I wish I could pinpoint what exactly it is that keeps me coming back. Perhaps it’s the knowledge that Waffle House will welcome six bleary-eyed high school seniors who can’t help but order the entire menu on a Saturday night, just as it will welcome families the next day in their Sunday best and truckers who’ve driven across countless state lines the night after that.
When Twombly first looked up “sword fighting” on a whim and joined the Boston Armizare, she was the only woman in the club. She was determined to bring her hobby to a wider audience, however, and set out to show other women that they, too, can enjoy martial arts.
It was like this culinary cold war, a pissing contest for who’d eaten the weirdest animal appendage. I was hurt, not just because I had lost the war (my mom was never able to find frozen sheep penis at the grocery store, not even at Whole Foods), but because we were fighting it in the first place. What were we trying to prove? And to whom? Why?
"You don’t even dream of this shit,” he says. “You dream what is in your limits.” Suraj Yengde has spent his entire life doing the unimaginable: attending college in India, studying in England, pursuing a Ph.D. in South Africa, and, in 2016, coming to Harvard.
It’s stupid cold out today, this March morning with the sky frozen cloudless glacier-blue. The bitter wind and whining bagpipes of the Saint Patrick’s Day parade turns my face numb. I’m desperately clutching two slices of pizza, jostled to and fro among the low-slung buildings of South Boston.
"It’s students like you who have changed my entire perspective on the world, but aside from that, motivated me on a daily basis, making me reflect on my entire life."
Listen, I Don’t Think It Was Unreasonable For Me To Wear My Latex Bodysuit to Adult Night at Legoland
I assumed we were all here for the same reason—to capital-D Discover the power of sensual touch against the backdrop of thousands of tiny plastic bricks.