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Source: Chasing the Harvest: ‘It Used to Be Only Men That Did This Job’

Longreads

Eva Tenuto | Longreads | April 2017 | 9 minutes (2,181 words)

It was the summer of 1997. For my 24th birthday, Rachel, one of my best friends, bought me the best present I could imagine receiving: a ticket to see Prince at Jones Beach Theater—on my birthday, July 23rd, no less. A full-on Prince fanatic, I was out-of-my-mind thrilled.

The plan was for me to drive down from Rosendale, where I was managing a bed and breakfast that had just opened, and meet Rachel and her boyfriend Andre there.

Rachel and I had become best friends in high school drama club, then both moved to New York City to study acting, eventually sharing an apartment on Avenue A between 9th and 10th Streets, across from Tompkins Square Park.

But after a few years, I decided to move back upstate, where I’m from, and take the job at the new…

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Source: Longreads Just Turned 8 Years Old. Here’s What the Next Eight Years Look Like.

Longreads

As the president sucks up the oxygen from the media atmosphere, it’s easy to forget how important local journalism is right now. The regional press—the holy trinity of newspapers, alt-weeklies, and city magazines—is where we can find true stories of friends and neighbors impacted by immigration raids, fights over funding public education, and the frontline of relaxed environmental standards that will impact the water we drink and the air we breathe. We need to support their work.

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I talked with the good people at Bayou Magazine, in New Orleans, about writing, nonfiction and publishing.

Source: Interview with Aaron Gilbreath

I wrote about the beauty and reality of, the mysteries and misunderstandings about, our fantastic neighbor Canada. Don’t worry Canada, we aren’t all moving there anytime soon.

Longreads

In a box in my basement, I keep a small bag of letters from my Canadian friend Dayna. We got tight in high school in Phoenix, Arizona, but after she moved back home to Calgary, Alberta, we corresponded by mail. Growing up, cars with Manitoba and Saskatchewan license plates filled my city’s streets during the mild desert winters. “Another snowbird,” my dad would say from behind the wheel. “Be nice to them. They’re good for the economy.” Dayna was the first Canada I actually got to know.

For four years, Dayna and I kept in touch by exchanging mixtapes and letters filled with our teenage obsessions. Hers also contained tantalizing visions of a foreign land. She called dorks “knobs” and heavy-metal kids “bangers.” In the photos Dayna and her friends sent, their cars shimmered with a crystalline sheen and you could see their breath. It all seemed so exotic.

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The greatest enemy of print publishing might not be digital media or the widespread expectation that reading material be free. It might be the human body. A lot of people can’t stay awake while reading, including myself. While it feels good to have company, it’s not a club I want membership in. I want to read. My eyes just get so heavy at night.

On the couch, the street quiet outside and neighboring houses dark, it’s such a pleasure to curl up with a good book, as they say. Then a page or two in, the problems begin. The slumping. The nodding. Realizing you just blurred through a paragraph and can’t remember any of it, or worse, that you reread the same sentence ten or so times and still couldn’t get through it. You’re asleep! Go to bed! Just accept it and crawl under the covers with your partner already! Why resist? Because you want to read goddamit, that’s why. This was supposed to be your time. Booktime, not bedtime. You aren’t giving in so easily.

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