One of a Kind.
Walking northbound on Fifth Avenue after completing a late-night errand—the return of a banjo flight-case, nothing more nothing less, so don’t get any ideas— I found myself walking a few paces behind a group of four twenty-somethings, split down the middle gender-wise. My first observation was that they were adorable, double-dating hipsters. My second observation was that the...
RED MEAT: FRAGMENTS OF STESICHOROS
I. GERYON Geryon was a monster everything about him was red Put his snout out of the covers in the morning it was red How stiff the red landscape where his cattle scraped against Their hobbles in the red wind Burrowed himself down in the red dawn jelly of Geryon’s Dream Geryon’s dream began red then slipped out of the vat and ran Upsail broke silver shot up through his roots...
Let Us Now Praise Famous (Mad) Men
Brooklyn is my neighborhood
Never have Carson McCullers’ words resonated so deeply. I am home.
I’ve been yammering to everyone I know over the last 36 hours about the Microtel where I’m installed for these few days outside of Ann Arbor. What is it about a physical space that makes it seem utterly hopeless? Clearly, I am a bit behind the curve on making this sort of quasi-intellectual observation, as I’ve only begun to travel as a musician with (some) frequency in the last...