Roof Alexander's Blog, page 21
November 12, 2013
November 11, 2013
Check out the sequel: A Condo Grows in Brooklyn. AKA To Be Heard
Check out the sequel: A Condo Grows in Brooklyn. AKA To Be Heard
November 9, 2013
November 8, 2013
November 7, 2013
November 5, 2013
I walked into the Brooklyn Ale House on Berry and North 8th. It...
I walked into the Brooklyn Ale House on Berry and North 8th. It smelled like stale beer, wet cigarettes, and hot apple cider, all wonderful smells on a winter day. There was one lone afternoon bar fly occupying the farthest stool from the door.
“You mind if I put up a flier?” I asked the bartender.
“Go for it.” She barely looked up at me. I looked her up and down. She was a voluptuous blonde covered in tattoos. “What’s it for? A band?” She asked. You couldn’t throw guitar pick in Williamsburg without hitting a musician in the eye.
Excerpt from the Novel: TO BE HEARD: A story about Williamsburg
November 4, 2013
Talk to the hand. To Be Heard
Talk to the hand. To Be Heard
October 28, 2013
whitecons:
Found this on my stoop today - what does it mean?...
Found this on my stoop today - what does it mean? #whitecons #streetart #williamsburg #converse (at 129)
It means Lou Reed. Born Brooklyn 1942. Died yesterday.
Excerpt from To Be Heard: Chapter 17
She slipped me a note...
Excerpt from To Be Heard: Chapter 17
She slipped me a note when I walked in the room. It read: MEET ME AT THE ABBEY AT MIDNIGHT? PLEASE?
She did say please, so I wrote back to her on the same piece of paper. BE CAREFUL NOT TO TOUCH THE WALL, THERE’S A BRAND NEW COAT OF PAINT.
~~~~~~~~~~
At midnight I walked into the Abbey Bar and found an empty table in the back. Nicolette came in a few minutes later. She ordered two beers and two shots, and brought them back to the table. Then she put two yellow pills beside the beers. We did the shots, chased it with the pills, and then chased it with the beers; our eyes locked the whole time like a couple of card sharks. She looked away first.
“You know I’m never like this.” She said. “I don’t like being like this. I don’t want to be like this. I’ve been like this since that night.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything.
“I wanted to know what dying feels like.”
“I’m not following, you wanted to commit suicide?”
“No, I just wanted the feeling. If I died then everything disappears with me, so instead of dying, I just made everything I know disappear.”
October 21, 2013
Excerpt from novel: To Be Heard
“What do you want to do with...
Excerpt from novel: To Be Heard
“What do you want to do with this book?” He asked me point blank.
I stared down the end of the barrel and went into stricken confusion. I had never thought about what I wanted to do with the book. I assumed I would write it, get it into someone’s hands that could spread it over the world, and then write another book in the meantime. I probably could have said this and it would have sufficed as an answer, but as so many times in school when I was unprepared I answered, “I don’t know.”
Then the very professional agent went into his very professional spiel about the elements that he would have to deal with and subsequently what I would have to deal with. He took my manuscript, told me if he had time he would go over it, and then he abruptly stood up to shake my hand farewell. But before I shook his hand, my mouth vomited out these words, “I just want to be heard!”
