Hitting a bank of writer's block and perservering through it.
Seeking insights through imagined scenarios, some bizarre.
Main Streets and numbering systems abound in all five boroughs.
My autistic diary, latest entry.
Unless you’re a sociologist, skip Caroline O’Donoghue’s pedestrian The Rachel Incident. What year is it (#488)?
Taking another look at Ridge Blvd.
Also, remembering John Barth, a literary giant and gentleman.
City lights, city walls.
We’re at sea, and though we paddle, ultimately we go where the waves carry us.
The Atlantic tries to lure readers with an “expert” survey on The Great American Novel. I’m more interested in Colin Barrett’s lean, and not always mean, Wild Houses, the best book so far in 2024.
Learning French through osmosis and German through listening.
Why would she want that ratty old thing?
Hiding who knows what in these potentially explosive candles.
Ako arrived at Jules’ front door with a board game called Hedbanz.
Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.
Women are naturally prone to flighty thinking.
Jules is finally accepting help. And it's not so bad.
Mind, matter and Marxism.
My old-style dream, that of being a true writer-to-be and not a forlorn jerkoff, centered on being productive, resilient, and disciplined.
Good Friday really wasn’t good.
I’ll skip St. Louis, but never Chicago. What year is it (#489)?
The late English author appears on this French talk show (speaking French), with English subtitles.
No bloodbaths allowed! Celebrate the humble huaraches. What year is it (#485)?
The late author talks about the inspiration for his hugely successful series of sci-fi books.
The choice to have, or not, kids shouldn’t be contentious. It’s a personal decision. What year is it (#480)?
Why can’t men be friends? What year is it (#479)?
Son of a gun, big fun on the Bayou. What year is it (#476)?
Or don’t, if the carbon paper’s gone. What year is it (#470)?
Americana is the New Fetish. What year is it (#459)