Last night, Tobin was Michael Jackson reincarnated, as Aidan and Cody crooned into their mics as well; their cadence was on point and full of harmony—so fresh and so clean went their vocals. This night at Jammin Java became one to remember, and you’ve missed out if you weren’t there for this up and coming funk band.
Vladimir Putin@urgurlvladtoseemepapa .18hr
Nabokov is a great writer, but there can be only one Vladimir.Read More
The alligator rushed forward at a rapid pace. I looked at Van. He looked at me.
Dad I love you with
everything I have.
Even though, I have
nothing to show,
nothing to give,
nothing to make you
proud of me. I’m sorry.
Her birthday fell on June 3rd, which was today, and she’d been dead for a year. I still couldn’t believe that we had her crematedRead More
Life isn't an eternity,
what I'm telling you is already known, known since there was a spider crawling up the staircase and your dad took the heel of his black dress shoe and dug his heel into that bug. And maybe I'm buggin’, but that bugged me, and now I'm trying to be healthier eating carrots like Bugs. Kale, red onions, and quinoa, as well. Because I want to be there for my sister, Vicki my sister. All we got is a wrapped-up box made from God, Mohammad, and Buddha.Read More
I try to be nice to people. I think Chris Rock said it. You need 2/3 things to succeed. Talent, hard work, and be nice to people. I’m nice to people. I care about comedy,Read More
“You see, people, especially ones who work in fancy offices, use white-out to correct the mistakes in their papers. They take the white-out pen and mark out all of the black characters away, making long, white streaks over the text, so that the mistake wasn't in there in the first place. Out with the black and replaced with the white.”Read More
So this is college? That frontier plateauing
before you can dive off a cloud? So this utopia
was a dollhouse, the daily on the doormat
camps in the hallway: waits while the child watches
Don’t apartments stand still? Are abstract paintings
and basketball supposed to nurture a city
Google: starving artist. Consider the picture for the starving artist: straight, white, male. Ask yourself: why are the envelopes in the mail box, are also always: straight white mail. Contemplate drinking wine during the day; red.Read More
Dad stood up from the couch and took the tuna melt sandwich out my hand. He went into the kitchen, got around the countertop, and opened up the trashcan. He dropped the tuna melt into the trash. “I don’t like tuna melt anymore.”Read More
“We were born in the middle of our family room as Bird’s sax undulated from a clean vinyl on an old record player, Dad—a Norwegian Poet—standing tall and proud in the background, recording the moment of time on a Super 8, and Mom screaming for Siddhartha Gautama between contractions. And as Mom—a beautiful Vietnamese woman—had taken in the fresh air from an open window, she mumbled passages from Kerouac’s Dharma Bums, as though they were from the Book of Genesis.”Read More
My older brother Jordan seemed normal this Thurs- day afternoon, when I saw him placing bets at the craps table in Maryland Live Casino. At least there, he thrived, even if success sometimes eluded his grasp. He pretty much lived in the kaleidoscopic building. One time, he brought a sleeping bag and raggedy pillow, and took a nap by the slot machines. He should have been kicked out by the bouncers, but Jordan charmed his way out of it, even managing a free jack and coke out of the ordeal. Even bummed a cigar, off one of the cocktail waitresses. That was Jordan, a charming guy. Nothing seemed to bother him. Nothing except for losing, which happened, often.Read More
We chew slowly and carefully,
the meal in front of us rests on a paper plate
—a sloppy joe, corns and peas,
slices of pear,
a single piece of cornbread.Read More