I. Dad, in his white undershirt and gym shorts, asked to speak with me one night. I didn’t think much of this; he often wished me goodnight with an “I […]
Founded in 1977 at Columbia University's School of the Arts
I. Dad, in his white undershirt and gym shorts, asked to speak with me one night. I didn’t think much of this; he often wished me goodnight with an “I […]
I find that I can no longer recall the pitch of his voice, precisely, only those words on which it halted.
I turn and face Bill Murray. You, I say. You leave in the morning. Bill Murray looks at me as if I’m beyond saving.
A Man’s Old-Water Soul Town Clarence stands out back burning the carbons of old checkbooks, watching the ashes tell tales about how he’s spent his life: A boat that his […]
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