Saturday, April 29, 2017
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Tickling your fancy since July 2006

Rachel Pollon Archive

Rachel Pollon

A Thousand Words: I Like This Photo Because My Hair Looks Really Good

August 28th, 2009
by Rachel Pollon


It was the night of my dear friend Clara’s birthday party. I can’t quite remember if it was a momentous year - a round number, the beginning of a new decade - but I do recall having party nerves and that I’d be going solo. I wasn’t seeing anyone at the time or, if I was, it wasn’t serious. Or maybe I was seeing Mark but he was out of town. None of these details matter, really. This essay is about me and how good I looked at Clara’s party.


Rachel Pollon

Just A Few Of The Lies I’ve Told That Will Prevent Me From Ever Becoming Vice President AKA My Charlie Gibson Interview

September 16th, 2008
by Rachel Pollon


Mr. Gibson requested that he be able to observe me in my natural habitat. Due to the relocation of my family members, and the dissolution of our family compound, this interview took place over two days at Solley’s Deli in Encino, California. A place my family and I inhabited frequently during my most formative years.

Mr. Gibson insisted on a relaxed and casual atmosphere. I showed up on time, but comfortable, in my usual ensemble – an American Apparel zip up hoodie in white, crewneck t-shirt in red, and sweat pants with the gathered ankle in navy blue.

The contents of this interview have been edited. All pauses and blinking removed for the sake of brevity.


Rachel Pollon

The Mind, It Wanders AKA High Standards

August 22nd, 2008
by Rachel Pollon


My boyfriend and I were driving home from the movies the other night. Which movie is not the point, but for the sake of setting the mood, it was a comedy and we laughed and we laughed.

The point is he’s got satellite radio in his car and he was flipping around to find something decent for us to listen to.

We tend toward a channel called Deep Tracks (AKA excuse to play understandably forgotten Emerson, Lake, and Palmer tunes) or Top Tracks (AKA excuse to play “Won’t Get Fooled Again” again, but with the benefit of really crisp acoustics.)

One can also find some decent comedy from time to time. And a hardcore rap show hosted by Ludacris. He and his partner swear and everything. We never listen to indie rock on satellite. I don’t know why.

Sometimes Mark turns to Hank’s Place, a channel that usually plays fine and classic country tunes. This time around, we found ourselves in the midst of a ditty with lyrics about getting old, and likening the aging dilemma to having the value of a precious, antique violin.

For reason that are probably apparent, Mark kept hitting the satellite radio remote, scrolling through our many other options to see what else we might find.


Rachel Pollon

Angel Cake

July 30th, 2008
by Rachel Pollon


Late afternoon, Hanalei Bay.
Lying around.
Reading Oprah. For the articles. Judge all you want.
Mark was surfing, off in the distance.

I was going through the book reviews, keeping an open mind.
There was an excerpt from a novel called The Secret Scripture: “We measure the importance of our days by those few angels we spy among us.”
It struck me. I couldn’t argue that it wouldn’t be a swell way to measure the importance of our days.

I was unexpectedly jarred from my O meditation.
“Excuse me,” I heard from behind me.
A young boy, of eleven or so, stood pointing in the direction just ahead, to an area in the sand between me and the ocean.
I followed the trajectory of his finger.
He continued, “Do you know who left that cake there?”