
Anniversary
Since college, time has increasingly moved, it seems, in circles.
Since college, time has increasingly moved, it seems, in circles.
The trip was never just the photos.
“Better, we thought, to wait out the clock than go looking for new friends.”
Not every experience survives translation into meaning.
Cities veer in the public imagination from weird and enchanted to crime-ridden and drug-addled.
Beyond the walls, the infected lurk—zombies in all but name.
Their poems a problem to be intimidated by, and then picked apart, and then finally, exhaustingly brute-forced into yet another five-paragraph essay.
ChatGPT can compose serviceable feminist criticism, of the kind I’d expect to receive from my first-year undergrads.
On good days, I remember that a job is just a job and that sometimes jobs change.
the Clock has given vent to a slowly spiraling sense of despair.
How do you narrate to yourself how you have changed?
Kimmerer’s book is—I should stop myself. It’s one of those books that’s easy to lapse into cliché when describing.
I don’t see what the big deal is.
The denomination would like for things to be settled.
What does it mean to try to persuade when you don’t think you can?
It’s the quiet sense of time slowed down, of time doubled back on itself, that I enjoy about this morning walk
Words like fond, roux, and laminated dough mean something to me now.
Missionary Conquest’s colonialism for Christ is not exceptional at all.
In the US, opposition to the left is as American as apple pie and as invisible as water is to a fish.
I’m not much for that old chestnut: that those who don’t know their history are doomed to repeat it.
Sometimes opacity can be an ethic.
It is growing, the poem, quick as trees.
Inertia doesn’t require much, after all. It never does.
Zeroing in isn’t always the solution.
This essay is not about Marx.
In the stage play of my life, I am always the most vivid, the most fully realized, actor.
In many respects, Hummingbird Salamander is a typical VanderMeer story. Except when it isn’t.
I found that I could barely bring myself to open it. The thought of reading it just felt … wrong
In a happy marriage of Star Wars and Friedrich Nietzsche: the abyss strikes back.
People are storied, first, before they are instructed.