Marcus once told me he has no memory of what it feels like to not suffer. You’re exaggerating, I told him. He insisted he wasn’t. You are, I fought back. Everyone has one memory, at least.
Marcus concedes little. “Well, maybe I was happy for like a day or two.”
“Yeah, that’s it. So that’s that.” read more >>
After a year and a half of travel through Europe and North Africa, my money was gone by the time I got to Athens, Greece, in 1973… read more >>
They stood against the labor and delivery room wall, two men in their mid-thirties. Donald and Matt could have been twins, same above-average height, same dark “faux-hawk” haircut, and the same buff build… read more >>
House-sitting for your dad over winter break, we encounter our first VCR. No video stores exist yet. We watch all the movies stacked beside the TV in the spare bedroom (mostly Hitchcock). Then one night we trek across the fog-and-shadows campus to many-corridored Dwinelle Hall (home of film studies as well as classics, drama, rhetoric, linguistics, history and comparative literature)… read more >>
When I was a child, almost every weekend we would visit my grandmother in the Bronx… read more >>