Sometimes we’re hit with the urge to write a sentence or make a sound that captures everything at once, the traffic lights and grand dramas playing across the city tonight, the thousands of bulbs over kitchen tables, the drowsy voice on the taxi radio saying there’s light rain at the airport and temperatures will be holding steady throughout the evening. Women putting on eyeliner in mirrors, the way they pull open their eyes and look so serious. “Another dead satellite will fall to Earth this weekend,” says a television in the other room. Rain on the streets, silhouettes sitting at windows, freighters on the dark ocean, and all those other purple Saturday night feelings. Sometimes you’re idling at an intersection or sitting on the edge of your bed and you want to capture the whole thing. Here’s a good song for this impulse, although it’s in Finnish and I don’t understand a word of it.
As Friday night began to roll, he recalled Heraclitus’s warning about ‘night walkers, magicians, priests of Bacchus, and mystery-mongers.’
New Orleans is home to jazz and government neglect and other American traditions.
“A tantalizing 21st Century cross between Let Us Now Praise Famous Men and On the Road, this remarkable and utterly original memoir heralds the arrival of a new and important American voice. The Road to Somewhere will take you places you will not easily forget.”
A man believed his only chance at justice was to take a hostage and march him downtown. An idealistic dancer packed the theater yet the city cast her out. A search for their ghosts continues beneath the city.
You’ve seen her before. She’s the old woman with her eyes closed on the bus, the one who sits alone on a bench for hours. At night she listens to the exhausted air conditioners that sound like the sea, tuning in to the city’s static like an old radio show.
The Former Desk of the First Office of the Bureau of Manufactured History was unveiled at a ceremony on the third of May and continues to appear in unexpected locations throughout Indianapolis.