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.

Journal

Repetition is where things get interesting.

Repetition on a grey November day.

Journal

The bare trees reveal new scenery.

For weeks I’ve been grinding through histories of medieval Europe in search of a point of inspiration.

Ohio

My brain has run out of sleeping juice.

I’ve decided to embrace the upside of insomnia.

Ohio

August 31, 2022

Today I learned that Cheez-Its were invented in Ohio. There’s magic here. There’s also magic in a fresh notebook.

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

And thank God, soon we’ll be making more night.

This journal might become a halfway house for homeless paragraphs from the stories I’m writing.

Utah

February 6, 2022

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.

Journal

Middle Path

Ohio. The snow outside my window is melting as soon as it piles up, and there might be a lesson here.

Ohio

January 10, 2022

Wind chills in the single digits and still no snow. If I’m not paying attention, I can push commas around for hours.

Ohio

January 5, 2022

In the far corner of the library, an elderly man sighs over a big dusty book of trees.

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 1, 2022

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.

New York City

December 9, 2021

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.

New York City

November 18, 2021

“When you do something, you should burn yourself completely, like a good bonfire, leaving no trace of yourself.”

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