2014 was a weird year. We traveled to North Dakota (I tweeted a lot), ran half a marathon, played a lot of ping pong, then graduated from Medill. Mike moved to New York, and Tim moved home. Through it all, one thing was constant—music. I saw
This isn’t a think piece about the Colbert Report’s final episode. Not another one. Not another summary of Stephen Colbert’s impact because we get it. He meant a lot, and, man, looking back, he did a lot. There was nothing like him, like that character.
It’s 12:49 a.m. and I want to write something. My computer is at nine percent battery, my charger is downstairs and I’m in bed. But you can’t not get the writing out. Ah, screw going back to change that double negative. Let’s rage against the
It takes a lot to get words out, when nobody is telling you what to do. It’s a long process. While you’re doing it, it’s damn hard. Let’s get a bit meta here about that last sentence. I decided “damn” would do when an f-bomb