Author Archives: Asher Fusco

Prospect

Prospect Avenue

I stared down your hollow hall. Lined with what looked like static stars in a sky divided into fourths. Your beams spending summer swelling, spitting beads of sweat from bubbles, an uneven topography.

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What Is Required

LBI

Sometimes it gets bad and goes wrong and the walls press in close. The air is cold in spite of the sun and the wind whips through three long-sleeve layers.

What is it you require?

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Marathon (Pt. 2)

When I wrote this a few months ago, I intended it to be a one-off appreciation of the New York City Marathon — the way it boils down sport, human nature and the complications of this city to something simple, pure and moving.

Turns out that was just Part One of what will be a three-post series. Last month, I registered to run the 2012 New York City Marathon. It will be my first marathon and most definitely not my last.

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A Love Letter

I fall from the curb one wheel at a time and stand up to push with all my pounds against the slope. It’s never easy.

Up 16th Street east away from the harbor, leaving the Statue of Liberty behind. Each block is a confused collection of old and young: peeling, window-barred houses in the shadow of six-story condo buildings with ten-foot windows. A Puerto Rican flag hung here two years ago. Now, Liverpool FC.

*****

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A Memory

I attended a creative writing class a couple of weeks ago. It was fairly basic: the stuff you’d learn in the first few sessions of an introductory college Fiction or Creative Writing class, all scrunched into one employer-funded weekday away from the grind of the office. Aside from its value as a reprieve from the stress of everyday, the class granted me a newfound obsession, triggered by a prompt to write about a memory of a pivotal life moment.

What and how and how much do we remember?

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The Window Seat

“What is lost we gain alone and how these things they grow and grow.” Brian Lewis-Jones, Parish Parish

I bit my lip a little bit and blinked hard, exhaled and read the final few sentences again, smiling as I hit the bottom of the page. I was finishing my first read-through of Parish, Parish, a 30-some-page lyric essay by Brian Lewis-Jones, a friend and former colleague of mine. The tale of a week in post-Katrina New Orleans explores the intersection of past and future, indecision and decision, loss and gain.

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Why We Love Ryan Gosling

There’s nothing wrong with Ryan Gosling.

Gosling is a household name, face, and body. Fashion-forward straight men love him for his style and everyone else loves him for his everything else. From The Notebook to Half Nelson to Blue Valentine to Drive, the blue-eyed Canuck has dabbled in quite a few corners of the movie — and music — business and done a damn good job of it.

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Unsolicited Endorsements: XV

Because sometimes you just want friends to tell you about cool things… the Brew House team offers up its weekly mix of author-supported goodness.

Grammy Performance: Taylor Swift

Am I endorsing Taylor Swift? Well, sort of. Is this a tepid recommendation of someone who already gets way too much pub? Probably. Did I still enjoy Taylor’s live rendition of her hit song “Mean” at the Grammys? Well, yes. I couldn’t help it. And my Twitter feed seemed to agree.

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Unsolicited Endorsements: XIV

Because sometimes you just want friends to tell you about cool things… the Brew House team offers up its weekly mix of author-supported goodness.

Food: Doritos with Green Salsa

Putting together random food combinations comes with a negative connotation. If you think whip cream is good with chocolate chip cookies, you sound fat. Just about any combo can have this effect – think adding bacon to anything. But random food combos are also delicious – think adding bacon to anything.

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Posterized

I remember standing in the back section of Superstar Collectibles, slowly flipping through the display cases.

“Wow,” I thought. “This is the one. This is awesome.”

“Dad! Can I pleeeaase have this? It’s been so long since I’ve gotten one and I’ll pay you back when I get some money and look how awesome it is,” I said in a melted together blur of speech. “Isn’t it awesome?”

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