Philosophy

This man was the antichrist. Yes, he was what the end of civilization looked and sounded like.

Ohio. Tonight the sun sets at 5:20pm, and I’m still thinking about my soul. Goodness. What does it mean to be a good person? Sometimes it feels like striving towards a faint light on the horizon that turns to vapor when we draw near. Maybe we punish ourselves

The only way I can understand these uneasy days is to write about them. But finding my own thoughts has felt difficult lately. It seems to require more effort to keep my brains out of the muck of today’s opinion-mongers and two-minute hates, these digital screamers and bad-faith dealers.

A ninety-degree day in New York, bright and trashy. Is there a word for the tendency (or desire) to leave one dish unwashed, one bag unpacked, or one message unanswered? There’s an interesting line between procrastination and fear of completion. Both conditions apply to the book I’m forever

It’s hard to remember there was a moment when the novel coronavirus was finite, when patient zero’s immune system might have wiped it from the earth completely. Or the virus could have died with its prey before infecting a second person. How many other vicious little organisms have

My thoughts return to the stars again because there’s nowhere to go on a Saturday night during a pandemic. Consider the word ecstasy in its strict sense, a Greek word that describes standing outside of one’s body. To be elsewhere. To escape the self. And once freed, where

I’ve gotten in the habit of walking to the river each night to look at the sky. Lately I’ve been overwhelmed with the desire to know the language of constellations, the location of celestial bodies. It seems like a tragedy to go through life not knowing the names