Já jsem cizinec, a nerozumím moc česky
Trying to teach myself a notoriously difficult language, not to mention how to be a FAMU-worthy filmmaker, honestly sounded easier than not knowing what I was good at.
I Once Ruined a Balcony in Ghana
But the day came when I felt like I was drowning in my own stories.
Beware of Dog
Before you plunge the pitchforks into my gut and toss the torches on my belongings, hear me out.
A Small Sound
An eerie fear creeps in, the kind that grows in stature the longer you don’t know where a sound is coming from. The longer you don’t know.
The Gluttony of Fear
Deep in the those woods, where the Severn River winds through White spruces and Balsam firs, I wonder if any of the trees are old enough to have lived during both Jack’s lifetime and my own.
Living
This was the year I stayed. I stayed in a job. I stayed in a place. I stayed in a relationship (marriage, it turns out, will do that).
Authorial, Historical, Ghostly, and Sad: The Many Voices of Lincoln in the Bardo: A Novel
In some respects, Lincoln in the Bardo doesn’t really feel like a novel at all (despite the insistent subtitle), but is rather a carefully curated collection of voices that reside in some literary bardo between genres.
Realized, Realizing
Our archaeology professor was a young, soft-spoken postdoc who lectured with a thick Italian accent in a lilting, almost sing-song way: “The Etruscan potter realized the bowl from native clay.”
A Voyage Abroad, or: The Author’s Notes on a Trip Aboard the Victoria Clipper, Rendered into Rhyming Verse
As bags are grabbed and knots are lost
And papers stowed away unread
The ship approaches final berth
The clouds behind, the sun ahead
Wyoming
My heart thunders as I pass the unglittering sign staking out the bucking bronco state: WELCOME TO WYOMING – FOREVER WEST. Here, I think, lies a land I’ve never traveled.
