How Many More
I don’t know if you knew about the fear that permeated Toronto’s gay scene for years.
Desert Bloom
I mean the real world, the one that roots and flowers and rots and hunts and shivers and casts its eyes to the moon and howls and sinks into dirt and blushes into color.
Snapshots
We drove home and argued. Why was I so angry? About something so small? It’s not about that; it’s about the fact that I feel useless and nothing seems to be going the way it was supposed to go.
A Series of Honest Postcards
There is something about watching people pick out spaghetti sauce, and knowing they will cook and eat a meal together, leave dirty dishes in a sink together, that makes me ache.
Nothing Goes as Planned
Last fall, my much-delayed Megabus dropped me off in Chinatown at 2:30 a.m. I had seven percent battery life, four dollars in cash, and no idea how to get to Brooklyn.
La La Life
Mia, waitress, wants to be an actor; Sebastian, broke musician, wants to own a jazz club. But La La Land’s biggest tension happens outside the screen: an unspoken, unreferenced standoff between itself and the twenty-first century.
Family Portraits
In the evening we venture out into the city that she has called “the armpit of California” and find a place to procure some burritos. As we eat, Aunt Ellen tells me about her world travels.
Airport Purgatory
Of course, it’s unfair to judge a culture based on experiences in airport terminals.
The Comfort of Discontent
“I know this sounds potentially ungrateful, but I don’t really know if I see my work as significant.”
Disaster Diaries
But imagine what would happen to Los Angeles if an earthquake knocked out the electrical grid for a month. Plenty of hell can break loose in thirty desperate days.
