if this whole football thing doesn't work out,... →
a place where nothing ever happens.
The late, great John Morgan, echoing Talking Heads, once described former Tennessee and current Chiefs safety Eric Berry as “a place where nothing ever happens.” I had the good fortune to pay attention to safeties at the genesis my football-watching career. My brother would frustrate me to no end by picking off the go routes on my “PA Rollout” in NCAA 2007 because I never accounted for his...
as if randian objectivism weren't already an... →
but we could be safer, just for one day.
Say you’re in Hell, the capital-aitch version. Go ahead; some of you probably ought to think of it as practice. So you’re eating stone, drinking dirt, and withering beneath an agonizing flurry of torments of sophisticated irony. But then there’s a break in the clouds, so to speak. God, though He managed to create an otherwise completely satisfactory abyss of despair, has allowed one chink in...
i can feel it slowly drifting away from me.
I listened to Kanye West’s new record, My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy—just Fantasy from here on out, though calling it anything more than “the Kanye record” seems superfluous, really—for about a month between the time my friend burned a copy of it for me and the time I left for Italy. While I would’ve liked the album anyway, I did something selfish, stupid, and tremendously embarrassing a few...
minor existential difficulties. please read.
Can I admit something? Part of the reason why I wanted to organize the whole Top Ten list thing was, in addition to the (accurate) stated objective of seeing my friends’ reactions to their music and getting recommendations, was to see how my writing stacked up to theirs. Fortunately I feel that I was comfortably among the top two or three best lists—if I hadn’t been, it probably wouldn’t say...