Aimless letters to no one in particular
“Within these new townships, what do I see? I see the black pitheads, the coal wheels are turning.” Sydney sits at the far Atlantic end of Nova Scotia, tucked between the fingers of Cape Breton’s lobster claw shape. Today’s special at Swiss Chalet is a quarter chicken and ribs, which the waitress recommends unreservedly. She does, perhaps, reserve some enthusiasm…
Taormina, Sicily – I reserve a special place, far in the depths of the lower intestine, where I store my feelings toward the state of Alabama. You roll your eyes at the notion, clearly sour grapes for an adult life filled with Nick Saban-crafted heartbreak, but I’d love to grab a drink with the guy. Same with Steve Spurrier. Just…
London — I waved frantically, “Excuse me, sir! You’re my driver!” But the pleas were for naught as my first Uber driver upon moving here, at Heathrow’s Terminal 2, caught my glance, and with a face reflecting some mix of confusion and panic, scurried on. Wander into an empty restaurant here and the host, overwhelmed by a walk-in – “no…
