Here's an essay I wrote for MadeMan about my Davy Rothbart obsession.
After reading Davy Rothbart’s hyper-sincere, haplessly romantic 2012 essay collection My Heart is an Idiot (out this month in paperback), I developed intense, confusing feelings for Davy Rothbart. I became moony, overly invested, and a little like, well, Davy Rothbart himself is in his book. I wanted to talk to people about him, but I also didn’t, because I was afraid someone more sophisticated than me would say, “Oh, not Davy Rothbart.” And then I would wind up feeling weird about Davy Rothbart and hating that person.
Read the rest here: Davy Rothbart, Jack Kerouac 2.0.
