Beer cans on the beach A-OK...in South Korea
Abnormal sees and takes opportunities out west
Ian Anderson 5 p.m., July 27
Tim Brookes
Tim Brookes, born in England, living in Vermont, wrote for the Reader in the late 1990s and 2000s.
Articles by Tim Brookes
A Ben & Jerry's ice cream cake comes to mind
Happy weddings are all alike; every unhappy wedding is unhappy in its own way. I've been married three times. My first and third were both happy, and startlingly alike. Both took place within a few ...
Guitar: An American Life
Guitar: An American Life by Tim Brookes. Grove Atlantic Press; May 2005; 339 pages; $24. Audio book version Blackstone Audio. FROM THE DUST JACKET: "Shortly before his 50th birthday, baggage handlers destroyed Tim Brookes's guitar, ...
Limeys in a State of Grace
The English among us.
You don’t go to a pub to meet new people: you go to a pub to meet people you already know — in a sense, to avoid people. The pub allows us to be sociable without taking risks;
The Memory Wars
Problems with the Dale Akiki-Faith Chapel case
Here are two stories about memory: When Carol Hopkins visited New York as a young woman, her best friend said to her, "Whenever you get into a cab, look at the license number. That way, ...
Never in the History of the World Has Man Moved Such Volumes of Water Such Distances
A thinking man's plumber
The Romans were as efficient at plumbing as they were at building roads, bringing water from the hills into Rome, and used an astonishing 300 gallons per person per day, more than twice what even Californians use.
The Freeway Is Nobody's Home
San Diego commute - by bicycle, trolley, car pool, van pool, Coaster, and car
The first curious thing about commuting by car is that in some ways it is the exact opposite of travel in general. When we travel we do so with our eyes and ears open, asking ...
Everything Changes in Six Minutes
San Diego cricketers in exile
Practice begins at 5:30 SDCC time (that is, about 5:50) on Wednesday evening. It’s warmer than this in England, dammit. I haven’t brought my white cable-knit sweater, and I put on a grey sweatshirt, feeling vaguely illegitimate.
