Author: Nicole DiGiose

The Two-Legged Dog

Posted on by Nicole DiGiose

One of my older stories that I wrote as a child. It was originally hand-written on Thanksgiving 2001. Shortly after, I typed it up and saved it (this story has traveled through many computers). I did some editing not long ago. I figured I’d post it on here for some opinions.

It all began one afternoon as I rested on the back porch. When I heard the door slam, I raised my chin from my paws and breathed in the cool air. Bill carried a cage with a cloth over it out of the old, rusty pickup truck. His boots whirled up the crunchy leaves as his feet stomped down the hill. A strange bark came from within the cage — it sounded like Betty when she saw a rat. What we really needed around the house was a good ol’ cat. I came out from beneath my blanket and trotted down the wooden steps to investigate.

Bill opened the gate on the pen out in the field, pulled it shut, then set the cage on the ground. He knelt down, swung it open, and stood back. He placed his hands on his hips as he peered into the cage.

“Come on,” he said, calm but serious. Read More

Tokalu

Posted on by Nicole DiGiose

My mother hated that sound. The sound of the gun. It excited me. My tongue dangled out of my mouth and my ears perked up more than usual. My sister Winona and I would scramble toward it. If it caught our mother, Imala, by surprise, she scattered to the den. When Winona and I were kits, we weren’t allowed to venture into town near the people, their dogs, and the gun to watch the greyhounds race. Our mother didn’t like the idea of us wandering over there — even as young adult foxes. When we were kits, Winona and I would sometimes sneak out when our mother was hunting. But we couldn’t outfox her. She often caught us. She’d lecture us, ramble on about how people are nothing but selfish, inconsiderate, evil-hearted monkeys who believe they rule all land, water, and skies. Our father was shot and killed by a fully-clothed man, who most likely shot him for his fur. He succeeded with the help of his hound dog. Winona and I never met him. We were born shortly after he left this world. When we were older and about ready to be on our own, we did what we wanted. I was often out of the den, journeying somewhere. Mom pretended not to worry when I strayed off and told me she wanted me to go out and do my own thing, but her nervous habits gave her away. When I told her I was leaving the den, she’d pace, her bushy tail would hang stiff. She’d avoid the subject of my father altogether, even though it was the one thing on her mind whenever I or Winona left the den. It was me she worried about the most. Winona never went too far. My mother didn’t want me to be alone. Sometimes she’d ask if I’d met any nice vixens to settle down with. But I doubted any vixen would be interested in the things I liked to do. If they were all like my mother and sister, I thought. Read More

The Buffalo Theory

Posted on by Nicole DiGiose

What does it take to get Purchase College students grooving? A soulful and catchy beat that can only be perfected by one of the college’s up and coming bands, The Buffalo Theory.

One stop in the Student Center or in front of Theater X to check out The Buffalo Theory has students hypnotized in its funky movement. It’s normal to see students jiving in the crowd, caught under the rhythmical spell.

The Buffalo Theory is made up of studio composition major, Jared Martin on vocals, arts management major, Joey Doino on drums, studio production major, Dan Berry on guitar, studio production major, Nash Kocur on bass, and jazz/piano performance major, Mike Zeffiro on keys. The horn section includes  jazz/trumpet performance major, Nick Fields on trumpet, jazz performance major, Eric Jellison also on trumpet, saxophone/jazz performance major, John Troy on the saxophone, and jazz performance major, August Cook on bari sax. Read More

Leila

Posted on by Nicole DiGiose

Every few weeks you can find a crowd of Purchase College students in the Food Co-Op waiting to sing along with singer-songwriter, Leila Hegazy.

The sophomore majoring in studio composition from Staten Island says she chose to come to Purchase instead of her number one choice, Berklee College of Music, because it was the smartest financial decision. She says that it’s great because the campus is friendly and she gets to do what she loves.

Hegazy’s singing began when she was a child. “I enjoyed singing as a kid. I made up songs in the shower.” She smiles. “I sang about glue and crayons and teddy bears. I also enjoyed singing in front of people.” Read More

Summer Shenanigans

Posted on by Nicole DiGiose

It was the summer after eighth grade and we were bored. The afternoon’s heavy air kept us from working on our tree fort, which was made of wooden boards that we stole from a construction sight down the road with my father’s wheelbarrow. New houses were being built in the neighborhood, and we didn’t want them there anyway. All the places we played manhunt or paintball in on the weekends and in the summers were being replaced with fancy homes and long driveways. It only made sense to slow down the process by stealing the workers’ slabs of wood when they went to grab lunch from the deli around the corner. Every day they went at the same time, like clockwork, and we were teenage geniuses.

Our tree fort leaned against a thick tree trunk, tucked in the middle of the green woods behind my house in the suburbs outside of New York City. It was the only woods left in our little town, from what I could see. We sat, sweating on the crooked benches made from slabs of wood. My twin brother Cory, and our neighbors, Evan and Rachel, who were siblings, spoke about the upcoming school year as I doodled on the uneven walls around us with a black marker. Like me, Cory and Evan were going into ninth grade, and Rachel was going into seventh.

Evan glanced over at me a few times before shouting, “What are you doing?” He folded his fat arms and his lips grew into a smirk.

I slammed a hand over my creation. “You can’t see it yet.”

“You know I’m just going to scribble over it like I did to the rest of your stupid drawings,” Cory said. We locked eyes of the same shade of brown. “You’re making the fort look stupid.”

“I bet it’s another drawing of Dylan.” Rachel grinned at me as she tied her frizzy hair up with a rubber band.

“No!” I threw my hands into the air, revealing my masterpiece.

“What did I tell you?” Rachel said proudly.

“I don’t get why you like that kid anyway,” Evan laughed. “He doesn’t shower.”

“I don’t like him!” I stamped a sneaker into the dirt.

“Just admit it,” Cory said.

“No.”

“Just say it, Leah. Then you can stop drawing all of your Dylan fantasies all over the fort,” my brother said, wiping his forehead.

“It’s not a Dylan drawing this time! And the only reason I drew Dylan before is because he’s fun to draw.”

Evan began making kissing sounds and I felt the color of embarrassment make its way across my face. Read More

The Purchase Independent

Posted on by Nicole DiGiose

An article I wrote for my journalism class in February 2010.

Students on the Purchase College campus have recently noticed a change in their weekly newspaper, The Purchase Independent. It hasn’t been as satisfying to them as many of the previous issues have been.

From the seniors who have been flipping through The Purchase Independent every Thursday to the curious crowds of freshmen, their talk about the beloved college publication is the same: The Indy is lacking material to write about.

Editor-in-chief, Mariel Loveland, a senior Creative Writing major from New Jersey says that it isn’t only The Purchase Independent that is struggling for stories to cover, but the college’s online news source, The Brick, also does not have much to write about. She says it’s because many Purchase students do not want to be involved in campus activities, and therefore, nothing much happens on campus.

“There also aren’t many people who are interested in writing for the newspapers here. Everybody would rather be drinking and partying,” Loveland says. “The Purchase Independent is like a community, we’re all really close and very accepting. People don’t understand that you don’t have to write.” She says that there are also layout positions, and that you don’t have to be a part of the newspaper to submit your articles, comics, or anything else that is considered intriguing to the student body. Read More

Nerdy Jock

Posted on by Nicole DiGiose

An interview of a classmate in my journalism class (February 2010).

Scott Duwe, a 21-year-old journalism major is half jock and half geek. He’s come a long way to stand where he is, being that SUNY Purchase is the third college the Long Islander has attended.

Compared to SUNY Farmingdale and University at Buffalo, Duwe says, “Purchase is really chill, really small. That’s why I like it.” He also says that unlike his previous schools, Purchase offers great Journalism classes, and pursuing a career in Journalism was always something he was drawn to do.

“Sports are my life and my passion,” Duwe says. “I’ve been a ticket plan holder for the Yankees for years. I go to about 10 to 15 games a year.” He dreams of one day being a sports broadcaster. Although he has no specific favorite sport, he says, “Baseball is my favorite sport to play, and I’d like to cover it.” Remaining a true sports fan to his state, he says that his three favorite sports teams are the New York Yankees, the New York Rangers, and the New York Jets. “I live and die with my teams,” he says.

“I’m a jock when it comes to sports, but I really am a nerd. I’m just a big geek.” He shares that the first word he had spoken wasn’t the typical “mama” or “daddy,” but instead, “turtle.” As a toddler, Duwe was a fan of the cartoon that aired on television in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. He says that Raphael is still his favorite character from the show. Next to the turtles, he also enjoyed Power Rangers. To this day, he still catches some episodes by downloading them off of the internet. Read More

Illuminated Stripes

Posted on by Nicole DiGiose

An interview I covered for The Submission Magazine in December 2009.

See pictures at http://www.TheSubmission.net, Issue 26.

Ding! The doors rumble as they slide open and I follow Jeff Gardner into the elevator of the Neuberger Museum. I’ve heard about his design, Illuminated Stripes, but was not expecting such vivid color. Jeff, in his heavy jacket, smiles as my eyes explore the flashy column of colors on the back wall. Deep blue rests on yellows, oranges, reds, and purples that are stacked on bright green. Similar colors race up the dark panels as streaks of light. Jeff looks amused as the gray doors clash together, forming in large, white, vertical print: Neuberger Museum of Art.

Neuberger_Museum_Elevator.jpg

The $3,800 project began with pulling the measurements from all of the wall panels, in order to install the vibrant ones. Jeff jokes that if Oxford Color, the vinyl printing company, didn’t hang the panels, it wouldn’t have looked as good because he wasn’t sure how to do it.  He focuses on the humming lights above us and points. He and some classmates deconstructed them, cleaned the dusty glass panels in the ceiling, and by himself, set up the lighting exactly the way he had it planned out.  I am mind-boggled as he explains the technicalities of the plexiglass strips that are dazzling the walls with color.

“They are 2.5 inches by 95 inches.” He presses a hand on the wall while still making eye contact and explains, “the reason for the dimensions are because behind the strips are little indents that are all separate panels, it’s not a continuous wall.”  He goes on to say that the lighting strips he used are paper-thin strips of LED lighting that he ordered from China. They were $4.45 per linear foot there, which is much cheaper than Port Chester’s $17.00 per strip. After receiving the lights, he figured out the amperage to effectively brighten up the elevator. Each strip needs only one amp of power, and the lights put out 12 volts of energy.

Jeff takes a step back and inspects the floor, his palms face upward as he outstretches his arms. The floor was never in the original budget, but his design wouldn’t be complete without vinyl flooring.  He, along with some help, put the hickory vinyl plank flooring together. “One of the interns that work at the museum and I were in here for four and a half hours on our knees, peeling and sticking,” he says, imitating the movements of peeling and sticking with his hands.

Read More

Snow Globe Quest

Posted on by Nicole DiGiose

The snow drifted sideways on the other side of the living room window that was dressed in a kaleidoscope of lights, nestled in garland. My eyes followed Caleb’s truck as it plowed down the powdered street away from my house. He had gotten his license not long ago. During the drive to my house, he drove carelessly as he sung the wrong words to the radio through the clouds of thick smoke that we both exhaled. I wasn’t sure whether to blame the swaying of his truck on his lack of driving skills or the fact that he was high. I told him to chill out because the roads looked slippery, but before I could finish my sentence, he glared at me with heavy pink eyes as he pulled up to the side of my house and told me that I was hallucinating because he was the best driver in the world. I jabbed him in the shoulder, called him an asshole and got out of the truck.

Aaron, a dorky kid I’ve been friends with since elementary school, was at Caleb’s house with us earlier. When Caleb tossed his little bag of weed on the table, Aaron looked uncomfortable and suddenly needed to pick up his sister from work.  He wanted to have a study session to study for our final exams that were coming up before winter break, but Caleb’s new habit, or as Aaron called it, “his new phase,” distracted us. With all of the new experiences and changes in our lives, the three of us weren’t handling our first semester of college well. Especially Caleb. He barely made it out of high school. He graduated because they wanted to get rid of the schmuck.

As I closed the blinds, my cell phone vibrated across the dresser beneath me. When I went to grab it, I lost my balance and knocked over the Christmas decorations my mother set up on the dresser. I  knelt down beside some stupid looking smiling snowman and a posed plastic reindeer sticking its ass in the air and placed them back on the dresser. Aaron sent me a text asking about homework for our history class. I jabbed at the letters on my screen with my thumbs on my phone’s keyboard, picked up the snow globe spiraling around the wooden floor, and placed it on the red and white cloth that laid over the dresser. When I shut the ceiling fan light, the green glow of the nightlight reflected off the walls. I stumbled through the hallway that smelled of pine and went to bed.

I dreamed of colors. Frozen blue flickered into shimmering purple, shimmering purple blinked and I saw icy white.

I couldn’t breathe.

When I woke up, I was lying on my back in the snow, but I wasn’t cold. I was warm. I held my breath. I didn’t try to breathe because I knew that I couldn’t. I gripped what felt like handfuls of sand. I felt my heart accelerate. I had to breathe—I tried to fight it but I couldn’t. I opened my lips and a cool rush of moist air plunged its way down my throat. I screamed nothing.

My body felt relaxed.

But I couldn’t move. I breathed heavily, staring up ahead, but I didn’t even know what I was looking at.

My fingers tickled the white that was sprinkled around me, and when I looked at my palms, shiny diamond-shaped glitter glistened off of them. It had a bright purple tint that stung my eyes after looking at it for more than a few seconds.

I rubbed the back of my hands across my eyes before I got to my feet. That’s when I noticed I was barefoot and in my blue plaid boxers, wearing my white t-shirt. That was what I wore to bed the night before. I brushed back the hair in my face and had a look around.

“What the hell is goin’ on?”

I squinted my eyes.

I stepped through the snow that didn’t crunch, but swirled up to my knees then fluttered back to the ground. I was caught off guard when I heard a bark. I hesitated before turning around. When I did, I focused on a gray and white, wolf-like dog. Its bushy tail curled over its back and its ears stood straight up. It wore a wreath around its neck and attached to its red harness was a green sleigh. I stared at the dog, alert in the distance.

“The hell is that dog doing?” I mumbled to myself. “What do you want?”

The dog sniffed the air. A growl rumbled from its chest.

“Come here,” he demanded.

I leaped back, dumbfounded. Then I laughed and held my head. “Holy shit am I high.”

The mutt came prowling toward me. I bolted away but didn’t get far. I smashed into a foggy slab of glass. I laid flat on my back and began gasping for air when I realized where I was as my fearful eyes crawled up the curved wall. The dog wearing a wreath dragging a sleigh, the purple-tinted sprinkles of snow, the curved wall. I was in the snow globe on the dresser in my living room. I saw the top of the bookshelf through the foggy glass wall. It was enormous. I got to my feet and pressed my sticky hands against the glass. I saw the couch down below. It was 10 times its size. I touched my knees, my legs, my ankles, my torso, my face.

My body had shrunk.

I heard the scrape of the sleigh and the rattle of the dog’s paws close in on me. I sprung around, arms outstretched, knees slightly bent.

“Kodiak!”

The dog stopped in his tracks. His blue eyes shot to the side, but his muscular body still pointed at me. I glanced over to see what he was looking at and felt my heart clobber my chest.  A polar bear wearing a red scarf began to gallop over to us. I felt my confused body give up and I planted my face in the shimmering snow. Read More