Journal
Dispatches and speculations from the American roadside.
Pietà
The image of the Pietà occupies such a distinct place in memory that I often forget it translates to “the pity”.
Eat
I stopped at the window and gaped like a hermit suddenly confronted by society.
Language
How tragic to enter a museum hoping to feel dignified and ennobled, only to walk away feeling like a fool.
Snow
The first day of the last month of this nightly exercise, and I’m thinking about the value of this exercise.
Bear
Light snow here in Ohio, and the weather report was mixed with grim coronavirus forecasts.
Leave
The holidays remind me that I don’t have the type of family that appears in commercials and television specials.
Tree
Domestic rituals of all kinds will be critical during this long winter.
Access
Sometimes I blame modern-day aesthetics for my difficulties. The optics seem wrong for devotion.
Gratitude
Tonight I am grateful because I have a safe place to sleep, food to eat, and the freedom to make my own decisions.
Ash
I miss the dopamine loop, the carrot and the stick, and the rhythm of stepping outside for five minutes after each page or paragraph.
Shop
I tuned into the voice looping over the P.A. system, struck by how it sounded simultaneously rational and insane.
Patterns
There was a time when people believed the stomach’s gurgles and rumbles belonged to the voices of the dead.