Posts Tagged: Where I Write

Weekend Rumpus Roundup

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On this warm weekend we are favored with a cool breath of fresh air from the likes of Matthew Lippman, via Michael Klein’s review of Lippman’s poetry collection, American Chew. Poems like these are refreshing in their honesty and bewitching simplicity—Lippman’s, in particular, “start outside the body,” Klein writes, “but they almost always end up inside it—gnawing at the conscious.”

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Self Portrait by Billy Burgos

Where I Write #27: A Small Bench Between Two 25 Story Buildings

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I was doing clerical work for a magazine publisher in a high-rise along the Wilshire corridor and each day I would take my one hour lunch on a small bench between two 25 story buildings. The proximity of all these tall structures created a vortex of wind that constantly combed through all these magnificent trees. One by one I had to know and then write about each individual Jacaranda, Magnolia and Floss Silk tree.

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WHERE I WRITE #16: In Storms

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With the exception of the four years I spent at a small college on the east coast, I’ve lived in Chicago all my life. Anyone who grew up in the Midwest, or spent any significant amount of time there in the oppressive heat of summer can tell you about at least one memorable storm.

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Where I Write #10: Nowhere, Everywhere

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Most often, I don’t. I watch basketball instead. I check my e-mail. I cook dinner and make love to my girlfriend and read magazine articles about the financial crisis. I move constantly, from Brooklyn, New York, to the Pacific coast of Mexico, to Portland, Oregon, to the rural South, to Portland again, and now to upstate New York, all in a period of a little over three years.

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WHERE I WRITE #1: Hotels, Highways, Hotspots, Haiti

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If I were independently wealthy, I would be less for it, because the chase for money to pay for food, shelter, babies, and now small children has taken me from sharing with two women an eighty square foot octagonal house originally built in the early twentieth century in rural Florida to house a wealthy child’s doll collection, to a room in a massive and mostly unoccupied schoolhouse converted into a lakefront hotel by the tax evading gangster Al Capone

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