The Archives
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City Life
The Bridge
“Babylon had her hanging gardens, Egypt her pyramids, Athens her Acropolis, Rome her Athenaeum; so Brooklyn has her Bridge.”
–Sign from a Brooklyn store window.
125 years ago today, the first of many New York feet walked upon the Brooklyn Bridge. Fittingly, the feet for this feat belonged to Emily Roebling, though officially only the daughter-in-law of […] -
Fragments, Micro-Fiction
“Untitled Fragment #9″
Eric and Melissa held on the handles, their eyes lazily resting on each other, but not exactly looking at one another. The train eased on comfortably attached to the side of the Williamsburg Bridge. It was, to be sure, the ugliest bridge that crossed the East River and was bookended by some of the ugliest part of both boroughs. -
Micro-Fiction
“The Bass Player”
The irony here is that I’ve mapped the journey out based on a series of Starbucks’. The first one is but a block from my apartment, the second is four and a half blocks in front of that one, and the third–by far the biggest–is six blocks forward from the one before it. When you […]
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Micro-Fiction
“The Grind”
He didn’t remember ever sweating so much in October. Or his glasses getting so foggy. The subway station’s walls themselves seemed to be sweating, their lights getting foggy. His coat was like an oven, an oven that stuck to his back and his elbows. Damn it was hot. His natural inclination was to pace back […]
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Micro-Fiction
“John and Esther”
04.13.08 | Permalink | 2 CommentsJohn referred to himself as a newspaper atheist; he believed that any two stories in any newspaper could easily prove the random-ness of life and, thus the non-existence of a higher power. That he had thrown up three times this “morning”(he hadn’t really gone to sleep since leaving the bar), and now had stumbled eight […]
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Micro-Fiction
“A Savior”
They say there were about five at the first meeting. And then ten, then fifteen. When I finally attended one, we stood packed shoulder to shoulder in the small Brooklyn basement. The man himself wasn’t very tall and his voice, for as far as it had traveled, wasn’t very loud. I spent most of that […]
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Micro-Fiction
“Last week”
His cane had a tiny gorilla-like figurine mounted on it’s top, making it trendy, making it funny, making it ironic. But Sam hadn’t enjoyed scrounging through the thrift-shop this time. Nor did he enjoy having to use a cane. Or limping. She was (barely) genteel enough of a New Yorker to walk a little slower […]
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Micro-Fiction
“Five Dollars”
He had never been able to say it so honestly. No, I don’t have any spare change. The homeless man kept walking, his head down, almost defeated. John wondered if that was what he had looked like a half-hour ago, when the ATM told him “no”. It was a breezy night in the city, but […]
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Micro-Fiction
“Brooklyn Heights”
She wasn’t particularly ‘Beautiful’, that has to be said. But, see, now you’re thinking of that one person you met long ago who has since defined an ugly female for you, but forget her! She doesn’t come close to explaining the wonderful complexity of my Jamie. Yes, her face isn’t symmetrical, but some of us […]
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Fragments, Micro-Fiction
“Untitled Fragment #7″
The idea, the promise of sleep became sleep itself long before the train reached young Sam’s stop. When it did, he was far away in another place, a place where work, love, happy hour, all came together as he wanted them to, but as he slept, in fact, one more thing, his journey home, had […]
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Micro-Fiction
“Brooklyn’s Finest Laundry”
Marc looked at himself one last time in the mirror before leaving. He looked good. And that he knew this, meant he looked really good. He went and hugged himself, half to do a model-like pose for the mirror, half to feel the soft warmth of his expensive sweater. After putting the earphones from his […]
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Micro-Fiction
“Max From Minnesota”
One day I’ll just walk to work– was the collective thought of those packed onto (or into) the L-train. It was an unusually bad morning for the Brooklyn line and riders had little room to do anything, but think. The doors had not yet closed on the Bedford Ave. stop, but it was clear from […]
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