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I bought coffee with quarters this morning, having blown all of my capital on pints of Stella and a long, foggy cab ride home from Brooklyn. I’m currently nursing a thundering headache where my skull connects to my spine, and choking back the mini puke gathering in the back of my throat. None of which…

It’s about four in the afternoon. I’m in the corner conference room 29 floors above Times Square. The UN General Assembly building peaks through the skyscrapers down 45th Street. Black sheets of rain are blowing in from the west. The conversation is periodically interrupted by flashes of lightening and claps of thunder. I duck out…

I heard it more than once this evening: “We’re all sinners here.” And saints, of course. Just as every cop’s a criminal. Fortunately, when you’re in a family of sinners, at least you’re keeping good company. What’s it all mean? Lemme’ try and explain. Hmmmmm, where to start? Ok, last night. I leave the windows…

I thought I had the job. It was the spring of 1996. I was writing freelance for Rolling Stone Online for fifty bucks an article. I’d graduated from Syracuse’s Newhouse School of Communications two years prior. I’d been in New York City less than six months. I was green. Like, flourescent green. I was dizzy…

I’ll take Manhattan in a garbage bag with Latin written on it that says, ‘It’s hard to give a shit these days.’ Don’t let the Fantasy Island get up or Lou Reed lyrics fool ya’: I just wasn’t made for these times, or this place. But that won’t stop me. I moved to New York…

Ten years in my Hell’s Kitchen apartment and only this afternoon I discover roof access? How is that possible? New York, New York: Big City of Anonymity. Last night’s Tribeca Film Festival offering was a documentary called, “James Benning: Circling The Light.” It painstakingly chronicled avant garde filmmaker James Benning’s creative process. Basically, Benning believes…