by Xan Holbrook During the trial of Michael Jackson’s doctor, I happened to be at my mother’s house. We watched a news report that detailed the extent of Jackson’s pharmaceutical drug addiction. My mother, a proud NHS nurse of 40 years, shook her head in incredulity at the drugs Jackson’s

Earbuds in, you’re rushing up the steel subway stairs two at a time. Running late, bagel in one hand and Metro Card in the other. New York comes at your broke ass pretty fast, but so far you’re keeping up.  Then you round a corner, and everything slows down. Prone