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Meta
Tag Archives: urban
Kleptomania
There was a time when kleptomania was all the rage among the women in my family. That is, my mother, and my two aunts, Marie and Rosetta, were robbing department stores and toy stores with casual regularity. I’m … Continue reading
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, christmas, family, John Biscello, Literary, Prose, story, theft, urban
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Bloodlet
I don’t think they can handle the Juice, Davey Dog sneered a challenge. He smirked with superiority and you couldn’t tell exactly where he was looking, because his eyes were hidden behind dark glasses. There were eight … Continue reading
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged basement, Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, drugs, John Biscello, Literary, Prose, story, urban
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Miss Roach
Kenny named her Miss Roach. He named her that because of the stiletto heels she always wore. Look at them—he’d always point at the heels first, as if she were an extension of the heels and not … Continue reading
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged adolescence, Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, John Biscello, neighborhood, Prose, sex, stilettos, story, urban
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My Unreal Family
At times I feel like I invented them, along with the rest of my childhood. Which, in a sense, I suppose I have. They are who they are they are, regardless of my perceptions and analysis, yet I have, … Continue reading
Posted in Prose, Uncategorized
Tagged Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, brooklyn spleen, catholic, fiction, Italian-American, John Biscello, Prose, story, urban
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Brooklyn 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
Posted in Prose
Tagged Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, John Biscello, Literary, Spleen, street corner, urban
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How Tomorrow Moves
It was a matter of helium-speak, and tomorrow-talk, and bright ribbons of noise amounting to nothing. We, hanging out on the street-corner, conducting ping-pong volleys and raps, ferocity and verve, building ourselves up—who we were and were not, what we … Continue reading
Posted in Prose
Tagged Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, John Biscello, Literary, Prose, storytelling, street corner, train station, urban
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John Biscello 