drmstream[writing]

  This blog is an inad­ver­tent place, nei­ther com­mon­place book nor pub­lish­ing plat­form, dis­or­derly in approach but earnest in inten­tion, a bal­ance of self provo­ca­tion, hope­ful procla­ma­tion and inter­mit­tent dis­trac­tion. Despite its irres­olute intent, drmstream[writing] frames a rela­tion­ship for a kind-of writer and a kind-of audi­ence.  There is a group of you — a few […]

Part I: Just My Imag­i­na­tion Deep morn­ing city lights, all rounded edges and first sleep. A cab runs by and the chrome tires keep spin­ning. My eyes want to squint. I’m not ready to fall down. There’s a cost to flex­ing your sched­ule to get the last hour of work in. The pur­ga­tory of New York […]

He was a vio­lent man inca­pable of being faith­ful ton his wife. He was also para­noid. Those qual­i­ties doomed their mar­riage. Feb­ru­ary 17, 2011 6:19 pm via Twit­te­la­torReplyRetweetFavorite @drmstream drm­stream When you tell a story on Twit­ter, you assem­ble it into 140 char­ac­ter or fewer bits and dis­trib­ute it into the stream.  It is different […]

The rumor spread across cam­pus like the brush fires that sparked dur­ing dry fall after­noons at the mouth of Bloody Run: some­one had got a girl up the lane preg­nant. The Head­mas­ter knew. They were going to get expelled. At first we thought it was Sam. He had a ground floor sin­gle and he took […]

At Storm King, the unpar­al­leled sculp­ture gar­den in New York’s Hud­son Val­ley, an decay­ing stone wall wound through the old dairy fields. The sculp­tor Andy Goldswor­thy over two sum­mers in 1997 and 1998 directed the struc­ture of a new stone wall along the path of the old one. The new wall has a for­mal ele­gance that […]

Hav­ing a Coke with You BY Frank O’Hara is even more fun than going to San Sebas­t­ian, Irún, Hen­daye, Biar­ritz, Bay­onne or being sick to my stom­ach on the Trav­es­era de Gra­cia in Barcelona partly because in your orange shirt you look like a bet­ter hap­pier St. Sebas­t­ian partly because of my love for you, partly […]

The heav­enly blisses Of his kisses Fill me with ecstasy. He’s sweet just like choco­late candy And just like honey from the bee. I’m Just Wild About Har­ryfrom Shuf­fle Along. In 1921, Broad­way jumped to East 63rd Street on New York’s West Side with the first inte­grated musi­cal to make it big on stage. The hit num­ber was […]

Her name was Arline. She was my father’s mother. She died in 1949 when my father was 16. We knew very lit­tle about her grow­ing up. In the early 1980’s, after my grand­fa­ther died, a let­ter arrived at the house from my father’s aunt Marie who was six years younger than her sis­ter. My par­ents were […]

I hope it is true that a man can die and yet not only live in oth­ers but give them life, and not only life, but that great con­scious­ness of life.“ — Jack Ker­ouac The first time that I read On the Road, it took days for the roar to sub­side. The world Ker­ouac painted […]

The Bow­ery in New York City in the early 1920’s. Pro­hi­bi­tion is around the cor­ner — then the restau­rant will move up to street level and the liquor store down below.