six lines #10.

Lincoln Michel is not only one of the coolest people I see around town, he's also a great writer and someone who is, in every moment, doing some major processing of the given situation. One can always see the wheels turning behind his eyes that are behind his glasses. According to his bio on TheRumpus.net, his writing appears or is forthcoming in The Oxford American, Bookforum, elimae, The Mississippi Review and elsewhere. He is also a co-editor of the accessible and illuminating spread, Gigantic.

I must admit that Lincoln is one person who has shocked me, and it is not always easy for me to be shocked. A brief account:

We're in a cab from Williamsburg, headed to Chelsea, and we're getting onto the FDR from Houston. I'm sitting in the backseat and I ask Lincoln, who is in front: "Are we getting on the FDR?" He looks back at me as if I had just asked him if aliens wear underwear. "I don't know where we are," he responds, and mellows into the seat.

The ease with which you sport your geographical ignorance is most impressive, Lincoln. Is this a result of living so far uptown? Or has this always been a conscious personal choice? I hope you're not offended by me revealing this about you; I love getting to know these sorts of fun details about a person. My guess is that your skill with words takes up the space in your brain that might otherwise be claimed by a city map.

Speaking of aliens:

[no title for this one]
by Lincoln Michel

ALIEN: After searching all corners of the universe I’ve found your blue planet. I believe ours are the only two intelligent species in the universe. Let us trade information so that both our cultures can grow from the shared knowledge.

HUMAN: (SILENT)

ALIEN: I sense you are surprised by my use of the English language. This translation node wrapped around my throat is just one of my civilization's technological wonders that I can share with you.

HUMAN: (SILENT)

ALIEN: Is the node malfunctioning? I am trying to say that—

HUMAN: (INTERRUPTING) Look guy, I don't talk to strangers.

END