are too gracious, thank you for coming out tonight, please take a seat”

*Applause fades and a spotlight beams onto WILB on stage*

“Well here I am, and once again: I’m sorry I’ve been away. You know time really gets away from you when you’re living in a dystopia. One day you’re pouring through thousands of tweets trying to decipher the meaning of covfefe; the next you’re fighting back the urge to seriously fuck up your life because the threat of nuclear annihilation is too real and ever present. But then again, as a college student you will do and wish for just about anything to avoid finals.

“But, that’s where all my time is dedicated to: college. That booze soaked train, smelling of vomit, b-o, fear, and the occasional Taco Bell quesadilla. The train also only moves in one direction and to one destination: Anxietyville.

‘It’s the best time of your life though!’ Says every 40-50 year old man that hates their wife and would do anything to get their shit-head kid out of their house.

‘Timmy! Stop smoking weed in the basement, goddamnit.

‘But dad, you said it was okay’

‘No, I said it was okay only if you invited me and told mom it was her asshole boyfriend that was selling you this week ass grass. Did I ever tell you about the grass we smoked back when I was in college? Hot damn, what a great time’

Sorry for the tangent and back to our regularly scheduled program: In all honesty though, the past half year has been completely bonkers.

In January/late December, I arrived back into the United States by way of France and found it to be operating under the supervision of a 70 year-old infant and his band of ne’er-do-wells.

If that wasn’t enough torture, I found out that my past self signed my present self up for 4 8:30 AM classes (lots of numbers and word play but stay focused folks–it gets crazier). Needless to say that I was tired and ready for a nap everyday after noon.

But that’s what I’ve been up to, that and-

*A loud beeping sound begins to emanate from the gallery, getting louder and louder with each passing second*

Ladies and Gentlemen I thought we made it perfectly clear that no cell phones were allowed during the performance. Please shut-

*The WILB is cut off mid sentence by the piercing noise and the state and red drape backdrop disappear*

The same WILB wakes up in bed and rolls over to shut off the alarm clock. WILB sits up in bed and slumps over putting face in hand–wishing to go back to sleep, even for a moment.

The red numbers on the alarm clock cut through the darkness and declare: 6:00 AM.

Getting up from the bed reluctantly, WILB dresses and mumbles: “ugh time for work”