by Adam | Sunday 28 September 2008
Based on an essay by Edmund Wilson. In Jackson Square, the spidermums, spotted in Newport ash, are blooming like supplicants. A pack of cougars, celebrating a second marriage at the Magnolia bakery, are flaunting plastic diadems. In Central Park,...
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by Adam | Thursday 25 September 2008
All day the stars watch from long ago my mother said I am going now when you are alone you will be all right whether or not you know you will know look at the old house in the...
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by Adam | Monday 15 September 2008
I telegraph mockingbird laughter back and ask him a last question.
“How are you?”
This is a question of paradox. It is the question of both an acolyte and an equalizer, something you'd ask an immortal mortal and his other, something that would be considered odd as part of any other valediction.
“I’m well,” he says. “Thank you. I’m very well.”
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by Adam | Wednesday 10 September 2008
Growing up, I was handed music like the Beatles, the Beach Boys, and Bob Dylan. It was music that furnished every cliché...defining of the era, the fulcrum upon which generations rested and turned, anthems that even a shoddy parent...
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by Adam | Monday 8 September 2008
My apologies for being out of touch lately, I've been working on larger, non-blog projects. An example of one: This is a subway ad for a new television series on CBS called The Mentalist. Apparently on this show, Simon Baker...
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