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Mille Miglia New England

Lago di Como, meet Lake Winnipesaukee. Passo dello Stelvio, say hi to Jefferson Notch Road. Autostrade Uno, I give you I-93. It’s good that we get to know each other. Because this Connecticut Yankee is going to traverse King James’ old colonial court aboard his very sleek, very Italian motorbike, searching for la dolce vita in the…
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September is the Cruelest Month

I remember reading T.S. Eliot’s masterwork The Wasteland back when I was an arrogant, impudent sophomore at the University of Vermont, arguing with my professor (as arrogant and impudent sophomores will do) about the poem’s very premise. As a refresher (or if you’re unfamiliar): The Wasteland is a meditation on the teasing, soul-crushing nature of…
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A Town Called Allis

For American kids who came of age in the Eighties, The Jam were a slightly off-kilter band. Not as iconically punk as the Sex Pistols, not as commercially successful as the Clash (my first true love), and not as sonically original as Gang of Four. Nevertheless, one spin of This Is the Modern World and…