James A. Reeves
Journal Stories + Essays Books Installations Broadcasts About

Mojave Desert

The sensation of slippage continues.

The desert is littered with bizarre facts, and I often think I invented them, like a fragment from a dream or a misremembered film.

Ohio

The spirit of the information superhighway.

The strike against nefariousness continues. Mastodon feels wholesome. Veronica Vasicka delivers another top-shelf playlist.

Ohio

People behaving poorly in glossy architecture.

Cold running. Twitter might be dying. The Menu was an okay movie. Digital ghosts.

Ohio

Some faceless behemoth purchased it.

Hopefully there won’t be too many outages on this station while I untangle my nameservers.

Ohio

A secular approach to home improvement.

Above a shuttered rest area, a billboard announced “Jesus Christ is the Answer! Call Dan’s Windows & Flooring!”

Ohio

August 18, 2022

This morning I fed a robot a few sentences from the novel I’m writing, and it generated some startlingly accurate pictures.

Ohio

Like trying to retrofit an 8-track player.

Can anyone recommend a solid alternative to Apple Music that will sync my mp3s with my desktop and telephone?

Ohio

April 27, 2022

I think I’ve managed to switch on the comments in case anyone wants to say hello or recommend a movie or a song.

London

March 19, 2022

It was nice to believe in the future for a little while.

Ohio

January 18, 2022

Clear skies with highs in the mid-thirties, and it finally snowed last night.

Ohio

The hum of machinery you could see.

Another frigid and atmospherically pointless day without any snow. My brand new cassette tape arrived.

Ohio

January 9, 2022

The grey skies of January continue, the moon is in its first quarter, and I bought a tiny telephone.

Ohio

January 3, 2022

Writing about online living feels tacky for some reason, even though it might be the only thing we have left in common.

Ohio

January 2, 2022

While I wasn’t paying attention, my life became gamified into metrics and streaks.

Ohio

December 28, 2021

These blurry days between Christmas and New Year’s Eve stand outside of time.

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