Reading

The idea of converting my library into pixels on a screen frightens me. Books are meant to be highlighted and dog-eared, their spines cracked and lying facedown on the kitchen table. This how they become part of the scenery and signposts for our memories.

The Throwback Special

I have zero interest in football, which can make it challenging to move through American life.

The Haunting of Hill House

Hill House, famously not sane, bothers the soul because Jackson describes the perception of horror, not the horror itself.

The Fifth Child

Maybe I was primed for horror because I woke before dawn on a Sunday morning.

Clichés Are Learned the Hard Way

I Put a Lot of Faith in Office Products to Solve My Existential Problems

My map is upside down, inscrutable, and probably for a different planet.

Somnambulist

Gaps and Threads

Midwinter Inventory

While explaining myself to the grumpy clerk behind the glass, I realized I had no idea where I legally lived.

The Memory Police

Broken Scales

Crossroads

Burn yourself completely.

Oryx and Crake

Shadowbahn

In Steve Erickson’s Shadowbahn, the Twin Towers reappear in South Dakota, wholly intact and without explanation.

Temptation

The Potter's Clay

Finished Stephen King’s The Stand today and, even at 1152 pages, I was sad when I read the last sentence, as if a friend had left town for good.

The Fuzzy Line Between Media Consumption and My Soul

Weird

Genre

Glum

Fugue

Attending to the World

Our Broken Sky

Between the Stories

The Woman in the Dunes

This story has seeped into my dreams, grinding at my thoughts like sand in the teeth.

The Story of Philosophy