Harris Sockel

Cotton balls in the sky!

It was a photography project that consumed most of his life, at least for 365 days.

I dreamt that my MacBook’s trackpad was a vagina and every time I touched it, it snapped shut and broke my forefinger.

You are just particles of energy, pieces and pieces of divinity lumped together from God knows what.

“DO YOU WANT TO BE IN MILLION OF WOMMENS SCREENSAVERS?”

English majors. Paperback-sniffing, semicolon-slinging, hairy-hearted mystics of the collegiate pantheon.

Persistence is severely underrated.

Reading Moby-Dick is “a bit like being stoned,” and it also “evokes an Asperger’s air.”

Forget about your goals. Goals are for complainers.

Don’t you hear it? Literally every time you text me, my iPhone plays a feeble recording of a death knell.

Speaking of men with matching blazers, there’s nothing as majestically awkward as twelve male Ivy Leaguers dancing around while faintly intoning some indie pop gem.

It’s amazing how many things we learn in school that hide themselves in our heads, like stingrays in the sand, until something happens and they come to the surface.