I was sitting there, years ago, making you a mix-tape. Probably the last one I’d ever make. Time and technology were moving ahead, and I was quickly becoming the last of my kind. My […]

I was sitting there, years ago, making you a mix-tape. Probably the last one I’d ever make. Time and technology were moving ahead, and I was quickly becoming the last of my kind. My […]
NOTE: Riot Fest was a two-day music festival featuring styles and genres from the Violent Femmes to Public Enemy. Three cities, Toronto, Chicago, and Denver, hosted the event. The big news was that The […]
In the summer of 1999, my brother bought a pair of camouflage, old skool Vans from a skate shop in Pennsylvania not far from where my aunt and uncle have a house. He […]
With President Barack Obama getting a second lease in The White House, it was a historical week for the whole nation. But with over sixty houses burning in Breezy Point and the subways flooded, it […]
Picasso never had a “black and white” period. These paintings only represent the two poles scattered throughout the various movements of his art. His return and re-return to black and white exemplifies a principle Picasso held dear.
What separated him from any other writer I had ever read is his undeniable honesty, his childlike perspective on the world; and how we, as citizens of a chaotic country, develop mental callouses that prevent us from admitting our flaws and insecurities.
The industry is against me; they’re only about sales and regurgitating the same garbage! It’s not recycling if it’s still trash!
When my mom complained he’d just take his pack of Marlboro Reds into the garage. But this didn’t keep us away. My dad barely spent any time home and when he did we were determined to follow him everywhere. Besides, he was usually doing something interesting that we didn’t want to miss like scaling a fish or gutting a freshly caught squid.
The subway stop at 181st Street was an odd place to see a ladybug. She boarded the train and flew directly to perch on the edge of my upended book. I stayed very still, staring at the shiny red and black of her wings, while she rested there. After a few minutes I gently moved the book into a flat position on my lap, and she obliged me by crawling over the lip and onto the surface. I put my hand in front of her for protection against any jostling that might shake her.
There is something to be said for a change of environment. For the past couple of weeks my writing has been stuck, stagnant. The answer was to get away. I am a creature of habit. […]
I heard Leonard Cohen for the first time at Top Fuel, a small coffee shop in Hollywood on Sunset Boulevard. He sang like stars across the sky, soaring through the jukebox, like a million birds […]
Friday, October 17, 2008 After my doctor’s appointment, I got on the train. (I had a biopsy done on my neck and now I must wait three days for the results.) I don’t want to […]