Filed under: Bread City,Ohio,Photography,Poetry | Tags: Art, Drug Slang, Nostalgia, Polaroid Photography
holding packs of crayons/
we call that burnt sienna/
cleveland browns bandanna/
my ferrari antenna/

Filed under: Basketball,Bread City,Flowers,Photography,Spring | Tags: Creative Basketball Photography, Holga Photography
LOVE AND DUNKING IS IN THE AIR.

by Heather Noelle Costigan
CLICK HERE for full size.
1) We are now BREADCITY.ORG! A.K.A. the Billy Baldwin of this blog game. Subscribers don’t need to change anything, but for everyone else the new RSS feed is here.
2) There are links to Arabic/Catalan/Chinese/Hebrew/Thai translations of this website in the sidebar, below “Today’s Top Posts.” Get familiar…
Back to the streets.

Filed under: Brawl,College Basketball,Ohio State,University of Minnesota | Tags: Fight, Luke Witte, Philosophy
As our team sat in the dark, dingy locker room … I emerged from a near-comatose state and jumped up, wanting to finish the game. I have no memory of anything that occured from halftime to the next morning … What happens to the human psyche when a person suffers traumatic harm? What does a person do with the deluge of emotions that infiltrates his mind and changes from minute to minute? One minute I felt that everything would be fine, that healing was happening. The next minute all I could think about was hatred and retribution … Emotionally and philosophically, I was in a crisis. Ron Behagan, Clyde Turner, Corky Taylor, and Coach Bill Musselman had become objects of what philosophers Jeffrie G. Murphy and Jean Hampton call ‘moral hatred.’ … After college, I played for a few years with the Cleveland Cavaliers in the NBA, but I never played with the same intensity of enjoyment that I had before the Minnesota game.
– Luke Witte’s post-brawl account is excerpted from an essay on forgiveness in Basketball and Philosophy. Sports Illustrated called the fight “the most vicious attack in college basketball lore.” This was Witte’s face. He is now a pastor.
Filed under: Bread City,Crime,Poetry,matchbooks | Tags: Art, Crime Poetry, Hotel Matchbook
On my way down to the lobby
reach quick now it’s a robbery
Arabs rushing in
smashing the antique pottery.
Luckily we rigged
the whole room booby trapped
they look under the rug
and get blown up.
