Fifty Thousand Dollars | 
pickAnyone who's experienced existential dread or a feeling of ennui will relate to this long poem. To be honest, I don't always do well with poetry. I often feel like I'm not really getting it, or like it's just trying to show off how smart it is. But Weatherhead's prose isn't stuffy like that. It hit me in a raw, real (and at the same time, surreal), down-to-earth way. Beautifully written.
pickThis is a long poem like work composed of one-liners. Some seem to follow patterns while others seem random, at first. I think the interesting thing reading it now as compared to when it was composed or published is that it originally was about mundane daily life, but that included routines and people and now for many of us it doesn‘t. I marked several lines but none more startling than this one:
“Distance sweeps through the city like a plague”
