I remember the night I decided to watch Aikatsu very well, like the back of my hand.

It was dark, a warm July night in the hood, not a cloud in the sky. My friend Henry and I were walking back to my apartment from Target. Even that far north, the city was alive with hustle. Short Hispanic men washed cars in the street. Kids played in an open ( Read more... )

In many ways, the death of Aikatsu reminds me of the death of Geauga Lake ( Read more... )