A Collection of Personal Writing, Photography, and Things I Like
Getting It Done in a Pandemic
“That is the way. You are the unclean hands bearing sustenance, supplies, correspondence. We are the cleaners, the receivers, the curators.”
Cold Start
This platform is old and wooden planks, streaked in yellow paint and sprinkled in piles of salt. We wait. We sniffle. We breathe steam into the dry and jagged morning air.
The Job of a Shadow
On a Wednesday, Tom’s shadow called out sick. You see, it had been a dry and clear November, so Tom's shadow hadn't had any time to rest.
Updates from the Water Cooler
On Tuesday, Tim brought a picture of his baby in a baseball uniform. Did you see it? Well, his baby’s name is Dean, and Tim put the caption, “Deanball,” which is a play on “beanball” and made everyone laugh. It was adorable.
A Life Conducted
For tears and years, life rushes by, a colorful dizzying torrent. An orchestra blowing, bowing, plucking, and tuning peg turns in a clamor. In thumbs and fingers and spit-valve dumps, the noise grows louder. And louder. AND LOUDER.
Jeremy's Christmas List
I’m never sure how to start letters. Is that a good start? Do I need more of an intro? Probably not. I mean, you’re Santa Claus. You know a lot of stuff.
young love.
It was his dreams that tortured him most: his dreams contained her and so he feared sleep.