I've Never Related To The Work Geek

I Prefer Old Books And Find Them More Relevant. I Dislike New Books. It's Like Drinking Wine That's Not Ready.

Life Is Fundamentally Up For Grabs

Some People Have Things Written All Over Their Faces; The Big Guy Had A Couple Of Words Misspelled In Crayon On His.

How Often Had That Hydrant Even Been Opened? Did You Jet Water Through A Car Window, What, Twice At Best? Summer Burned Just A Few Afternoons Long, In The End. As For Flying, Dose Never Even Glanced At The Sky. Flying Was A Summer Within A Summer, A Whim. So Why Think Of It At All?

Apparently Brooklyn Needn't Always Push Itself To Be Something Else, Something Conscious And Anxious, Something Pointed Toward Manhattan.... Brooklyn Might Sometimes Also Be Pleased, As Here On Flatbush, To Be Its Grubby, Enduring Self.