Writing
Fields and Waves
Berenice Abbott’s portrait of a magnetic field reminds me of fireworks beneath the eyelids and my childhood conception of God.
Old Notebook, New Notebook
Today I learned that Cheez-Its were invented in Ohio. There’s magic here. There’s also magic in a fresh notebook.
Pictures from a Bad Dream
This morning I fed a robot a few sentences from the novel I’m writing, and it generated some startlingly accurate pictures.
Rewire
Ohio. Sunset: 9:05pm. The longest day of the year, and, thank god, soon we’ll be making more night. This journal will become a halfway house for homeless paragraphs from the stories I’m writing.
Morning Man
Utah. White skies, flurries, and temperatures around zero. The days around my birthday often find me rethinking the rhythm of my life and nursing morning fantasies.
Middle Path
Ohio. The snow outside my window is melting as soon as it piles up, and there might be a lesson here.
Word Count
Ohio. Wind chills in the single digits and still no snow. If I’m not paying attention, I can push commas around for hours.
Ship
Ohio. Forty degrees with gusty winds. The sun goes down at 5:21pm tonight. In the far corner of the library, an elderly man sighs over a big dusty book of trees.
Post-Internet
Writing about online living feels tacky for some reason, even though it might be the only thing we have left in common.
Rainy Day
The first day of the year, and there’s a new supermoon tonight. I tried my best to feel fresh and brand new for these first hours of 2022.
Freewriting
Sunset: 4:27pm. Last night I watched C. paint, and she moved so quick and loose, belonging entirely to the moment as she swirled her ink across a massive canvas.
Burning
Sunset: 4:35pm. Tonight the moon is full. “When you do something, you should burn yourself completely, like a good bonfire, leaving no trace of yourself.”