Watching Pose from Nairobi

mah tongue is in my friend’s mouf —Zora Neale Hurston Soon after I completed high school, I worked at a small nursing home. Every few months, a certain kind of patient would come in: a young man, brought by family, rarely visited, visibly wasting. This was before antiretrovirals. He seemed terribly isolated and resigned. He... Continue Reading →

Break (Part One)

What would it mean to subject the notion of dating, of being dateable (as Gay Prof writes), to serious scrutiny? I ask this as one who has derided, scorned, abandoned, and, for good measure, cremated the idea and practice of dating (especially around February 14). I am not concerned with the quality of one’s dates,... Continue Reading →

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