Two double espressos on top of sleep deprivation have lodged my mind in a sweet spot where what I generally consider reality is heightened and blurred and unusually imbued with meaning. At this moment it seems to me the fog outside the grimy bus windows is the result of an atmosphere saturated with metaphor instead… Continue reading Coffee, Baseball, and Fear of Flying
Category: Life/Self
Enlarging My Reduced Life
Moderation. A dirty word. From moderate (Latin) via moderat: reduced, controlled. I’ve had too much moderation. I submit as evidence dreams I’ve not chased: Living in Mexico. Learning to sail. Chucking it all to write. What’ve I been controlled by? Fear. Fear whittled my dreams to wants. My hopes to goals. Thousands of compromises later… Continue reading Enlarging My Reduced Life
Remember Montag
an anti-institutionalization manifesto Hemmed in by semi-sentient algorithms and AI grammar police reading at a seventh-grade level, surrounded by sheeple all too willing to swap their only-ness for approval, to sleep on the sidewalk to buy the latest customizable surveillance gadget, I hereby declare: The central denials of our age are self and place, by… Continue reading Remember Montag
Thigh Highs
Short Story Ellie pulled her hip waders up over her jeans and ran the straps through her belt. “There you go, Baby,” she said to Nathan, “You wanted to see me in thigh highs.” She mock-posed and laughed, the sun reflecting off her aviator sunglasses and her thick, black braids lying on her shoulder. Behind… Continue reading Thigh Highs
Is My Iguana Dream Trying to Tell Me Something?
Rae and I pedaled as quickly as we could. Above us, the evening sky purpled toward evening. Beneath us, majestic, neon-bright iguanas serpentined through the clear water, their sinuous glowing tails trailing behind them like iridescent streamers chasing a comet. We pedaled with everything we had, fighting to maintain headway in the wide, algae-choked canal.… Continue reading Is My Iguana Dream Trying to Tell Me Something?
Three Notes from Semliki
Non-scientific field notes from a chimp tracker Semliki Note #1 — Data Up early with the bats in a soft rain, I’m walking down a steep path to the climate station we’ve set up at the river. The forest is silent except for some restless insects and one or two birds. I raise the kerosene lantern high to… Continue reading Three Notes from Semliki
Dusty Around the Eyes
Names change colors when you are dusty around the eyes. Watch a gerenuk at sunset while listening to a Walkman. These two odd sentences are mnemonics I constructed to remind myself of chains of thought that occurred to me while learning to do anthropological fieldwork in East Africa. Searching the forests of the Semliki Valley… Continue reading Dusty Around the Eyes
Xanax and Legumes
The vasectomy doc named Buzz prescribed Xanax and legumes. “The Xanax is for before,” Buzz said. “While the pharmacist counts the pills, grab a couple bags of frozen peas for the swelling after.” “I’ve got ice packs at home,” I said. “Ice packs won’t mold to your body,” Buzz said, holding up a cupped palm.… Continue reading Xanax and Legumes
New Dreams, Reason Unknown
My dreams have changed. I don’t know why. They’re harking back to my childhood—to the bad-old school days—dredging up long-nurtured hurts, and mashing them up with more recent pain. What’s weird is the mood. These dreams feel good—like my psyche is tearing crusted-over scabs from the edges of old wounds and then sewing the freshly… Continue reading New Dreams, Reason Unknown
Mayan Colors
The Mayans assign a color to each of the four directions and one to the center. So the guidebook says. The color assigned to the center is blue-green. I imagine an enchanted isle where everything makes sense. I conjure soft breezes, a warm ocean. I wish for a compass that points the way. I imagine… Continue reading Mayan Colors