Emotional Weather Report
The two Jonathans
I once lived in a tiny basement apartment with a kind-hearted femme fatale who wore black leather and dyed her hair bright red. We might’ve been poor in funds, but we were rich in love.
Emotional Weather Report
The strung out ones and worse
It was the spring of 2005. I was getting ready to go into work and help Harold clean out Twice Told Books and move furniture into his new house.
Emotional Weather Report
The last long goodbye
Stalin, while teaching his soldiers the easiest, most brutal way to instill loyalty, took a perfectly healthy chicken and violently plucked out each and every one of its feathers.
Emotional Weather Report
They can kill you, but they can’t eat you
There was this kid I’ve known since high school: 22 years old, chronically unemployed and a month’s rent away from homelessness. His father drank himself to death.
