i need an agent

the life and times of t. riley

a requiem for jump rope

You hear Iz The Wiz died? No one was paying attention. No more summer missions, we seem to have grown up when we weren't paying attention. No more rides along the Loop parkway looking for fresh KFT spots from the night before. Forgetting about SWV from the night before. I'll B. Sure. The Jazzy Prince and the Fresh Jeff. Handball courts and the Department of Parks & Recreation. The green leaf and nike swoosh were ubiquitous. Beers at the South Street Seaport getting crushed by oppressive heat. Crushed out on the Clearview spending half the night parked outside the building's lobby. Faces like we got magnets in our nose. Broke out after the birthday presents, didn't stick around to see what was beneath the wrapping paper. I blame everyone else but I'm sorry there's really no excuse for me. Baby baby baby I gotta so much love in me. F train from Kew Gardens. LIRR to forgetting where I left the car. Your radio plays the same four songs but we don't care. I have work in the morning but we don't care. Get lost in some corner while we're drunk down stairs. Windows rolled down on Southern State late at night no one on the road the humidity rolls through. Shaved my head started clean. Crack the spine blank page started clean. Graduated started clean. Polos and Jordans we got accustomed to having uniforms. Baby that's actual and factual. Buck jumps up to get beat down in Breezy Point after the dance but I just want to get into your apple juice, air max, and sorority girl pants. Backyards and porches you ain't gotta worry I'll drive you around drunk, zooted and giggling. Bleach blonde and tan skin. Brunette and tan skin. Red hair and fair skin. Undergrad matchmakers introduced to relatives who reward with B's on the front of my cap. Baby baby baby. Left behind. Letters from addresses I ain't even ask for. Typewritten words show so much thought and I never gave it much thought. Sittin' on the dock of the Sound listening to the bass pound. Beach by day beach by night. Walk through Garden City nearly alone while killing time to read some Fitzgerald. Dick and Nicole. Rosemary Hoyt. It's been good living with you. Fall asleep with the sun coming up. New Order's Substance is playing. Oh my baby Oh my baby. Tender was the night Iz the Wiz died.

what the world is waiting for....

july 5th aka good riddance to the colonies.

passin' me by

"Is it possible, it thinks, that we have not yet seen, known, or said anything real and important? Is it possible that we have had thousands of years to look, meditate, and record, and that we have let these these thousands of years slip away like a recess at school, when there is just enough time to eat your sandwich and an apple?
Yes it is possible."--Rilke

teabags part two

this sunday at the delancey....come out i'd love to see your beautiful face.

andre kertesz

How can I tell you that I love you, I love you
But I cant think of right words to say
I long to tell you that Im always thinking of you
Im always thinking of you, but my words
Just blow away, just blow away
It always ends up to one thing, honey
And I cant think of right words to say

safety pins

deleted scenes pt. 5 (weekend girls)

With precision I maneuver to the marker aisle and I am instantly intoxicated by the colors, from floor to ceiling, lining the walls. I test bright reds, sky blues, metal grays, and lemon yellows. I have about a half dozen colors still to test in my hand when I recall Joe’s instructions on how to slide the markers up the bulky jacket sleeves to hide them should you ever get caught by a teacher or a cop. I look over, first, my left shoulder, then, my right before slipping two up my sleeve and the elastic cuff seals against my wrist making a perfect arm length pocket. I’m impressed with how I’m able to do it one handed. I walk to the end of the aisle and then back again, scrutinizing the look of the jacket. I try to look at myself through an arbitrary pair eyes. I don’t see any extraordinary motion in the vibrant arms swinging back and forth. I’m convinced that the contraband is completely undetectable. I grab four more after much deliberation, declaring that the coast is, indeed, clear. I feel the cool metal markers rattle against the bare skin of my forearm as I walk towards the front of the store.
——————————
Tina gets up and excuses herself to go talk to her date Scott. He doesn’t go to St. Mary’s, he goes to Benjamin Cardoza High School in Bayside. He’s only a year younger but his naïve excitement from riding in a limousine makes it feel like I’m much older than him. He does seem pretty tough, though. I heard that Cardoza is no joke, a lot of crews have beef there and, apparently, there are fights in the halls all the time. He’s about my size but stockier in build, fuller shoulders, thicker arms, he looks like he’d be able to do some damage if he had to throw down. He has dark curly hair that’s piled atop his head that reminds me of a stuffed animal and gives him a gentle quality. We made conversation in the limo ride here as we played with the radio, weighing which hip-hop station had the best song on. We eventually settled on KISS FM.

I ask Angela if she wants to dance and she looks at me and says that she doesn’t like to but she wouldn’t mind if I wanted to ask someone else, then resumes her infatuation with a spot on the stiff white tablecloth. I start telling her that’s its ok because I’m not too fond of dancing myself but the whole time I’m speaking she rubbing at the stain, maybe from the pasta course at a previous wedding held at the hall, forcefully with her thumb. The finger is slender and the nail is long, as well, with a sharp arc at its crest and is surrounded at its base by skin turned bright pink from being chewed raw. She probably bit at the skin rather than destroy the nail she obviously put time and effort into grooming.

I finally get Angela to dance with me to a slow song. She's recounting the conversation she had earlier with Brother Rob. Her nervousness is causing her to talk quickly and ceaselessly. I squeeze her a little tighter because I want her to be quiet and enjoy the dance for what it is. I think to myself that she could be pretty cute. She has beautiful skin and a comforting smile but these features get overwhelmed and crowded to the side like someone small on a packed rush hour bus by her anxiety. I look over Angela’s left shoulder and catch Katherine looking at me as she dances with her date, Hector. The left side of her mouth curls up into a half smile and she looks away again just as the song ends. I wish she would look back over so I can smirk back but the d.j. announces that the cake is being served and I escort Angela back to our table.
——————————
Marc and I are driving back home down the Cross Island Parkway. It’s almost 11 p.m. and the hip-hop shows are starting on BLS, Kiss, and Hot-97. He’s speeding through the dial checking all of them trying to decide which song he likes best. He eventually settles on the oldies station because The Spinners are on. There’s no traffic, its like all of Queens knew how quickly I wanted to get out of Whitestone.
I finally can’t hold it in anymore, “so that was really fucking weird.”
“Yeah what the fuck are potatoes au gratin anyway?”
“No man, what the fuck was up with that power to people speech she gave us?”
“Oh yeah…that.”
“Are you kidding? I wanted to crawl out of my skin. Why do you think I was in the bathroom for fifteen minutes in the middle of dinner?”
“I thought it was those fucked up potatoes.”
I start laughing, “are you serious?”
“No man. I mean she’s fucked up but the thing with her is that she thinks she’s doing the right thing.”
“The right thing would be to not marry a fucking racist.”
“Yeah I guess. I can’t really hate on her though because she doesn’t know what’s going on. And, incidentally, Frank’s down…so someone is doing something right in that house.”
“Doesn’t it drive you nuts that the only time you’ve been invited over for dinner is when his dad is away on business?”
“Man, if I let everyone who was like that bother me, and believe me I’m surrounded by them at Saint Mary’s, I’d totally hate myself because eventually their ideas would start to set in. Like an infection or some shit.”
“I guess…”
“At least she tried. Plus my mom was making meatloaf tonight and I hate that shit.”

ninety-three until...

he was like a magician, he'd put his markers in his starter hat and always pull out fresh burners.