Brett Felty

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Brett Felty

Brett Felty

Yesterday I turned 30 and I got to spend the day making a movie with so many of my very favorite people. Grateful doesn’t begin to describe it, but I’m too tired for more words than that.

BTS photos by the inimitable @tim.barker.jr

When I was a kid I’d fake sick and mom would let me play hooky from school. She’d pry me out of bed and take me on her morning errands, which usually involved a haircut housecall—an elderly woman whose social security payments woul

Ten years ago on this day I nearly died. It wasn’t the first time, but it was the closest. I remember because in the hospital someone asked another patient, ”what happened?” And she said, ”9/11, 9/11.”

“Did you l

The quietest place in LA is Chinatown on a weekday morning. I slip into a bookstore on the corner I never knew existed and thumb through a fire-orange paperback titled Tales by LeRoi Jones. I ask the desk lady if this is that same LeRoi Jones, the on

The first clock was set to 3/4 time and the sun nodded in accord, not hurried, then faster, faster. The earth circled to that staccato rhythm playing peek-a-boo with the light.

The first song was written in honeysuckle buds and the first instrument

You run out the door in Batman pajamas, barefoot (as usual), and sprint to the end of the long gravel road where your father’s pickup hovers by the mailbox. If you were any heavier your feet would bleed but you’re so young you make no imp

You can carry weight or you can carry water. In some ways that’s the fundamental question: to be someone or to be of service. I think about the acid church and what the rabbi said, hearsay from some guru in a cave: the east needs the west, and

The smog makes the mountains look like ghosts, like history. The air in front of you is clear, and you don’t know why. You don’t really know anything.

A few feet in front of you a person wrapped in a blanket greets a friend and wraps the

Yesterday I turned 30 and I got to spend the day making a movie with so many of my very favorite people. Grateful doesn’t begin to describe it, but I’m too tired for more words than that.

BTS photos by the inimitable @tim.barker.jr

When I was a kid I’d fake sick and mom would let me play hooky from school. She’d pry me out of bed and take me on her morning errands, which usually involved a haircut housecall—an elderly woman whose social security payments woul

Ten years ago on this day I nearly died. It wasn’t the first time, but it was the closest. I remember because in the hospital someone asked another patient, ”what happened?” And she said, ”9/11, 9/11.”

“Did you l

The quietest place in LA is Chinatown on a weekday morning. I slip into a bookstore on the corner I never knew existed and thumb through a fire-orange paperback titled Tales by LeRoi Jones. I ask the desk lady if this is that same LeRoi Jones, the on

The first clock was set to 3/4 time and the sun nodded in accord, not hurried, then faster, faster. The earth circled to that staccato rhythm playing peek-a-boo with the light.

The first song was written in honeysuckle buds and the first instrument

You run out the door in Batman pajamas, barefoot (as usual), and sprint to the end of the long gravel road where your father’s pickup hovers by the mailbox. If you were any heavier your feet would bleed but you’re so young you make no imp

You can carry weight or you can carry water. In some ways that’s the fundamental question: to be someone or to be of service. I think about the acid church and what the rabbi said, hearsay from some guru in a cave: the east needs the west, and

The smog makes the mountains look like ghosts, like history. The air in front of you is clear, and you don’t know why. You don’t really know anything.

A few feet in front of you a person wrapped in a blanket greets a friend and wraps the

Brett Felty

brettfelty@gmail.com