{superlefty}

Who Is the Real Whore?

It continually surprises me that it continually surprises anyone that politicians screw whores. Or, for that matter, that they screw interns, movie stars, other men’s wives, their secretaries, their daughters’ friends, the women they meet at parties or the men they meet in public restrooms. They always have. They always will. Surely the jaded American […]

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Noise

Published elsewhere, specifically Identity Theory, March 31, 2009, and anthologized in Zine #1, Lake Celeste, or The Joy of Sex (2011).

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This is not my handgun. There are many others like it but this one is not mine.

I wanted to want to fire the gun. I wanted to be prepared for the revolution, when it came. I wanted to be an agent of praxis, the unity of theory and practice. I read about it in college, underlined, made notes in the margins. The theory was that we could liberate ourselves and overthrow […]

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Mexicana #1

I wondered how far we could go in Mexico, since it’s not really all that far away. I’d even taken the very same flight before, Mexicana #1. How far off the map could Mexicana #1 take us? Plenty, it turned out. My personal physician and I began our trip with four days of diving while […]

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The 11:11 to Penn Station, or Exodus

A piece about the exodus from my ancestral homeland, Long Island, published in The Morning News.

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Kirsten

In England, where for the first six months of the millennium I lived and ostensibly studied but largely smoked hash and enjoyed an unprecedented and never-to-be repeated dominance in intramural basketball, all the swans are the property of the Queen. Arcane British laws make it illegal to kill, eat, stuff and even transport the remains […]

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The Book of Weinstein

A very short Genesis of one particular Jew.

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Lake Celeste, or The Joy of Sex

First it was a lake, then it was a memory, then it became a blog post (2008), then it became an essay, published in Vol. 1 Brooklyn (2010), and then it became a zine, published by Julius Singer Press (2011).

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Happy New Year!

The ocean is my home. Can you find me?

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Death and Logarithms

One of my more difficult kids today, champion eye-roller, adenoidal whiner, one who feels the indignity of being sixteen more acutely than most and takes it out on me. Probably doesn’t even need a tutor, seems to pick up a decent understanding of the material from class, but highly unmotivated, vulnerable to that oldest of […]

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