Archive for the ‘memento mori’ Category

~meadow massacre~

Tuesday, September 5th, 2017

Sunrise (above), pre meadow razing. The turkey gang and I wander bewilderedly, surveying the damage. Marbled Orb Weaver on the last twig standing. See if you can find the frog in the meadow debris below. Parting gift from my turkey buddies: sixteen inch quill. Antler, also found today, is just shy of six.

~boneyards of boston~

Tuesday, June 20th, 2017

Stones from the numerous cemeteries of Boston and Cambridge. Panorama below is of North End’s Copp’s Hill. Click to expand image.

~snow melt & scapulae~

Sunday, February 19th, 2017

~ rainbowie ~

Tuesday, January 10th, 2017

McSweeney’s Believer Logger published Electric Blue, an essay I wrote one year ago, about Bowie’s life, death, and impromptu NYC memorial. Scroll bars will center below, or go to the source via link above.

~the bright & hollow sky~

Saturday, December 3rd, 2016

We danced to Iggy’s The Passenger and Bowie’s Heroes. We stayed up until 3:30 and woke at 6:30 to head to Tegel airport. Tschüssi, Berlin!

~when you’re a boy~

Monday, November 7th, 2016

We once lived in Schöneberg, on Fuggerstraße, a few doors from Connection Club–which in the 70s was the cabaret nightclub Chez Romy Haag, created by the transsexual performer of the same name. David Bowie and Haag’s well-publicized affair made Haag something of a Sally Bowles figure to Bowie’s Christopher Isherwood–on whose coattails Bowie had followed, despite the […]

~goodbye, grace jones street~

Sunday, October 30th, 2016

Thanks for la vie en rose.

~watch that man~

Friday, May 20th, 2016

Soho sighting, Crosby Street at Spring Street.

~glitter shiva~

Sunday, January 17th, 2016

On day seven of the glitter shiva, snow.


Wednesday, January 13th, 2016

I think just for today I will avoid beating the now weighted path I’ve trod every few days of the last years–to the library and, by default, Bowie’s house. It feels strange, maudlin even, to mourn in this way a man I’ve never met. I share a glance with the occasional bleary-eyed oldster coming from […]

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