The last few months have proven just how fragile our collective concept of reality can be.
I pretended to love Ashley. I was great at convincing everyone, including myself.
The story of the PS General Slocum, a ship that sank in Manhattan's East River one night in 1904.
Revisiting Dyker Heights and its history 30 years after living there.
Let’s make fun of a professor.
Dragging the streets to destroy what was lost along the way.
The Quibbits’ are unhappy with Splice Today for sending a writer to profile them. Now they’ve done their own.
Revisiting the area around the Park Avenue viaduct.
Invisible monsters and maroon clouds and conversion vans.
The pandemic and the riots haven't quelled a bigger problem: avian misogyny.
Astoria was named for a man who apparently never set foot in it.
It's almost as if he never existed.
Paleocon Diary (#230).
Depeche Mode and a higher power.
Beyond the haze of fear and boredom.
Paleocon Diary (#229).
If you’re not spraying, you’re not playing.
Translation by Jun Cola.
Miller was a restless whirlwind of contradictions.
Paleocon Diary (#228)
Nearly nine hours, this is part one of a three part complete reading of the 1973 novel. If you're still in quarantine, or stuck in a police barricade, it's a perfect way to pass the time!
A conversation with Charlie Rose.
Five poems from a new collection for sale here.
Writing and recording poems every week for a newborn daughter.
Dad was a humble giant, at least to his five sons.
I’m an old cowhand.
As a teenager, I was a walking zit.
The brilliant Absolut Vodka advertising hustle of the late-1980s.