UPDATE: If you’re reading this—or about to read this unsentimental critique of the modern corpo—may I recommend where you can continue to find my indisputably personal and mysteriously appealing writing??
Baggage: The World’s #1 Tote Bag Review Newsletter
Read, subscribe, and continue to divine why I even do this at all here.
If you’ve seen it worn on the streets you can be sure it’s on a second-hand online marketplace for the low. Or not. Take outdoor goods and activewear brand Patagonia’s Better Sweater vest, for example. A $99 polyester fleece garment worn both by suburbanites on brisk fall days…
UPDATE: If you’re reading this, know that I’m a good millennial and made the leap to, well, I better not say. Still, may I recommend where you can continue to find my indisputably personal and mysteriously appealing writing??
Baggage: The World’s #1 Tote Bag Review Newsletter
Read, subscribe, and continue to divine why I even do this at all here.
To talk about Breathless is, well, to talk about a lot. For an uncomplicated story made on a shoestring budget, Jean-Luc Godard’s debut film from 1960 shook cinematic and, perhaps it is not too much hyperbole to say so, visual…
UPDATE: If you’re reading this, know that I’m a good millennial and made the leap to, well, I better not say. Still, may I recommend where you can continue to find my indisputably personal and mysteriously appealing writing??
Baggage: The World’s #1 Tote Bag Review Newsletter
Read, subscribe, and continue to divine why I even do this at all here.
Can skateboarding films, do for the culture (or lifestyle or sport or whatever poly-tired attribute you deem it), that streetwear and skate-adjacent celebrities have? Giving skate videos a considered look as a distinct sub-genre of documentary film may afford it…
I met Kevin Barry in the fall of 2015. He’s an author and not exactly a recluse; certifiably Google-able. His personality, Irish, is warm, disarming, steeled. The result, perhaps, of the demands of publicity tours. Though in all odds, it was probably just an Irish thing.
That evening I was hosting a talk and reading at Greenlight Bookstore for Kevin to celebrate the American release of his novel “Beatlebone.” Accommodating yet garrulous, he held sway over the room and co-signed to my imprimatur to a degree.
That evening I was hosting a talk and reading at Greenlight Bookstore for Kevin…
Is Medium ephemeral, transient, or a more permanent sort of anchor in the seesawing sea of content? Hope so, since, this is where I can relay this admittedly brief update.
Newest York
- Surfing Far Rockaway in winter
- On the Central Park and Bronx Zoos
- I’m currently working on a piece on NYC’s Superfund sites which should be a part of the February issue
NEEDS&WANTS Paper
- I interviewed photographer Chi Modu for the cover story of the fourth issue
- My interview with graphic design/furniture/architecture artist Tom Hancocks will be the centerpiece to the forthcoming fifth issue
In lieu of a curated website, which, tbh, is tbd, here’s a rundown of pieces I’ve written and edited. These all being works that I wouldn’t exactly disparage immediately if someone were to ask me about them, and with the hope that, outside of what I write here on Medium, you find enjoyable.
fc
Complex
- How the 2015 U.S. Open Became a Fashion Show for Major Athletic and Ready-to-Wear Brands
- What is Afropunk?
- New York Times Says Amazon Is a Terrible Place to Work, Jeff Bezos Responds: “I Would Leave”
- What Is Resting B**** Face, Anyway?
The Webby Awards
New York City: 10.27.16.
It was raining and you could feel it through your layers, the wet finding its way through so-called imperables, seeping up and under until your bones felt a chill. So let’s say that’s why the rain is for poets what hamburgers are for certain American filmmakers: A cipher to express the state of the world. Some claim joy from it others die after prolonged exposure. How could you help but not notice the way the rain substituted for certain emotions? We’d all just seen “Moonlight” after all. *Note: Go see it and hope that it’s raining…
Who cares if it’s called “Breathing Light?”
We have about an hour before dinner and I’ve never been here before. Mom decides to forgo the galleries and, instead, get an iced tea and chill in the shade. She’s been driving my brother and I around Los Angeles all day: Up to Runyon Canyon, down to the thrift stores on Melrose, praying we don’t ask her to pull up somewhere new and spend more money. All while I try to give accurate directions, quietly self-shaming for not having a license.
We let her rest and go get our paid-entry stickers, LACMA spreading like a campus before us; so…
New York City: 10.19.16.
I read that piece on Greenland too. Not Eliot Weinberger but Elizabeth Kolbert. Or was he Iceland’s valise and she Greenland’s dispatcher? Basically, it’s melting. And what’s good for the Greenlanders is, at least in the short term, bad for everyone else. Now and forever. It’s supposed to be the last day of another “record-setting” heat wave. Two days of enjoyable, no-layers-required temps? It is the middle of October, after all. Walking down a Manhattan avenue, all the bars with TV’s are showing the third presidential debate. Walking past, one hears political remonstrating through the sighing…
New York City: 10.14.16.
The sun had not yet made it to the ravine of Broadway stretching north of Union Square. Looking left and right, passersby could see it flooding 5th and Park, and presumably, the avenues beyond, but here, people lingered on certain street corners, or moved sanguinely, standing in what little sunshine there was. It was a crowded marketplace for warmth. Walking north, one experienced the unusually gratifying feeling of having the sunlight reflect obliquely onto their face, temporarily, but acceptingly, blinding them. People aka Dudes, wearing shorts walked by care-free, noticing nothing.
