Taro Puffs the Size of Your Fist
We tooled around the city's perimeter, marveling at its sharp edges.
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Fireworks in the Parking Lot of a Gas Station
We made good time and hit Vegas a night earlier than scheduled.
A Fingernail Moon Rose Over the Rockies
When I woke up this morning, I struggled to remember the state I was in.
The First Pizza Hut is in Wichita
We woke to the melancholic stillness of a holiday morning somewhere in the middle of America. Even the International House of Pancakes was closed.
Movements Are a Relic of the 20th Century
The billboards we passed felt like chapters from one big story: automatic weapon rentals, bulk ammo, Jesus Christ, and lawyers.
Synthetic Tracks for the Motorway
The road trip kicks off tomorrow, and my packing has been delayed by a much more critical matter: putting together a road trip playlist.
Faded Graffiti Like a Vanished Wish
It’s one of those days when it feels like the world’s got its hands in my pockets.
The Spirit of the Information Superhighway
It’s like some mythical creature from the past has wandered into the middle of a twelve-land expressway.
People Behaving Poorly in Glossy Architecture
We convinced ourselves our tweets were important, newsworthy, career-making, or, god forbid, agents for social change, and it made us crazy.
Another Sleepless Night for Reasons Unknown
My bedtime programming hums with the static of insomnia.
Repetition Is Where Things Get Interesting
A shift in the light on the running trail. An unexpected connection on page 172.
A Body of Water Was Named After a Man Who Was Roasted Alive
William Gibson has nothing on the Catholics.