Dickey Ride Three hours north of Augusta, the music pumped through our car speakers asks on repeat Don’t you want a dickey ride? Don’t you want a dickey ride? I must admit I think I do, only what I want is akin more to that James Dickey, canoe down a river, drunk fun voyage, something action, some adventure, but not even that. It’s the ride I’m in now, four friends in a Ford carousing around Rabun, North Georgia chanting mid-90s rap to mica-lined rocks, them shining back like broken disco balls, sort of a … Continue reading Dickey Ride by David Moody →
Water pistols. Animal crackers. Twinkies. Paper airplanes. Dollar bills, paddle ball toys and boxes of popcorn. Fun and games, but maybe not the stuff of fine art. Unless you’re Virginia artist Michael Fitts. Fitts’s art not only elevates the unexpected, he does so using untraditional materials – scraps of sheet tin, copper and aluminum. Old metal—with all its worn and surprising surfaces—began to interest Fitts in 1989 after he’d graduated in graphic design from Virginia Commonwealth University. “I was in Richmond, and it was my first time living in the city. I began collecting things … Continue reading Elevating the Unexpected: Paintings by Michael Fitts →
Off to my left the dark current of the Hudson River rushed downstream at 65 mph, a magnificent sight, but at the moment my mind was concentrating on the tail lights bobbing and weaving in and out of traffic in front of me. I was somewhere in the middle of the pack, an anonymous group of motorcycle enthusiasts who met on summer evenings on Eighth Street in Greenwich Village to ride out together. Being, more or less, one of the regulars, but never the leader, I would hang around, chatting and ogling the passing chicks, … Continue reading Between Lanes by Stephen Poleskie →
The first thing you need to do is case the neighborhood, check out all of the streets in the area, walk around between the buildings—imagine yourself passing by these same sights every day. You have to be lucky too. You have to imagine yourself coming home to the apartment, wanting to go back, night after night, yours for better or worse. You don’t want to be driven out sooner than you feel like going. You have to be prepared for what it might do to you, how it might make you feel. You have to … Continue reading House Hunting by Lee Foust →
I used to think the school at which I taught should have been named Rodney Dangerfield High because nobody got any respect. Oppressive rules treated students like babies. Weapons checks regarded them as criminals. Teachers faced overcrowded classrooms with shamefully inadequate resources and endured blatant—and often profane—rudeness from students and endless interruptions from everyone. We—the teachers—disregarded administrative rules as a matter of course. Other high schools and the district as a whole disdained us because we were small and had no football team, because our basketball team had a reputation for fighting and mayhem (because … Continue reading Lunchero by Larry Strauss →
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