Monthly Archives: May 2014

Thursday 05/29 2014
Army Mules Soldier On

“The Palisades Parkway is a Xanax dosed diamondback of a road, a lazily winding main vein carrying commuters away from the glitz and grime pumping, razor-toothed heart of Gotham and the vast, logo glutted corporate campuses and industrial parks of its immediate environs; heavily wooded, the morning sun slats through the naked trees, causing the roadway to resemble a printer’s test sheet, large raptors wheel overhead, and except for the glimpses, easily visible in the mid-December verdant doffing, of palatial houses perched upon the rollicking woods, one can easily forget the largest metropolitan area in America is a mere stone’s throw away. Eventually, even these last, vestigial elements of the cosmopolitan give way, replaced by boulder-strewn hillside, and by the time one reaches Highland Falls, the Bear Mountain Bridge yawning in the ochre, what passes for burghal would be considered quaint by most any standards. Up here, where the broad Hudson River finds itself impeded upon and pinched by Constitution Island and a jutting spur on the western shore, could be considered Washington Irving country, incredibly old and wonderfully virgin at the same time, evoking images of fearless colonists and Headless Horsemen, shoes with buckles, reading by candlelight, and the rhythmic cloping of horse’s hooves on blood orange autumn days. “

Read the full article at Sports on Earth

Tuesday 05/27 2014
Talking to the Holy Ghost in her Bugatti

“She is built like a clarinet, couture lean with a slight flaring at the hips, an effect enhanced by the fact that she is dressed head to toe in blacks of various shades–midnight shirt with stark grays and whites saluting rapper Gunplay, jet tights clinging desperately to her legs, ink and charcoal Nikes on her feet, her kohl eyes framed on one side by a Cimmerian cascade that encompasses hints from mahogany to raven to heather not only by virtue of the way the light falls upon it but also by the way her underlying skin shows through on the patch she has taken a razor to, trimmed tight to her parietal–which are then shot through, like Whistler’s Nocturne in Black and Gold: The Falling Rocket, with colors, soft purple sea urchin on the shoes, spider threads of gold supporting necklaces or composing hoops, canary nails on her fingertips and a face, oval with low zygomatics, featuring a pair of Hockney red lips that are leaving an echo of themselves on the plastic lid of her Americano.”

Read the full article at VICE

Sunday 05/25 2014
Born to Skate

“Beyond that first push, the wraithlike quiet with which skaters approach speeds of 40 mph lends the sport a hypnotic, surreal quality when seen up close, each one alighting fleetingly against the opaque ribbon, as close as mortals get to Mercurial motion.”

Read the full article at Sports on Earth

Sunday 05/25 2014
Under the Sea

“Still, this is a fitting way to arrive in what’s perhaps the most amorphous civic entity in America; Orlando does not exist in the public consciousness as a city much as it does as a pair of anthropomorphized Mickey Mouse ears, perhaps being worn by a young Shaquille O’Neal. It is a conglomeration of brands, driven now not by a tourism industry but a tourism of industry. It’s a glittering dreamscape in a land once dominated by swamps, a Floridian city-state that does not avail itself of the state’s considerable geographical amenities, but which owes its very existence, in its present form, mainly to being cheap land and far enough from the coast to minimize the dangers of hurricane season. Before Walt Disney arrived, it was a citrus city, then an in-land tourist destination, and then a military city; now, it features more imagineering feats per square mile than any other place on earth, more flavors and facades and gasp-inducing examples of architectural whimsy. It sees more dreams and hopes and tears and laughs made concrete than perhaps any place before or since.”

Read the full article at The Classical

Sunday 05/25 2014
Elevate, Simba: Geopolitics, Economic Warfare and the Big Ten/ACC Challenge

“The War Room consisted of one jet black, 52-inch, high-definition Samsung television, its cable receiver, subwoofer, and stereo sound system—whose two-tiny-boxes-upon-poles, positioned as they are so that noises they emit creep in from your peripherals, at first listening put your war correspondent on such edge that one would have thought they were heads on a pike rather than pretty benign pieces of quality home entertainment equipment—paired in conjunction with twin blonde pine fold out TV tray tables, one of which bore an embarrassingly new MacBook Airwhile the other played host to your correspondent’s loose leaf array of notes and official, custom made Big Ten/ACC Challenge schedule/score card, which prominently featured a rendering of dueling squids, your correspondent’s semi-adroit allegory (the dueling cephalopod’s possession of eight arms apiece2 rather than the perfect-game mirroring five, which would have put my fathoms-deep struggle amongst Trailblazers logo-like levels of quasi-abstract hoops inspired art works3) for the basketball struggles being taken in, on both the large and small screens, from a rocking chair roughly twice as old as your correspondent.”

Read the rest of my David Foster Wallace tribute at The Classical

Sunday 05/25 2014
Rolling Thunder

“Derby nicknames are often supremely clever or delightfully vulgar. They can be subversive, ridiculous, salacious and are, as a whole, excellent, perhaps the most enjoyable collections of puns available anywhere. They extend to skater numbers, coaches, officials and derby-centric media members, and the very best of them read as a conflation of P. G. Wodehouse and Ghostface Killah. A representative sampling: Alpha Q. Up; Beth Amphetamine; Nasty Nikki Nightstick; Heavy Flo; Hyper Lynx (number 404, natch); Hell Vetica Black; Queen Loseyateefa; Ghetto Fabu-lez; and my personal favorites, belle RIGHT hooks, Olivia Shootin’ John and Sintripetal Force.”

Read the full article at Sports on Earth

Thursday 05/22 2014
To Be Galactus

“But mania! Oh fucking good Lord God, when the manic swings come along? Then I am Everything. I fight tears of euphoria; I am sexuality personified, intelligence and wit made manifest; I am the light in the darkness and the darkness. I am, and this is very clear, the Greatest Writer Who Has Ever Lived. I am beyond Richard Sherman, beyond even Kanye West. The air is thin up there, and intoxicating. When I am there, I am nothing but ego, no filters, no public relations inhibitions and machinations. It is like living in a Tom Wolfe paragraph—one of those hot, buzzing, electric, alive, incandescent neon tube buzzing pink paragraphs—or, if the mania tacks darker, a Bret Easton Ellis run on. I place upon my head that ludicrous plumb teapot of a helmet that Galactus wears, and the Universe is mine, to hold, to crush, to devour, to effect myself upon.”

Read the rest at The Classical

Wednesday 05/21 2014
White Light/Heavy Heat

“The problem lies in my dispassion for the Hermetic; I do not care, as so many guitar worshippers do, to gather the disparate threadbare strings of the various genres and sub genres and supremely archaic, one-vinyl-printing-ever-in-a-Lower-East-Side-flop-house, heroin-powder-in-the grooves, endlessly influential yet seldom heard (the fuck?) LP and follow them, as Theseus did, out of the Labyrinth; I would rather dance in the sunshine and salted Mediterranean air, never darkening the entry way of Daedalus’ convolution to begin with, and if that causes the six string slurpers, didactics, crusty Brahmins, and genuflectors gathered at the base of the Rock to believe me a Cretan, then so be it.”

Read the rest of my review of The Velvet Underground’s White Light/White Heat [Deluxe Edition] at The Line of Best Fit

Wednesday 05/21 2014
Far in Right

“And he would be so goddamn far afield out there too, deeper in right than a slow pitch outfielder, more conservative and cavalier than the Cavaliers were it not for his outsized influence, his Jovian—oof; fuck; one is just going to have believe me that this is not a reference to our man-on-the-edge’s corpulence, and that said corpulence will only be brought up again later in a revelatory, not derogatory light, and leave it at that, because, honestly, Jovian is the word here—predominance in American culture, his brilliantly caustic mind and savant-like savvy for messaging.”

Read the rest of my review of Gabriel Sherman’s The Loudest Voice in the Room: How the Brilliant, Bombastic Roger Ailes Built Fox News – And Divided a Country in Paste 

Wednesday 05/21 2014
A Peek Inside the Life of the Real Mrs Kanye West

“I am standing beneath an enormous lobster, thinking about David Foster Wallace and how good Klonopin tastes, and it is 3:30, which I feel quantifies Mrs. West’s directions to meet her at 41st and Seventh at ” around 3/4″. I shoot her a text to let her know I am beneath the crustacean.”

Read the rest at VICE