I was up in DC again. The suburbs. There was some sort of family gathering that I got invited to—a birthday party, a holiday, something of that sort. We were around back and a neighbor had the grill going. There was some talking: “Can you believe this day we’re...
We stepped down the cobblestone steps, our backs to that gothic tower of bricks seeing us off into a damp night. Jesse’s face was blue as he stared down into his phone and said: C’mon, I think it’s this way. It’s west? I asked. No, it’s in this direct—I mean...
My god, I thought, this place will kill me one day… The door squeaked shut behind me; there was no turning back. The second floor of the office was as wide as a football field, with a maddening yellow tent and the stench of stale coffee and bleached paper. There...
Vice published an article in ‘99 declaring RVA “a black hole”, “a sedative”, and “the easiest place in the world to do nothing and still have the best fucking time in the world”. After living there for 6 years in my early 20s, I couldn’t agree more. Anyways, I hope...