Well god damn. A lot of crazy stuff has happened in my work this year, but this stands apart. I just found out that I’ve been listed in the annual Best of Baltimore issue by City Paper. Let’s be honest: I do not deserve this. But I’ll take it! In a city that’s home to nonfiction giants like David Simon and Taylor Branch, even being mistaken for one of the good ones is a woozy honor. Especially coming from CP, which hoists this city on its petard every week and makes it a better place to live. Which, in fact, hoisted me off my petard a couple memorable times. My very first magazine article, published in Baltimore magazine about twenty years ago, elicited a jeering rejoinder from CP’s Tom Scocca, the rat fink bastard, who found my writing so unbearable that he printed a column attacking it. Not that I’m bitter about it, shitbag. Happily Scocca has moved on to skewering bigger fish than me. But to be included on the paper’s Best of list means more than I can really say. I love this messy town. I love living here, writing here, walking through its shabby corridors, watching insane rock operas that get shut down by the police, and stopping off at the crumbling Mencken House to glug a beer in the back yard with my old man. I don’t really know what else to say. Except thanks.
Posted on: Wed, 17 Sep 2014 13:50:45 +0000
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