On Driving at Night
There is a particular kind of thinking that only seems to happen during long drives at night, and I have come to depend on it.
Continue reading →Thinker of thoughts · Writer of occasional verse
There is a particular kind of thinking that only seems to happen during long drives at night, and I have come to depend on it.
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Both start with imagining something that doesn't exist yet. The difference is in what happens next.
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I have always been approximately eighteen months behind whatever the current thing is. I have made peace with this.
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A poem about the particular feeling of January — the blank-page quality of it, the cold, the hopeful and the apprehensive.
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We live in an age that has declared war on silence. I've been thinking about what we lose in that war.
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