Everywhere where there is a professor is a classroom, including the 2-train on the way out of Brooklyn. [...] The real lesson happened somewhere in Downtown Brooklyn, when the prof. started telling cautionary anecdotes about “shedding the changes” …
...read more here
He doesn’t appreciate reciprocity. He told me that he was intimidated by me, that he was almost scared to say what he wanted to say. In so many words, he accused me of forcing him to (wait for it… ) think before he speaks. That’s an accusation I can wear as a badge of honor.
...read more here
Do you mind if I’m a little fragmented today?… Oh man, I don’t even know how to excerpt this post because I have no idea what it’s about! Sorry… forgive me… I’ll be cohesive tomorrow, I promise.
...read more here
At the same time, I could see myself, only white and balding and fifteen years older, holding on tightly to someone else’s kids, to a metrocard, to a pillow, to a job, to an inanimate intangible thing, to a blogroll, to a bottle of alcohol… to a guitar student who can’t pay for her lessons…
...read more hereI had some perfume but did not need it; I already reeked of brightness. There were little tiny magnets pouring out of my pores. I’m so ready…
...read more hereTomorrow is another day, isn’t it? Another day to do all the things I could have done today… just as long as I don’t beat myself up about it. I’ve found that I’m awfully fond of beating myself up about things and then not learning anything from the beating… Just as soon as I get it through my head that a New Yorker never ever has an excuse to do nothing, I’ll be all right.
...read more hereHarlem is a place, a man, and a mistake.
Harlem the Mistake was a horrible mistake and an embarrassing one. It’s what happens when you do something truly stupid, with no justification…
...read more here
