Contact Us

Let us hear from you. Send an email to melissahpierson@gmail.com when you’d like to get in touch.

         

123 Street Avenue, City Town, 99999

(123) 555-6789

email@address.com

 

You can set your address, phone number, email and site description in the settings tab.
Link to read me page with more information.

It's Nelly's World

Eternal Questions

alec vanderboom

Imagining a literature composed of nothing but questions, one sees the potential for depth, resonances, that cannot be reached by other means. Questions echo. They ask for the reader to enter their space; they embrace, not distance. Maybe someday I write something using nothing but questions. Maybe it will qualify as literature. But not today. This is just a list of questions.


Why does Nelly insist on kissing me, vigorously and annoyingly, on the face while I'm trying to do a downward dog asana?

What's with all these ladybugs?

Why is gas so much cheaper in New Jersey? (Is it a conspiracy to keep their disproportionate numbers of SUVs on the road?)

And why is it against the law to pump it yourself there? I mean, what's going to get hurt?

Why did the New York Times decide to make the paper narrower, thus eliminating some of its content, and then decide to blow up the table of contents so that it now spans three pages and eliminates the content there, too?

What profession should I practice now that people will no longer be able to afford books because they have to spend every cent they have at the grocery store and gas station?

What is all that product filling the tables at Barnes & Noble?

Why do dogs hump people?

Why can't days be 36 hours?

Where does our daily increasing population live while no one is buying new houses anymore?

Why do people insist on thinking that if their dogs never taste fresh meat they won't ever want to kill anything?

Why do people drive Ford Explorers?

Why, in the middle of one of the country's largest apple-producing states, are the only organic apples available at the store flown in from New Zealand?

Why is it always one of your favorite socks (rarely one of the ones that never fit quite right) that goes into the laundry room's black hole--and has anyone ever found this cache of a billion orphan socks?

Why does Nelly scream as if the world is coming to an end when I leave her home or in the car, but when we're out on the trail, no distance is too far to be separated?

What the hell was that that she rolled in yesterday??