Joni & Jackson Hole
347 Words. 1 Minute Read.
The cabin next to mine was full of girls from northern California who were whitewater guides. I was in awe of them. They were beautiful, athletic, and had a way of living life that was different from anything I had seen in Georgia.
A Silent Movie in the East Village
862 Words. Three Minute Read.
You have to remember that we were all there voluntarily. No one forced us to sit through a film of this nature. I wasn’t taken at gun point by Gene Siskel. Sure, most of us probably didn’t know it would be that quiet, but by that point we were in it together. And truth to told, when someone tried to cover a sneeze or silence a yawn, it was, well ... sort of welcomed. Ninety minutes of silence is a long time.
A Record Player in New York
1,000 Words. 4 Minute Read.
Similar to antiquing, I see these records and think to myself that someone enthusiastically went to a record shop with this exact album in mind. They’d been obsessing over it for weeks, like any other music freak. They couldn’t wait to get back home and listen to it, maybe with friends at a cocktail party or by themselves on LSD with bulbous headphones. And now, all these years later, it’s in a Greenwich Village shop with thousands of others, each with its own story.
Harold Bloom and His Soothing Idiosyncrasies
295 Words. 1 Minute Read.
Absorbing the idiosyncratic tone of his voice feels like a cashmere blanket draped over your temporal lobes. His prose warms your innards like crackling hickory logs, and before you know it, the anxieties of life wilt away.
Museum Hopping in LA
1,460 Words. Six Minute Read.
And then it happens—the escalator delivers you into the light! Gone is the infernal darkness as you step into a madhouse of ethereal beauty and gargantuan works of art, like Mark Bradford’s Deep Blue, which is fifty feet long and twelve feet tall, and Jeff Koons’s seventeen-foot-long metallic Tulips. At this point, you’ve been in the museum for all of two seconds. It’s positively overwhelming.