Currently on twitter, and maybe elsewhere, a video is circulating of a white woman named Amy Cooper. Cooper was walking her dog without a leash in the Ramble in Central Park, when a Black man named Christian Cooper approached her to ask her to leash her dog. At this point, according to Christian Cooper andContinue reading “Amy Cooper in the Ramble”
Category Archives: New writing
Coney Island and Washington Heights, circa 2015
Sometimes the waves are history, sometimes the waves are money.
Our Plague Year: Dreamland
The diseased world turned, and we were getting on with life. But then the dreams started.
Pharaoh
He is, in every sense, his own cat. In what sense is he “my cat”?
Our Plague Year: How we keep busy, how we keep going and the ones we are losing
They say we live in extraordinary times and should keep notes. They say we will be valuable to historians. It’s nice to think of value returning to us, as we stay home to avoid the virus, as we pace our cages, as we rot. So here’s my effort. I wake up at 11 AM andContinue reading “Our Plague Year: How we keep busy, how we keep going and the ones we are losing”
Writing to #FreeThemALL Pt. 3
I have never trusted my body. I have rarely trusted those who DO trust their body.
Writing to #FreeThemALL pt. 2
Today, to raise money for The New York Immigrant Fund’s Let My People Go campaign, I offered to write at least 200 words for whoever gave at least 18 dollars, on the topic of their choice. The offer is still standing, and I’m still writing, but here is the second piece I wrote, on theContinue reading “Writing to #FreeThemALL pt. 2”
Writing to #FreeThemALL
Today, to raise money for The New York Immigrant Fund’s Let My People Go campaign, I offered to write at least 200 words for whoever gave at least 18 dollars, on the topic of their choice. The offer is still standing, and I’m still writing, but here is the first piece I wrote, on theContinue reading “Writing to #FreeThemALL”
Our Plague Year: Spots of color
I exclusively wore yellow shirts between the ages of 15 and 27. It was a desperate adolescent affectation, a hail-mary pass attempt at a personality, that simply continued way, way too long due to depression and stubbornness. Despite that, there are bright spots. Many friends who I made in that era fondly associate me withContinue reading “Our Plague Year: Spots of color”
Father Demo Square At Night
There’s a little triangle of pavement there, that the city has condescended to green, and a fountain. The triangle is surrounded by shops. It’s called Father Demo Square.
Mordecai Martin, Writer 