michael priebe

Before that fateful day last fall, I’d never completely understood the very real emotional turmoil that could be attached to the phrase “I got a bad haircut.” I usually dismissed that complaint as melodrama from women. Maybe I’d worried a bit about my hair in grade school and then high school—back when impressing the opposite sex seemed like a worldly and weighty concern—but as adulthood came around and life’s considerations became more complex, I saw hair complaints as somet

As someone who likes to write, I tend to have a love-hate relationship with irony. Recognizing irony provides a lot of good manuscript material, but it can also veer into the realm of depressing. I guess most of the time irony is like a best friend who makes great jokes and gives needed companionship but is always draining my energy with pessimism or depleting my resources with requests for my hard-earned money. It takes work to be happy in this world, and sometimes it seems