No. 85 - Signs of Aging
540 Words. 2 Minute Read.
If I’m being honest, there are a few other signs of aging, and I’m not talking about my daily nap, the fact that I need readers (especially in dimly lit restaurants—TURN ON THE DAMN LIGHTS!), or the pretzel-like stretches I use to relieve my lower back pain.
No. 84 - A Walk on 5th Avenue
429 Words. 2 Minute Read.
I crossed over 54th and saw a homeless man. His posture was oddly reminiscent of an ancient Roman, lying on his side with his back against the wall of the University Club—impossible to ignore, erupting with curiosities.
No. 83 - Perspective in Chicago
1,354 Words. 6 Minute Read.
As I write this, I’m sitting in row 38 on a 737 at O’Hare going zero miles per hour. Row 38 is the very last one with seats that don’t recline because you share a wall with the lavatory – a thin wall, I might add. I thought the fuselage exploded when the first person flushed the commode. I’m not kidding, I about had a damn heart attack.
No. 82 - Runnin’ & Gunnin’ in NYC
925 Words. 4 Minute Read
I’ve met poets, playwrights, media personalities, bankers, architects, lawyers, journalists, haberdashers, professors, nonprofit directors, academics, actors, musicians, ministers, restaurateurs, anarchists, Marxists, and a variety of intellectuals and entrepreneurs. 45 days in the greatest city in the world. And I am exhausted. The Big Apple got its pound of flesh. How arrogant to believe I would be the exception to the rule.
No. 81 - Cuban Cigars in Midtown Manhattan
1,271 Words. 5 Minute Read.
I’ve also heard rumors of a cloth satchel that holds the actual seeds of Cuba’s most valuable export. This national treasure is locked behind a ten-ton steel door at the base of a mountain, guarded around the clock by illiterate mercenaries in flip-flops and track shorts. Inside the satchel is the byproduct of years of crossbreeding scientifically engineered variations of the leafy seed of God.