[photo by Randy Gordon-Gatica] ... Along with the virus, New York has been invaded by “the real” — an elusive concept. I was telling an old school New Yorker about an encounter I had at Coney Island once. Super hot day. My children we’re little. I was taking them on all the kiddie rides -- … Continue reading The Real
One night in the mid-90s, I walked into an ATM on 23rd and 6th Avenue where a man was sprawled out on the floor. It was two in the morning. His wallet was flipped open a few feet away from his open hand. He was looking up at the ceiling and seemed okay aside from … Continue reading Billy’s Topless
It's one of those days at work where I'm absolutely paralyzed. Hogtied. Brainfreeze. I can't do anything. So what do I do? I go to Google Street View. I take a drive in my childhood neighborhood in Jackson, Mississippi. Take a look at the old house. There it is. There's the lawn I mowed a … Continue reading Manhattan Academy
I was miserable. Living with my cousin in a cheap-ass apartment complex. Just living there in that shitty dump, I felt like I had hit the underside of the bottom. Something about those places always just feels like you’re in hell. They’re so cheap. Feels like you’re inside a cardboard box. They all have the … Continue reading Cedarstone
A few years ago ... before Cathy dumped me ... I was down in a swamp in Mississippi. I popped this squirrel out on a long branch, and it dropped like a wet rag into a clump of honeysuckle and briers so thick it was like a wall. I got down on my hands and … Continue reading The Voodoo Stick
This is a story my father told me about his youth in Kosciusko, Mississippi during the 1940s ... I’m gonna tell you about something that happened just about one block off the square to the west. There was a pool hall down there behind the building that was on the corner of the square. At … Continue reading Pool Halls and Mayor’s Courts
I’m always happy when something strikes me as “Southern.” My sister works in a retirement home in Ridgeland, Mississippi. A 95-year old resident gave her a little frosted-plastic, crystal-looking Christmas tree to sit on her mantle. Inside it, a soft glowing light gently cycles through the color spectrum. My sister said that the next time … Continue reading Southern Subjectivity
I experience a specific, subtle pleasure when I get off the subway taking my son to school in downtown Brooklyn. Our stop is Jay Street on the F. We exit onto Willoughby. When I first stood on that corner looking across the street at the big signs for CRICKET (former disposable cell phone store now … Continue reading Curious George City
I’m back in my beloved Hotel Monteleone. I fly back to Brooklyn in the morning. Instead of strolling over to Pirate’s Alley as I had intended, I never left the Carousel Bar downstairs. I clicked around a full 360 degrees four times, one tall Maker’s for each trip. In the mirror behind the bartender, I … Continue reading Down and Out in the Monteleone
