Journal

Dispatches and speculations from the American roadside.



June 25, 2020

Grace

As I listened to a woman talk to the pigeons, I began humming that Jesus’ blood never failed me yet.

June 24, 2020

Sand

They’re calling it the Gorilla Dust Cloud, and you can see it from outer space.

June 23, 2020

Routine

For years I would reach for my telephone the moment I woke up, groping for it with a junkie sense of need.

June 22, 2020

Phase

She made a comment about her life that seems like a solid piece of wisdom for dealing with any kind of history: “I need to look back, but I don’t need to stare.”

June 21, 2020

Radioland

During commercial breaks, I sang along to radio jingles for machines that control your brainwaves while you sleep.

June 20, 2020

Solstice

People are edgy, their dreams infected with anxiety if they can sleep at all.

June 19, 2020

Midnight

I scrolled through streets named after Hank Williams and Big Mama Thornton while the radio worried about leftists and alien abductions.

June 18, 2020

Convulsion

More than ever, surrealism might be the best strategy for surviving these days.

June 17, 2020

Tactile

And I’m reminded that I think better without the screen tugging at my thoughts like a magnet.

June 16, 2020

Reconciliation

I want to square my life with these instructions from Thich Nhat Hanh: “Vow to work for reconciliation by the most silent and unpretentious mean possible.”

June 15, 2020

Wolf

They call it the hour of the wolf, and I think it’s reassuring there’s a name for this time, that others feel it too.

June 14, 2020

Need

Sometimes my mind lands on a jittery thought: screens have become our reality and the physical world simply exists to serve their needs.