When I was in western France in May, I caught a ride with an anarchist out of La Rochelle. Populism had split Europe, and Trump was now splitting America. Allison and I were headed south toward Spain, trying to find somewhere warm. The man in the junker was white and Rastafari, a product of the … Continue reading
Category Archives: Journalism
This tab will grow at the same rate that I mature.
It’s time to meet my coworkers.
I’ve been trucking for a year now, and so far all of my blog posts have been terribly obnoxious exaltations of the working class. I titled two different posts as “Lost in America.” I profiled a drug runner, a gang banger, an old man with regret, a young woman with determination. I made us look like … Continue reading
There Are Worse Places to Die
Sucks to be stuck in the desert, out in the sand dunes. Sucks that you don’t even have any drugs. You haven’t had any narcotics in, like, a while. Reflect on how you got here. A car. You hitchhiked. That’s right, you’re here on purpose. It’s hard to remember, because walking for four days in … Continue reading
When the Brakeman Turns Away
Carrizo Mountain looms unmagnificently in the sunrise. Nothing else looms but absence. It’s beautiful in the way sad things are. I peed in the dirt parking lot that marks the entrance to Carrizozo, New Mexico, and put a shirt on. The town — or what’s left — is lined with poplars, elms, and mysterious painted burro … Continue reading
Murray, KY to Paducah, KY
“There were green lights, that’s the last thing I remember. I got a big scar on my head from the baseball bat. What really screwed me up…what screwed me over in county court was after, when I said, ‘Imma go get my piece, and Imma come back and shoot every one of you fuckers.’” Paul … Continue reading
Lost in America Pts 3 & 4: Outtakes from the Bel-Aire
“Henry James Branlett, Jr.” Says it slowly, loudly, holding out his ID. Branlett’s one of the only black people at the Bel-Aire. He lives on the far end, away from everyone. That’s where everyone wants him. He’s a troublemaker. 50 years old, alone. No job, no social life. A bible. He keeps his room busy … Continue reading
Lost in America Pt. 2: From an Orphanage in Moldova
Michael doesn’t know if Moldovans are pro-Russia or not. He guesses that the older men are Russians and the younger men are Moldovans. You don’t learn much politics in Moldovan orphanages. Michael, now 24, doesn’t speak without being spoken to. Instead of looking for training partners, he spends most of every day silently playing pool … Continue reading
And the anger began to ferment
Some trucking companies, or at least this one, intentionally recruit way more people than they have trucks for. All these people in the photo are sitting around, waiting for trainers that don’t exist yet. The company knows the average stay for an over-the-road driver at a company is 4.2 months. They get no commitment so … Continue reading
Tonight I’ll Sleep in Kentucky
Springfield to Champaign. Champaign to St. Louis. St. Louis to Paducah. If you’re not familiar with the Midwest, lemme stress that this route is insane, and it passes through Springfield twice before eventually arriving almost accidentally in Kentucky. But that’s the nature of my life and the Greyhound bus. Tonight I’ll sleep in Murray, KY, … Continue reading
Lost in America Part One
Cassidy Gordon flipped through photos of urns with her mom, trying to figure out which one to bury her in. “What yurn you like, mom? I like this one.” She pointed to a lavishly decorated Egyptian-style urn. “This one’s so cool!” “Hell no. I’m not gettin’ buried in that. That’s stupid.” Cassidy flipped through more … Continue reading
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