Journal

Dispatches and speculations from the American roadside.



April 7, 2020

Space

And so much space there’s nothing to think about except something resembling god.

April 6, 2020

Lung

Dig the old lady who cut a tiny hole into her surgical mask so she can keep smoking her Benson & Hedges.

April 5, 2020

Park

We wear bandanas and scarves across our mouths like a haphazard gang or makeshift religion.

April 4, 2020

Sound

Sirens and cheers, these are the sounds that shape our days.

April 3, 2020

Prediction

I thought I’d devote my energies to becoming pure and benedictine, brand new and all-seeing. Instead I scroll and refresh.

April 2, 2020

Doubt

Now they’re saying the virus spreads by talking and breathing. We can kill each other just by being a person.

April 1, 2020

Passing

Passing each other on the sidewalk, we hold our breaths like children in a graveyard.

March 31, 2020

Shake

Don’t shake out your dirty laundry, the television says. You might release a viral cloud.

March 30, 2020

Cheer

There’s the guy I’ve always wondered about, the one across the street who leaves big chunks of bread on the fire escape for the pigeons.

March 29, 2020

Grid

Meanwhile, I’m reverting to the diet of a five-year-old. All I want to eat are peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

March 28, 2020

Conspiracy

Each headline is more disorienting than the last, and these pandemic days are breeding baroque conspiracies.

March 27, 2020

Mojo

Every night the Electrifying Mojo would sign off with the same message and I want us to hear it in our heads now, delivered in a slow baritone with a grin around the edges.