Posts by Nathan Graziano
So I picked up the envelope and carried it inside, laying it on the kitchen table while trying to figure out how I was going to afford a lawyer. I tore open the top of the envelope and quickly gleaned that there weren’t divorce papers inside, rather a vinyl album.
This is due to the fact that Heathcliff and I both struggle with anxiety disorders[2] that can make socializing strenuous and sometimes manifests in panic attacks—sometimes at a table with comfortable and gregarious friends.
I suppose there’s no graceful way of phrasing this—especially to music aficionados, many of whom I’ve interviewed and written about and will likely never take me seriously again. So I’ll just say it bluntly with my shoulders back and my chin up. I love Billy Squier’s music.
There’s a shot in Craig Hanson’s 2000 film “Wonder Boys”[1] that perfectly captures all of the pretentiousness of the literary
At an old farmhouse, now owned by Rob and Julie Azevedo—originally built in the late-19th Century and renovated to include modern amenities—friends are gathering to share company, conviviality and, more importantly, music.
The suite—which accommodates roughly 40 people—was air-conditioned[10] and spacious with modern couches and coffee tables with chips and pastry trays, a big screen television to our right while in front of us, through the window panes, Fenway Park stretched out unfettered by any obstructions, a truly idyllic view.
Maybe I’m not “a good boy.” Maybe I have no interest in being “a good boy” according to The Blonde Woman’s ideas about the concept. Maybe I’d prefer to live my life following my passions—I’m passionate about cheese and, yes, I will continue to beg for it—even it means indulging in my dark/“bad” side.
But I was apprehensive about starting “Tracy Flick Can’t Win” for a couple of reasons, which I’m also fairly certain that my fellow book-nerds will understand.
It happened so fast that I barely registered the whizzing of the firework heading straight at me. The base of the box had tipped over on the grass, and the last shot in the pack came zipping at me.
On this night, in the corner by the entrance, behind a pair of pool tables, Jonny Friday—a stalwart on the Manchester music scene and the host of the open mic nights at Angel City Music Hall—sets up for tonight’s acoustic open mic.