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My name is Devan Coggan. I am 20 years old, and I am a journalism major at Northwestern University. I am originally from St. Louis.
Sometimes I blog about stuff.


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  1. "February" by Margaret Atwood

    Winter. Time to eat fat
    and watch hockey. In the pewter mornings, the cat,
    a black fur sausage with yellow
    Houdini eyes, jumps up on the bed and tries
    to get onto my head. It’s his
    way of telling whether or not I’m dead.
    If I’m not, he wants to be scratched; if I am
    He’ll think of something. He settles
    on my chest, breathing his breath of
    burped-up meat and musty sofas,
    purring like a washboard. Some other tomcat,
    not yet a capon, has been spraying our front door,
    declaring war. It’s all about sex and territory,
    which are what will finish us off
    in the long run. Some cat owners around here
    should snip a few testicles. If we wise
    hominids were sensible, we’d do that too,
    or eat our young, like sharks.
    But it’s love that does us in. Over and over
    Again, He shoots, he scores! and famine
    crouches in the bedsheets, ambushing the pulsing
    eiderdown, and the windchill factor hits
    thirty below, and the pollution pours
    out of our chimneys to keep us warm.
    February, month of despair,
    with a skewered heart in the centre.
    I think dire thoughts, and lust for French fries
    with a splash of vinegar.
    Cat, enough of your greedy whining
    and your small pink bumhole.
    Off my face! You’re the life principle,
    more or less, so get going
    on a little optimism around here.
    Get rid of death. Celebrate increase. Make it be spring.

  2. Going through old issues of Northwestern’s yearbook for a story I’m working on. Looking good, Seth. Looking real good.

    Going through old issues of Northwestern’s yearbook for a story I’m working on. Looking good, Seth. Looking real good.

  3. "So today I found out that among the underclassmen, I’m known as ‘The Doctor.’ No one knows who I am… They just say I’m the guy who looks like David Tennant. My life is validated."
    — Texts from my brother.
  4. There are a few great mysteries in this world, but the greatest and most mysterious mystery of all is this: Who built my grandmother’s house, and why did they pick brown unicorn-monkey-leopard-poodle wallpaper?

  5. It feels good to be writing again. This quarter, I’ve worked as the TV columnist for The Current, the arts and entertainment supplement of The Daily Northwestern. I’ve worked at The Daily since the first week of my freshman year, but I’ve spent the past few years editing and fact-checking. My grasp of AP style and grammar is better than ever, but it’s nice to be typing my own words instead of marking other people’s words with a red pen.

    Writing about TV is more challenging than I thought it would be. On one hand, I get to rant about a topic I love. On the other hand, it’s difficult to resist writing just another episode recap that’s only interesting to people who have watched the show. I’ve tried to write each column so that it would appeal to both long-time fans and people who’ve never heard of the shows I’m mentioning — which is harder than it sounds. I’ve been free to write about everything from “Sleepy Hollow" to "Saturday Night Live,” but this week’s column about the best show on television was definitely the most fun to write. Any time I get to write about Benedict Cumberbatch is fine by me.