A hotel somewhere in Pennsylvania, 2018

Tonight an old friend in New Orleans reminded me that even if I’m wrestling with the idea of faith, I’m in conversation with something bigger than myself. Perhaps doubt can become a form of faith; certainty cannot.

Sometimes I blame modern-day aesthetics for my difficulties. The optics seem wrong for devotion. The blue glow, the squinched face. The restless clicking and scrolling rather than staring and contemplating. But to argue against technology is not only boring, it lands on the wrong side of history—as if claiming that less access to information or reinstalling hurdles of time and space might be a better thing.

Emeralds – Access Granted

Does It Look Like I’m Here? | Editions Mego, 2010 | Bandcamp
Each night in 2020, I wrote a short post for a series called Notes From the End of a World because I wanted to etch these days into my memory. Before the world changed completely.
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