The Kids

The Kids

These kids
with beards
and tight jeans
drink whiskey
till 4 a.m.
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Print it out and put it in your pocket

In honor of Poem In Your Pocket Day, here’s a short near-haiku I wrote sitting on the roof of a cabin in Maine, almost ten years ago.

The leaves follow
the logging trucks
like an afterthought.


On Influence: Starting and Stopping Cracks

Since it is shameless plug week at DUFL press, I thought I’d shamelessly plug an essay by my good friend, Greg Gerke,  on the Kenyon Review’s website. It’s a luminous, thoughtful essay about influences in art and what it means to create. Plus, Mr. Gerke discusses Rilke, William Gass, Wallace Stevens and Elizabeth Bishop, and God knows I love them all dearly. There are numerous passages I adore in the essay, but since I don’t want to ruin it for you, here are three: Read the rest of this entry »


After me, the flood

Sorry for the shameless plug. I wrote a piece for Guernica about the pre-revolution French elites who, when given the choice to pay higher taxes to save the state, instead dug their own graves and rendered the nation ungovernable.


Siren Call of the Open Road

My buddy Jordan Sullivan currently has a solo show up at Clic Gallery. This past Thursday, I attended the opening reception with DUFL’s own Anthony T.
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Andy

We’re inside now, and I am drunk, drunker than I can remember being. 12 drinks will do that. But I don’t feel drunk, I feel euphoric, and the dark bar is glowing and spinning like some broke-down merry-go around.

The music is blasting, and the people are dancing, the group of guys in the corner are yelling at the top of their lungs to Madonna, and the beautiful bartender with tattoos covering her body like spreading, wayward ivy is shuffling her feet behind the bar, and I pretend she’s looking me and desiring me with her eyes, but of course she’s not, she doesn’t even notice me.
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Dispatch from New Orleans: Snapshots of the Big Easy

I’m picked up from the airport, and we drive past palm trees and make our way to a backyard crawfish boil for somebody’s birthday. Everyone there’s from the midwest or the west coast. A bunch of people work in or with charter schools. I steer clear of political conversations.

Later, we’re on Frenchmen Street, which smells like Chinatown but more pungent. In Brooklyn, music is a young person’s game. Here, the ubiquitous music is played by the ancient ones, lines of life etched on their faces. Fueled by Abita Amber, nicotine, whiskey, and an hour’s worth of jet lag, we drink and dance and forge friendships that won’t stand the light of day. A girl’s pepper spray pistol is fired into the darkness of an empty park, and I taste its tang in my mouth.
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Parantha 3D

Attention, foodies in the New York City area.

Smorgasburg, the food market put on by Brooklyn Flea, opens tomorrow, Saturday, April 7, after a winter hiatus. It runs rain or shine from 11am-6pm at the East River Waterfront between North 6th and 7th. They have several new vendors this year, including one Parantha Alley.

Parantha Alley is run by Rajeev Yerneni and Retu Singla, parents of a student at my school. Neither Rajeev nor Retu are restauranteurs by trade, but as food truck aficionados, they had decided to try their hand at the food vendor business and were pleasantly surprised when they were accepted by Smorgasburg after a competitive admissions process.
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It’s Opening Day, Opening Day

Ogden Nash, again

Line-up for Yesterday

I is for Me,
Not a hard-hitting man,
But an outstanding all-time
Incurable fan.

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Old Philosophers Would have Known Ryan Leaf was a Bust or Ryan Leaf and the Marshmallow Test

Ryan Leaf Midway Through the Stanford Marshmallow Experiment

What could be a better measure of a man’s virtue than his quarterbacking ability? A quarterback has to exercise several kinds of intelligence, lead in the face of well-trained and motivated opposition, and appease a widely varied group of people off of the field. By comparing Ryan Leaf and Peyton Manning, we see many of the ways that western philosophers have been right about the characteristics necessary to be good quarterbacks and, by extension, good humans.
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