James A. Reeves
Journal Stories + Essays Books Installations Broadcasts About

Ohio

Synthetic tracks for the motorway.

Making an oldies playlist like it’s 1995 and I’m smoking clove cigarettes while speeding down I-75 to the Packard Plant or Saint Andrew’s Hall.

Ohio

The spirit of the information superhighway.

The strike against nefariousness continues. Mastodon feels wholesome. Veronica Vasicka delivers another top-shelf playlist.

Ohio

People behaving poorly in glossy architecture.

Cold running. Twitter might be dying. The Menu was an okay movie. Digital ghosts.

Ohio

A body of water was named after a man who was roasted alive.

It’s nice to have a new place on the map to romanticize. And William Gibson has nothing on the Catholics.

Ohio

There would be less screaming.

Good news: Wolf’s Kompaktkiste is still around. Bad news: I’m on strike.

Ohio

Some faceless behemoth purchased it.

Hopefully there won’t be too many outages on this station while I untangle my nameservers.

Ohio

Sleep has an oddly moral dimension.

The pulse of distant highway traffic in the rain is the most soothing sound I know.

Ohio

I recited the names of cities like a mantra.

C. and I are trying to determine our best route to Vegas.

Ohio

A bright daytime moon hung in the sky.

I’d like to live in a world of apologetic gods and talking satellites.

Ohio

My brain has run out of sleeping juice.

I’ve decided to embrace the upside of insomnia.

Ohio

A secular approach to home improvement.

Above a shuttered rest area, a billboard announced “Jesus Christ is the Answer! Call Dan’s Windows & Flooring!”

Ohio

Good Fortune

I keep this one in my wallet.

Ohio

Someday we will invent kinder gods and new miracles.

Ohio. Sunset: 7:01pm. When I stepped outside this morning, I saw my breath—the first frost of the season.

Ohio

October 1, 2022

It’s the first of October, and I give praise for proper autumn at last. Deeper nights. Sharper weather. There’s room in the air to think.

Ohio

September 5, 2022

Berenice Abbott’s portrait of a magnetic field reminds me of fireworks beneath the eyelids.

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