Once called “a modern-day Jack Kerouac” by NPR after he hitchhiked 7,000 miles through the United States, Josh deLacy has since found homes in the Pacific Northwest, the Episcopal Church, and the post calvin. He is the founder of Branded Look LLC, communications director at St. Luke’s Church, and a professional public speaker. Josh’s writing has appeared in places such as The Emerson Review, Front Porch Review, and Perspectives.

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Tea and Tranquility

“…a rediscovery of the sacred in the immanent, the spiritual within the secular… it is our everyday world, not some other one, that, in the words of the poet Gerard Manley Hopkins, ‘is charged with the grandeur of God.’” ~Harvey Cox, The Future of Faith...

This Is A Lie

D.A.R.E. to explore the unexplored. Here be monsters and suddenly we’re the first ones, wading through myth and legend and finding freedom, happiness, and warmth. We don’t see dragons or lose our grades. We don’t get pregnant. We aren’t shoving suppositories up our asses à la Trainspotting or whoring à la Requiem for a Dream. It’s just nice. Warm and cozy and soft. One of us uses the word “underwhelming.”

PunchTrump Love

I don’t know about Saudi Arabia. I’m not rich, either. I don’t lead an empire. I don’t have Kurt Cobain’s talent or Robin Williams’ fame or Donald Trump’s confidence. I’m just another guy. Another unexceptional guy. Every morning I shower with second-guesses. I brush my teeth with self-doubt. Half of my personality comes from insecurity. Maybe more. I’m not sure.

The Internet is Cowboy Country

It’s not a pretty place. The hazy opium dens and the tobacco-smoke saloons disappeared from dusty California mining towns long ago, and they’ve since set up shop here. You want opium? You got it. How about Craigslist prostitutes? pirated textbooks? fake I.D.s or stolen credit cards?

Me and My Book

No one believes it. I didn’t believe it, until I grabbed the bumper, tried to lift, and realized I didn’t even know how to grip the thing. I’m writing about an experience I still don’t fully understand, and the sharing of it is even more incomprehensible.


I got naked with a bunch of old men and tried to figure out how to wash my booty without insulting anyone, and that pretty much sums up my trip to Japan.

I Am Failing

I know that the muscled, emotionally stable mountain climber who woos intelligent women, writes bestselling memoirs, and dispenses wisdom to a crowd of intimate friends won’t ever materialize.

Same-Day Devilry

And Amazon, for all its bullying and undercutting, holds no monopoly. It is, in fact, the opposite: a monopsonist, a beloved monster reversing the grapes of wrath, in a sense, so product flows like honey while the sellers rot.


One day of climbing and two nights of camping and an eternity of driving down this endless, evening road when I rounded a turn and my headlights found a hitchhiker.

It looked like a woman.

Love is a Sentence

We promise love between sheets and in delivery rooms and at hospital bedsides. We say “God is love” and “the greatest of these is love.” But when it comes down to it, whenever we talk about love, none of us are really saying the same thing.


Courtesy of a racist sixty-year-old neighbor still living with his mother; a virtually nonexistent housing inventory due in turn to Jeff Bezos, Mt. Rainier, and murky multifamily home regulations; the less-than-shining precedent set by other groups of male,...

A Writer’s Creed

It spoke to Plath the suicidal, Keruouc the drunk, Hemingway the shotgunned, and—Snyder, voice of Buddhist Beats, who did not die of lead or alcohol, but found peace in tin cups and axe handles.

Sitting In the Aisle

You don’t talk to people on the Metro. You don’t talk to coworkers, you don’t talk to friends, and you especially don’t talk to strangers. Talking is the mark of the tourist.

The Pre-Exodus Project

I discovered the other side of recorded music. The side we didn’t talk about in Professor Nordling’s class, and the side that makes recorded music even more challenging, I think, than live music.

Hot Food Makes Me Happy

But this is efficient, I tell myself. Hot food requires a stove, and a stove requires money, and I am a sophomore trying to backpack Europe on a budget. Food seemed like the best place to cut corners.

Jesus Christ, Katy Perry

Katy Perry supports gay marriage. Katy Perry wears latex dresses. Katy Perry shoots whipped cream from her bra and sings about booze and cocks and parties.

Stealth Camping: Part Three

Maps do not mark nameless places. Guidebooks rarely print recommendations of ambiguous legality. So the frugal traveler must listen to vague rumors and offhand comments. Although they carry more risk, they also carry more potential than any official source.

Stealth Camping: Part Two

I approached the Mustang with my hands raised in surrender. No weapons. No threats. I passed through the glare of the headlights and saw three men sitting in the car. All were big in the Mike Tyson way, and all three looked angry.

Urban Rednecks

From the OED’s inbred, perverted cousin, Urban Dictionary: Although the idea of an Urban Redneck would at first seem an oxymoron, they do exist, and are actually quite common. There are three kinds of Urban Rednecks.

Quick Stress, Slow Stress

One thing I miss about school is stress. Quick stress. The kind that comes from five deadlines in four hours. Quick stress that keeps you worried at night—Do I know game theory? Should I revise again? Will she curve the test? Quick stress that keeps you too busy to...

A Day in the District

Orderly mobs with agendas of social change and economic prosperity flowed around me, people branded with “D.C. haircuts” and business casual.

We Had Lived

In case my brother dies before me, he and I have already planned his funeral. It will go, more or less, something like this:

I Am Lord Voldemort

The first of Adalbert Waffling’s Fundamental Laws of Magic: “Tamper with the deepest mysteries—the source of life, the essence of self—only if prepared for consequences of the most extreme and dangerous kind.”

Messy Resolutions

My resolutions are bricoleur. They are messy and vibrant and ambitious and mundane. It is a dirty, wrinkled list held together with Scotch tape, because this is the time for it.

Thanksgiving Lies

Normally, I hate lying. I prefer honesty and the rewards and consequences that come with it. But I was loving this kind of deception.

I Do Not Delight In Sacrifice

I can’t lump the car crash victim with an accidental pain killer addiction into the same category as a heroin junkie who pawns stolen TVs and old women’s jewelry.

Let’s Go Exploring

I saw a 1958 Chevy Cameo last weekend. For those who don’t know your classic vehicles (like me), a 1958 Cameo looks like that picture on the left. Old trucks don’t normally get me excited, but this one had exactly 1.3 miles on its odometer. Fifty-five years old, and...

Phishers of Men

Say what you will about jam bands and hippies—Phish fans have enthusiasm. More than the music, more than the thrill of seeing famous performers, I liked the concert for its energy.