Last night I had the privilege of being interviewed by Michael Brightside for an episode of his podcast. On top of being a kid and and gracious host, he’s a smart and creative writer, which made for a fun, comfortable, and highly engaging conversation. One of things we talked about …
Does the phoenix ever tire of rising from her own ashes? Maybe each time she is burned downed, bits of her die that don’t come back and the parts that do, are reborn scorched and scarred What if now she simply dreams of sitting Shiva for herself?
Love tears a whole where there wasn’t one before. It does this when it arrives and also when it escapes. And it very rarely leaves the same way it came in. Every time love comes to a close, we simultaneously feel the pain of two wounds: the pain of where …
When I write I do so with a blissful, and sometimes not so blissful, ignorance; a kind of sacred unknowing. I grasp at the ineffable aliveness that undulates underneath my experience of some aspect of the world and I try to give it words. It’s not an endeavor aimed at …
One of the books I’ve been slowly reading my way through this year is E.M. Cioran’s The Trouble With Being Born. It’s an aphoristic work of short philosophical sketches and terse musings, whose depth and density are not diminished by their brevity. With that being said there are passages that …
I reach for books the way most normal, healthy, well-adjusted people reach out to a friend. My social circle has always been small but, these days it’s almost non-existent. Even amongst the tiny collection of compatriots I do have, I am always careful to withhold the full weight of my …
I’ve never made something that wasn’t a painted over failure. Beneath the bits of paper and paint, below the brush strokes and splatter, in the fine print between the words, one can find the remnants and remains of the piece I wish I could have made; the scaffolding of the …
The way we consume a book says a lot about the book, but it also says a lot about us. Some books we read voraciously, we devour them with a carnivorous fervency because it feeds and satisfies some hungry and hollow part of ourselves we didn’t know was starving. Some …
What if every doubt, every question, every apprehension that wonders at the premise: “what if I can’t?”, simultaneously opens us up to the possibility of “What if I can?” In Rainer Maria Rilke’s book, Letters to a Young Poet, he suggests for us to “try to love the questions themselves …
The Rolling Stones sang that “Time is on my side”, but rarely is it ever really on mine. Maybe if I had moves like Jagger it would be. Instead, I have the moves of a man with Irritable Bowel Syndrome. To say that I am often frantic, panicked, and tightly …
