Forty-Three Hours and Counting
I smoked my first cigarette at age 10, in the raspberry bushes across the street with my friend W., who had stolen his father’s pack. We hid the rest under a bush for later, but that night in a fit of...
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I heard a nice idea from my sister: every time something happens that you’re really thankful for, you write it on a piece of paper and put it in a jar. Then, at the end of the year, you read the pieces...
View ArticleTotal Perspective Vortex
Look, Matisyahu, I don’t know what your deal is, or why the Reggae and not something less awful,1 or what that accent is, exactly,2 or why you decided to shave your beard or how I feel about that, but...
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