Journal

Dispatches and speculations from the American roadside.



August 19, 2020

Signs

Somewhere in southeastern Ohio, I drove past two ranch houses sitting side by side with tidy sidewalks and neatly mowed lawns.

August 18, 2020

Jeremiad

A woman at the supermarket kept making a noise I could not decipher.

August 17, 2020

Convention

Somewhere north of Columbus, we tuned in to the first night of the Democratic National Convention.

August 16, 2020

Grind

The body remembers slowly and forgets very quickly.

August 15, 2020

Tornado

Maybe it was the barometer dropping, the rearrangement of air pressure.

August 14, 2020

Buzz

We’ve entered the last stretch of summer when everything is overripe and so green it feels obscene.

August 13, 2020

Lot

An old man pushes a shopping car filled with metal scrap and hollers about demons.

August 12, 2020

Desk

By now I should know the only way to outrun my bullshit is to keep writing.

August 11, 2020

Puzzle

It’s an exhausting puzzle, trying to figure out which parts of this world to let into your head.

August 10, 2020

Bullet

Three days without television or constant internet access—unless I drive twenty minutes to sit in the parking lot of a Speedway gas station.

August 9, 2020

Logs

The cabin smells like cedar. There is no internet here. No cellphone reception either.

August 8, 2020

Cave

Americans of all kinds gathered together to admire their country’s geological features. All is not lost.