Somewhere in Arizona, 2021

Sunset: 5:52pm. A waning crescent moon on Halloween with a high of 64 degrees. I’m back in New York City, where everything is smaller and harder, and the city is constantly inserting itself into my thoughts like another person in the room. The city is still glittering and grand. The problem is me. I think I’ve had enough input. Enough inspiration.

My body moves down First Avenue, but my brains are still in the desert, driving around the quiet margins of Vegas through roomy streets with tan bungalows and garbled strip malls with every service from every nation. C. and I have decided to move to Nevada next spring—partially for the lower cost of living, mostly for the aesthetic of night-driving down the parkways of a desert city with neon spraying across the windshield and the Chromatics on the radio.

This is the plan, and I’ve made a note to reread this entry six months from now. Because life has a funny way. If you want to hear God laugh, etc. But I hope I’ll be reading this from the desert.

Chromatics – Lady Night Drive

Cherry | Italians Do It Better, 2017 | More
Notify of
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments
Related Reading
March 2, 2020


Tonight I crave the cadence of the desert. Groom Lake. Chocolate Mountain Gunnery Range. Devil's Hole. Epic names that speak of salvation and redemption.
May 6, 2020


It’s becoming a nightly habit: scrolling through desert scenery while fantasizing about horizons, speed, and possibilities.
April 7, 2020


And so much space there's nothing to think about except something resembling god.
Would love your thoughts, please comment.x