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I heart Nov York by Miss Rosen
I have
always had a penchant for the criminal element, and despite my mother's
persistent lament, I seem to have found them in the form of men. Mmm
yes. Almost a fetish it's been, moving over the years from drug dealers
(convenient) to graffiti writers (talented). In fact, it was one such
writer who gave me a copy of Nov York, a twisted
stream-of-consciousness "written by a slave"--or so it says on the cover
(while on the spine, it says Dumar Brown). I couldn't finish the book
due to an interminable case of motion sickness and yet I kept it, which
says a lot for a woman who prides herself in purging her bookshelves
every six months.
A few years later, I received the call: Mr. Brown was looking for a publisher for his third book, The World Screaming Nov, and was I interested in meeting this elusive cat. Undoubtedly yes, and I wore my finest Led Zeppelin t-shirt. We met, got on, but my heavy handed editing of his work turned him off and the book was later released by alife and Newkirk Editeur. I received a signed copy, one of the limited edition hand-gilded by the hand of a man preaching rebellion in our prisons. By a man who taught inmates on Rikers Island before becoming a novelist. Oh yea, and somewhere in there, bombed a couple of spots.
Since then, I've read the shooting script for the first screenplay Mr. Brown, Running Through the Forest at Night, an unforgiving study of juvenile crime and punishment. Examining the industrial and intimate mechanizations of the criminal mind. In Mr. Brown's world no one is immune from the call for vengeance. Whether a gangsta or the common man rescripting the system to meet their own ends, there's no escape. Mr. Brown is the Sartre of Spofford, and I am collecting first editions.
A few years later, I received the call: Mr. Brown was looking for a publisher for his third book, The World Screaming Nov, and was I interested in meeting this elusive cat. Undoubtedly yes, and I wore my finest Led Zeppelin t-shirt. We met, got on, but my heavy handed editing of his work turned him off and the book was later released by alife and Newkirk Editeur. I received a signed copy, one of the limited edition hand-gilded by the hand of a man preaching rebellion in our prisons. By a man who taught inmates on Rikers Island before becoming a novelist. Oh yea, and somewhere in there, bombed a couple of spots.
Since then, I've read the shooting script for the first screenplay Mr. Brown, Running Through the Forest at Night, an unforgiving study of juvenile crime and punishment. Examining the industrial and intimate mechanizations of the criminal mind. In Mr. Brown's world no one is immune from the call for vengeance. Whether a gangsta or the common man rescripting the system to meet their own ends, there's no escape. Mr. Brown is the Sartre of Spofford, and I am collecting first editions.
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