Category Archives: Uncategorized

Friday 09/29 2017
Memoirist Zack McDermott Wants to be the Gorilla in the Room for Mental Health Awareness

“Zack McDermott had his first major manic episode in over five years at a Taco Shop in his hometown of Wichita, Kansas. As the psychosis took hold, he laughed at patrons to their faces, inquired about purchasing his order via Apple Pay—something he knew, even in his semi-lucid state, they would not have—and, eventually, screamed obscenities at an employee while lying flat on his back in the rain-soaked parking lot.

Which is when his producers stepped in.”

Read the rest of my feature on McDermott in Paste Magazine

Friday 06/24 2016
Mind the Gap: Meditation, Athletes, and Mental Health

“The tennis player, the golfer, the free-throw taker or field-goal kicker or fustian batter with the bases loaded in the bottom of the ninth—all are under the kind of immense pressure from which our most precious natural resources are made, and those who transmute in the heat and weight are paid like the valuable commodity they are.”

Read the rest at VICE Sports

Tuesday 02/16 2016
Promethean Tar

“Knowledge is the accumulation of information, of facts, experiences, observations, theories, insights, leaps, falls, deaths, orders, rules, and screaming, bleeding schisms; it is something akin to the panel, to the pigment and joint compound atop the panel, to the swirling array of color and urgency and feeling, to the pouring over said array of a firm foundation, to the application, upon that foundation, of a million motions and painstaking efforts to create something beautiful, and for that something beautiful to, if not re-made over and over again, inevitably fade away to a ghost.”

Read the rest of my review of Erin Washington’s solo exhibition Useful Knowlege at New American Paintings

Sunday 02/8 2015
Drowning in Narcissus’ Pool

“Hearing Lucy think is … well, it’s something. Something frightening and breathless and arousing, in that way in which being taken of can be arousing. Lucy thinks as if a treadmill or dental drill were cognizant, a goal-oriented creature for whom base imperatives—run, lift, push, sweat, eat, DO—become mantras become axioms become catechisms. When she speaks, the gamefowl aggression of her inner monologue is driven like cortisone shots into those she is addressing. One can almost see the em dashes, protruding from chests and eyes and throats, after she has lit into them with that same voice with which Tracy Austin broke hearts and track coaches burst inseams.”

Read the rest of my review of Irvine Welsh’s The Sex Lives of Siamese Twins at Paste Magazine

Friday 01/23 2015
On Lines and Love: A Tennis/Art Investigation

“In its constant give and take, constant pushing up against its own boundaries, tennis is among our most nuanced contests. That so much of the competition is imperceptible and can only be captured in abstraction only makes it more apt for artistic treatment. There a few things so hypnotic as a world-class volley, eyes and heads and hearts and stomachs turning with the rhythm, and when the service is broken, we are still left with the shining winner and the sweat-soaked loser, down and out on the green grass of Wimbledon or the orange clay of Roland Garros.

Tennis is dignified in a way that boxing isn’t, and allows us to duel in a civilized manner, the pistols-at-dawn to boxing’s barroom brawl. In Nabokov’s masterpiece, Humbert only strikes Lolita once, a “tremendous backhand cut that caught her smack on her hot hard little cheekbone,” and Nabokov knew this was all it took.”

Read the rest at VICE Sports

Friday 01/16 2015
C’mon, Yellow Dog!

Editor’s note: This story was originally published in October 2013

“To see a greyhound run is a marvelous thing, as great and beautiful and natural as a thoroughbred and twice as funny. They are little bundles of lean muscle, with legs like parentheses, spines like S’s and the pointed snouts of a harpoon; when the gates open up and the lure races by, these parenthetical expressions come bounding out of the bunkerlike starter box, jowls peeled back in maniacal smiles, all turnover and pigeon head bob, decompression and re-compression, S to line segment, S to line segment.

These are the most ludicrous pictures of athleticism outside of professional wrestling, and there is some innate joy in it, on both sides of the convex low-def screen. It is beautiful and strange, and a full slate of races is hypnotic in its repetition and addictive for its brevity.”

Read the rest at The Classical or Salon

Monday 07/7 2014
Aluminum Swan

“John was all by himself. He had his own small verdant bubble in the hill endowed—and this is a big thing in Chicago, a hill!, and in the Pool Table Metropolis, no less—bucolic expanses of Lincoln Park playing fields which spreads, as damselfly wings, from Montrose Avenue, a pretty little rolling jewel, an edenic cushion for the dusty, still golden-toothed skull of Uptown to rest on, his lime green shirt echoing the incandescent centipedes of lightning flashing between the city’s northern skyline, and he was kicking into the air … something, a fat little alien ball apart from the other implements rolling or sailing about.”

Read the rest at VICE Sports

Saturday 09/28 2013
This is the title of the article

Port of miami (uhhh)
Importing the candy (uhhh)
Aint got nothign to lose (nah)
I’m just supporting my family
(push it to the limit)
Never traffic for fun (fun)
Only traffic for funds (funds)
All i seen is the sruggle (struggle)
Its like im trapped in this slum
(push it to the limit)
Niggas were badly paid
No water we barely bathed
Better be better days on the way
Thats on my daddy grave
(push it to the limit)
Im pushing the hard (hard)
Im pushing the soft (south)
If he pushin the white (lie)
He pushin for ross (ross)