Tag: this year 2025
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December 17th: Lily Grimes
Today was supposed to be tomorrow—or I guess today could have been yesterday—or rather yesterday could have been today. I wake up at five thirty AM. The house is quiet. Two housemates, also grad students, are gone for winter break. The other, a high school math teacher, whose room is across the hall from mine,…
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November 30th: Harrison Blake
I. 8am.The cat on the porch is alive.The cat inside nudges my hand like a dead bird. Her name is Theodora.She begs the corpse for breakfastThis time of day I’m no good at anything—I fill her bowl with brown pelletsuntil they tumble on the wooden floor. Her secret language consists chieflyof requests.Two years…
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November 13th: Anna Lockhart
I wake up to my neighbor’s alarm. When I was moving into my apartment, this neighbor waved at me in the hallway and said to knock against our shared bedroom wall if she was ever being too loud. I said, “Will do!” knowing full well I won’t do, would never do, you couldn’t pay me…
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November 3: Rae Phoenix Grant Duff
7:41am: I’ve really enjoyed reading the other Big Table Press entries this year. When I signed up I had no idea what I would be up to on November 3rd, 2025. My intention with documenting this day in my life is to be unfiltered. As a chronically ill person, I don’t live a conventionally paced…
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October 21st: Abby Rollins
This day begins with light. It casts shadows against the thick oatmeal curtains that dress my bedroom window: shadow of leaves on the Ficus that wraps around this corner of the house; shadow of the picture of my dear and dead friend I keep behind the curtain on the windowsill for the days when I…
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October 9th: Mandy Pennington
It’s still dark when my eyes open. My husband, Brent, feels me stir under the covers. He snuggles up behind me and gives me an instinctive squeeze. I stretch my hand over the coolness of our sheets and let myself absorb the warmth he’s throwing. My alarm hasn’t gone off yet. “You’re up early,” he…
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October 1st: Roberto BF
My day begins before I am out of bed. There are too many dreams to count or remember, but each leaves me more stressed than the last. Stress is a signal that helps us attend to threats. In this case, the threat is self-generated. The call is coming from inside the house. My brain is…
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September 20th: Nicole Marcelino
B likes to tell people that Saturdays are heilig for me. They’d be “holy” for you, too, if you spent nearly eleven hours on public transit to and from work every week. And that’s if Deutsche Bahn is punctual. When asked about my professional life, it’s my only complaint. Otherwise, I love everything about my…
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September 15th: Allegra Kaplan
I’ve forgotten that this is my “day,” and so the morning rolls out as it usually has for me this summer—sans the spectre of observation hanging over me. Except that’s not really true at all, because I’ve gotten into the habit of “sleeping in” (read: going on my phone) for hours after I wake these…
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September 4th: David Chritton
I wake up no worse than yesterday. This is true at least in terms of bodily discomfort—I have mild covid, uninterestingly—but it may also be true morally, I don’t know. I have emails to write. Analysis, Thermodynamics, Medieval Lit, Chinese 4—a whole host of unexcused absences, since the student health center said I could go…