Journal
Dispatches and speculations from the American roadside.
Headlights
Ohio. Sunset: 9:02pm. You can never see further than your headlights: this old slice of trucker philosophy makes more sense to me with each passing year.
Acid Camp
Ohio. Sunset: 8:54pm. The moon is brand new, my computer gave me an eye exam, and Johnny Cash is growling “I See a Darkness” across 140 beats per minute.
“Only in a Rerun”
The Running Man became my ur-text for a sleazy future of trashcan fires, black markets, station hijacking, and vicious game show hosts.
Windshield
Ohio. Sunset: 8:49pm. I wonder if the health of a society can be pegged to the nerves of its motorists.
Best MP3 Player?
Can anyone recommend a solid alternative to Apple Music that will sync my mp3s with my desktop and telephone?
Maps
Ohio. Sunset: 8:35pm. My map is upside down, inscrutable, and probably for a different planet.
Not That You Mind the Killing
The Night of the Hunter opens with the disembodied heads of five children floating in the cosmos and gets weirder from there.
Hand of God
Ohio. Sunset: 8:30pm. There’s a waxing crescent moon, and I’m reading about God.
Rot
I think I’ve managed to switch on the comments in case anyone wants to say hello or recommend a movie or a song.
Greenland
I’m somewhere over Greenland, and the sun will never go down because we’re flying west.
London
Mostly cloudy skies with a high near seventy degrees while C. and I sat in the National Gallery, awaiting the results of our mandatory Covid tests so we could fly home.
Brighton
Why is elegant decay more appealing than the gleaming new thing? Perhaps because it inspires sympathy, even a sense of recognition.