A mortifying sense of porousness.
Fewer American flags [in Brooklyn] than in Florida but more than in San Francisco.
'this is real. This life. We're really here - this is really happening. Suffering is real. When you hurt people, it's real. When you fuck one of our best friends, that's a real thing and it hurts me.
But why think the more reasons there were to sin, the smaller the sin was?
It wasn't like the spare rooms of immigrants––packed to the rafters with all that they have ever possessed, no matter how defective or damaged, mountains of odds and ends––that stand testament to the...
Was it wrong to hope to be happy?
Brute force outraged her, I think, because it was outside her beloved realm of language, and in response to it she really had nothing to say. Despite her revolutionary stylings I don't think my mother...
The Jackson gaffe, with its Oedipal violence (I want to cut his nuts out), is especially poignant because it goes to the heart of a generational conflict in the black community, concerning what we wil...
The Noted Activist
It was a journalist (it was always journalists these days), and she had something to read to him. She’d had a crash course in media relations since her exams, and dealing with them/it had taught her t...
The fundamental skill of all mothers—the management of time—was beyond her. She measured time in pages.
The golden age of Luncheon Vouchers ended ten yearsago. For ten years Mickey had been saying, The goldenage of Luncheon Vouchers is over. And that’s what Archieloved about O’Connell’s. Everything was...
And perhaps for my mother this dream was the truth, and just by dreaming it she felt she had brought it to pass.
Nine SPEAKING IN TONGUES The following is based on a lecture given at the New York Public Library in December 2008. 1
If these are ‘talents’ – the ability to sing, or to quickly comprehend and reproduce musical notation – what kind of a thing is ‘talent’? A commodity? A gift? A prize? A reward? For what?
In England, we once had an insulting name for such people: trimmers. In the mid-1600s, a trimmer was any politician who attempted to straddle the reviled middle ground between Cavalier and Roundhead,...
They didn't mean it to be like this. But it was like this. Both had other intentions. Howard had knocked on the door eight minutes ago, filled with hope, his heart loosened by music, his mind stunned...
Involved. At least that was the right word, Alsana reflected, as she liftes her foot off the pedal, and let the wheel spin a few times alone before coming to a squeaky halt. Sometimes, here in England...
It felt to me as if I were on a certain train, heading wherever it was people like me usually went...except now suddenly something was different. I'd been informed that I would be getting off at an un...
The story was the price you paid for the rhythm.
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