Recent talk of Nobel Prizes and god particles filled me with curiosity last week. Then again, I spend most of my day navigating the glamorous world of charred meat so it really doesn’t take much to astonish me these days
I am the proud owner of a dirty, mustard yellow Hamilton Beach Scovill blender circa your grandma’s house, early 80’s. She smokes up and makes the sound of a truck in desperate need of a new transmission..
I may or may not believe in the end days. It started with a Cormac McCarthy binge the summer that I got to New York and culminated into the night that superstorm Sandy arrived to the East Village.
In the winter of ‘99 I was with my platoon, sitting high atop an up-armored Humvee in body armor with a .50 Cal, cruising around small landmine infested and bullet riddled villages of northern Bosnia.