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In 100 on November 13, 2021 at 9:54 am

Mac Miller was my first hero who died younger than I was. I cried, walking around Berlin, listening to “2009” and “Dunno” and “Wings”.

It was heartbreak, for a kid with a heart of gold; a kid who felt deeply, shared bravely. And it was anger. It was anger at a drug addict who knew, who told you he knew, and who lost his life to a stupid fucking overdose anyway. When the kid who “fell asleep and forgot to die”, remembered.

I don’t think I’ve ever “gotten over” Mac dying.

And in some ways, I hope I never do.

Finding love

In 100 on November 12, 2021 at 4:35 pm

David was nobody before Goliath. Just some plucky shepherd. And so he slings Goliath—which for sure helped the brand—but he’s chasing more. He wants to marry the King’s daughter.

The King, as kings do, isn’t enamored of David. He did some thing, but that doesn’t make him some body. Not king pedigree.

But he has to give David a chance. So he sends him on a mission: collect 100 Phillistine foreskins.

Spoilers: David does. He drops them in front of the king, who counts them—counts them— to be sure.

David gets the girl, and the rest is fantasy.


In 100 on November 9, 2021 at 12:34 pm

There’s a tree there on 20th between Guerrero and Valencia. Broad young leaves, filled with life. Translucent mantis green.

He’s wearing a drab jade sleeping bag as a gown.

And he’s plucking those leaves.

One at a time, from the bottom.

He’s plucking them, spiraling around.

He’s plucking them as pedestrians cross to the other sidewalk.

Giving a wide birth.

Giving him space to work.

San Francisco keeps a record of every tree—their health and their history. It’s online. Open data.

The site is down now, but maybe it will be up for you.

Maybe you can find it’s name.