Pique'n Yer Interest

In September 2008, I found myself in the town of Winchester in Hampshire for a work meeting at a magazine where I freelanced.

Our landlord jacked up the rent to five times more than what we were paying. They're turning this building into a bank.

If you keep making that face it might stay that way... don't crack your knuckles or you'll get arthritis... don't sit too close to the TV or you'll go blind... don't touch yourself or you'll go blind...

On December 16 my girlfriend and I attended the annual Pique Christmas party at Le Gros restaurant.

New Year's resolutions, sigh. So many to make, so many to break, so little time — only an entire year.

This year, we saw the rapid rise and fall of controversial singers (Lana Del Rey), excellent releases from veteran rockers (Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen) and the revival of R&B (The Weeknd, Frank Ocean).

'Twas the week before Christmas, and all through the resort, The weebums of Whistler hung on snow reports, For the weebums were restless and hungry for flakes (And busy with work because that's what it takes.

Tis the season people. No, not the powder season.

The truth can be hard enough, because often with journalism it's a case of lies, damned obscuring or trying to make sense of it all through statistics. Relevance is another matter altogether.

One of my best friends works at a rock 'n' roll hair salon (earning its title for both clients and ambience) in Lower Manhattan on Sullivan Street.