In the nine months I’ve been on blogging hiatus, a nostalgia for the 1990s has gathered steam. Madison Avenue engineered much of this wistfulness with its campaigns for the 20th anniversaries of Nevermind and Achtung Baby. Throughout September and October, the Bedford Avenue L train stop—aka New York City’s hipster ground zero—was plastered with circus […]
I remember reading the word for the first time and chewing it like a piece of perfectly done steak: gestalt. It had come out of the mouth of Richard Patrick, frontman of Filter. It was in one of those very mid-’90s, sound-bitey to the point of being fetishistic “light” news sections in Rolling Stone or SPIN. […]
I was around 18 when I first read that famous quote that’s often attributed to Elvis Costello—”Writing about music is like dancing about architecture; it’s a really stupid thing to want to do.” I was likely hanging ten in my childhood bedroom, head buried in a Rolling Stone, naive to the fact that a bespectacled […]
A tornado walloped Brooklyn last night, and on the bus ride home it hit me that for the first time in my adult life, I'm having fun writing. This realization sprang not from the electrical currents in the air but from the simple fact I'm reliving the most painful moments of my creative expression from a safe distance.
It's one of my most annoying traits: I'm a novelist, but not a great lover of many novels, especially anything post-1960.
Many people can isolate the exact moment when the spark took flight and, voila, they were in love, attached to another being unconditionally. A similar dynamic played out when I listened to The Clash after Lester Bangs educated me.
This eponymous blog is an attempt not just to say the things I didn't quite manage to spit out in my book but also to reveal a process: the knitting together of disparate influences into a message, that is, a book.