July 17, 2010
My father was the napkin you find wadded in your pocket the next morning, no name on it, the ink smeared, the penultimate digit illegible, something on the corner that might either be lipstick or blood. My father was the smell of old man and America in summer—new-mown grass and well-oiled leather, the sweet scent [...]
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June 22, 2010
But really, what good can the individual do in the current democratic model? Past, of course–what did she want from Trader Joe’s? Some knishes, yes, but what else?–voting, donating time and money to those causes the individual supports, attempting through involvement in groups of like-minded persons to make the single voice a chorus, but–shit, and [...]
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