An Uong is a writer living in New England and Los Angeles. Her work is forthcoming or has appeared in Catapult, Eater, Roads and Kingdoms, Winter Tangerine, Wildness by Platypus Press, and elsewhere. She can’t say no to a bowl of bún bò Huế. Find her online: @anuonganuong.
Six ascending notes on a xylophone was the dream sequence that called me to our family’s TV throughout my childhood. Mysterious and otherworldly, the jingle promised a new misadventure in magic every time. A guitar solo followed, with Sabrina the Teenage Witch appearing across the screen in bubbly pink letters. Friday evenings were spent this way: sitting cross-legged in front of the TV and basking in Sabrina’s bubbliness.
West Side Recycling was a windowless cavern of abandoned metal and purchased recyclables. It was painted in three fat stripes of red, white and blue that encircled the squat building. In the distance, Griffith Park’s hills looked like a movie backdrop: crisp, never-ending, ready to swallow. The strip of sidewalk in front of the building was often filled with people dividing recyclables into aluminum, glass or plastic.