Tag Archives: Bensonhurst

Mary

      It was a scorcher. One of those ovenbake summer days where you feel like you’re huffing fur.    I had decided to take a stroll around the neighborhood, and re-acclimate myself.    As I walked down the block … Continue reading

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Bensonhurst

Bones of my birthplace, splintering in rapid tow– There’s no place like home?

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Halloween

Halloween. As was tradition, the boys would stalk the neighborhood, armed with cartons of eggs and cans of Barbasol. Me and my friends were foam-caked, yolk-splatted messes when we ran into Alexis and her friends coming home from school. They … Continue reading

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Summer Wind

Tar, vinegar, piss, crossing of urban perfume– Those summer winds, tracked.

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No Man’s Brooklyn

I have started working on my new novel: No Man’s Brooklyn.  A return to the bones of childhood, and to tangled roots. A return to the gritty lore of Bensonhurst.  

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Digging for Air

There was always plenty of tomorrow-talk, bright ribbons of noise amounting to nothing. What we would do, where we would go, how we’d become this or that. We erected fragile monuments to ourselves, and expected others to pay their respects, … Continue reading

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Birth of a Prologue

   They say you can’t go home again. I don’t know who “they” are, but apparently this mysterious phantom collective is well-stocked in facts, aphorisms and guidelines.    I was going home again, to Brooklyn, though the notion of return, … Continue reading

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Spleen

   We didn’t talk about it, but we knew we’d never amount to anything, no matter what we did.    No matter how celebrated the accomplishment, no matter how big the lie and the audience buying it, nothing could ever … Continue reading

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Fruit

   L & S was a candy store and newsstand located on the corner of 60th St. and 18th Ave.  L & S, which stood for Louie & Son, was owned by Louie Varinella: a burly, slightly balding man with … Continue reading

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My Sister

   My sister and I are bonded in that we were in the trenches together. In the battle-zone that was our household, we were witnesses to and casualties of the same war.    I am six years older than my … Continue reading

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