>Neurosurgery Confessionals

> I wrote this my freshman year of college for my writing class:  My dad wasn’t around much when I was younger because he was in his residency until he was 36. I can’t blame him  though, since he has to deal with life and death on an unparalleled basis.  This I came to understand… Continue reading >Neurosurgery Confessionals

>Skate Rounds to Brooklyn

> http://www.goskateorgohome.com/blog/The best thing about New York is the bridges. BMW, Brooklyn, Manhattan, Williamsburg, that’s how I remembered it, from south to north. It’s because they allow for interborough subway access, and we all know that public transportation is what really makes a city – that’s why L.A. sucks. I’m just kiddin’ L.A. I love… Continue reading >Skate Rounds to Brooklyn

>What is a Kunstleroman?

>I feel like an explanation is due. For those of you who never studied English literature in college, or who might have forgotten, a kunstleroman is the coming of age story of an artist (see “Kunstler-Hustle” below). This is much like a bildungsroman, which is an ordinary coming of age story.  Kunstleroman comes from the… Continue reading >What is a Kunstleroman?

>Kunstler-Hustle

> Our first date obviated all of the values and familial histories that are typically expostulated when two people are getting to know each other. Instead, we spent an awkward amount of time looking into each other’s eyes, or at least I did, which when she noticed, she tried to ignore and averted hers usually behind me,… Continue reading >Kunstler-Hustle

>They Can Touch The Heart Only By Bruising It

> You might be wondering what Dela was thinking about when she saw me. She knew Buckley and I were great friends, and that my family didn’t have the kind of money her ex-boyfriend had, that any kind of interaction with me besides a purely friendly one would never behoove her because though her family… Continue reading >They Can Touch The Heart Only By Bruising It

>An Annual Event

> The Bowery, being watchful, was loud and rough except at the hour when the halfway houses were serving dinner. A red brick building of six stories overviewed the southeast corner of first street, obligingly settled next to its northern neighbors. The other buildings on the street were varicolored, conscious of the usual discord and… Continue reading >An Annual Event