Childish Happiness

Childish Happiness

An emotional massacre is really what I wanted, leaving happiness as the only feeling left standing. It’s what made the most sense at the time, but it doesn’t anymore.

To Catch A Train

To Catch A Train

I took a train every morning in Budapest to a little café called Budapest Bagel: a bar and a bagel shop where I somehow received college credit to write short stories and read novels following a longstanding expatriate tradition.

Christmas Trauma

Christmas Trauma

But I have not yet figured out how to be happy in a world that is torn apart every day by war and hate, by hunger and sickness, by itself. I’ve learned this semester that being a social worker necessarily means knowing that there is more fallenness in this world than we can bear.

A Sort of Homecoming

A Sort of Homecoming

Recently, my wife and I watched all six Star Wars movies in preparation for The Force Awakens—a feat I hadn’t done in years—and I remember my vaguely alarmed reaction during the credit-crawl for A New Hope.

HONY

HONY

Stanton has a massive platform, and he stands on it with poise and humility. In an online world that screeches with hostility and self-aggrandizement, Stanton is the most elusive and vital kind of storyteller.

Letters to God

Letters to God

“Can’t you feel that?” Pastor said one Sunday. “Can’t you feel that breeze?” I could. I was pretty sure it was the air conditioning kicking in.

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