As is evident from even a cursory examination of the post dates of this website, it’s been a while since I clicked digits on keyboard with the intention of creating or, as was the case this evening, put an actual pen to actual paper. And, as I’ve recently kvetched elsewhere about my lack of writing . . . → Read More: Presents
Post-Script: A rough draft of this, I believe, was the first time I played the Ten Sentences game with myself. It’s a faithful rendering of what was, in reality, one of the most existentially depressing, grotesque, and sorry ordeals I’ve ever seen. Though over my years of recreational self-medication I so commonly went to work . . . → Read More: Post-Script: The Mating Game
Once, while waiting to sit down for dinner at a local bistro, I realized something unprecedented had happened: I forgot to bring a book. As I dine alone whenever I dine out, this is a relatively serious problem. In the pre-smartphone era, I didn’t have the option of fiddling with a clever cellular app. I . . . → Read More: Check, Please!
I lay next to you. No: not next to, entangled with. No: not entangled, braided. No: there are no prepositions that fit our configuration. We lay swaddled in the soft cotton of bedsheets; our arms and legs akimbo, your thinner limbs weaving in and through the acute angles of my bent elbows and knees. In . . . → Read More: We Suck the Moon
Once, in a workshop, I was pressed by a shockingly hostile roundtable of peers to explain why, precisely, it is that I write. Within the cobwebby cortex of my brain, a number of fragmented imaginings popped and fizzed like fireworks as, aloud, I moved through a series of speech disfluencies—“uh,” “well,” “you know,” . . . → Read More: I Am Trying to Break Your Heart
The semicolon is the most complex of all punctuation marks; it is also the most beautiful. Aesthetically dazzling, it comprises two separate symbols; simple, primordial. A hovering sun vertically pursued by fingernail moon; ovum overhanging an intrepid, eager sperm. A fresco of tension: the semicolon as seen by a sensitive semiotician is emblematic of . . . → Read More: ;
Originally, I was only trying to explain the subtler nuances of the moment to my friend.
In the explicated memory, I had quit smoking weeks previously and my sense of smell, deadened by the habit, had returned all at once, all while I slept in on a March morning. I knew something had changed, but . . . → Read More: The Rationale of Sesquipedalism