Mark J. Chiusano

The Lamont Garden

I did get to the Lamont garden once. I’d just come out of an exam, last term, in the winter.

Pawn Shop

I went down to the pawn shop the other day. Casa de empeños, it said. Can I have the belt buckle back, I said? It used to be my father’s, and I never told him I pawned it. I didn’t tell them that.

Jazz and the Past

Instead of ending with Chuck Berry, let’s let Mr. Marsalis talk to us too about Radiohead and the Roots. Let’s let him demonstrate his beliefs and knowledge in a positive, and therefore constructive, sense.

The Tree

I thought I remembered always going to Marine Park to get our Christmas tree—sawdust on the ground, a pile of old cut-up trees in the corner of the parking lot, which would stay there until spring, when the Parks Department trucked them away: same weekend they dragged the baseball fields—but I guess we hadn't been there in a year or two, and three's a pattern for my mother, a math teacher.

A Story

I was walking through City Hall Park the other day, just to stretch my legs.

Losing, in Three Parts (continued)

Crimson FM Chair Mark J. Chiusano offers the fan's perspective on last Saturday's loss to Princeton.

Losing, in Three Parts (continued)

Crimson FM Chair Mark J. Chiusano offers the fan's perspective on last Saturday's loss to Princeton.

Losing, in Three Parts

I.

Final Fantasy: An Imaginative History

Let’s imagine (briefly, briefly) that there comes a month reeking of better weather when the graduate boards of all the ...

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend

I’m starting to feel just a little abused like a coffee machine in an office. This is pathetic and sardonic. ...

You could smell the rain from here, the water on the window, people going by in heavy coats and windbreakers and inside-out umbrellas. You said wouldn’t it be a great idea to invent one that could be blown inside-out and still work. I said that was your million-dollar idea. You put your feet up on the table and said, billions.

Inside, we hung our clothes up just everywhere, over desks, on the top of lamps, off the edges of bookshelves. They were too damp to drip, everything just soaked into the wood.

The cars on the highway sounded like waves.

The mist accumulated in your hair so that when you went to swipe it back, I got the droplets in my face. We were walking, but with the water down our noses it felt like swimming, like we were doing laps. You were a faster swimmer than I was.

It was one of those days with the rain off the river.

River Rain

River Rain, An FM Sketch: Written by Mark J. Chiusano, Illustrated by Sally K. Scopa