We spent a lot of our free time throwing rocks at cars. That’s just sort of what you did growing up in the sticks with not a lot of stuff to keep you entertained.
Reflections on bloodlines and fatherhood.
Ask anyone about Bill and the first thing they’ll mention is his white t-shirt. It’s the only shirt he ever wore.
I snapped myself out of the daydream, yet again befuddled as to why I was considering Hemingway.
If not Italy or Holland, then where are we headed?
Every time something major is poised to happen in my life, my wife, Caitlin, and I split for the coast. This is a deliberate action.
I’m not one to believe in vague portents, but after living through a year as awful as 2020, I’m not really sure what to believe anymore.
On the opposite end, there are the forgotten. The lottery nobody wants to win, but must be won by some. The unluckily lucky ones, the one-in-a-million that nobody wishes to be.
Jo never thought of himself as a river guy, per se, yet one morning he awoke in a canoe, floating down a body of water that clearly was a river.
With a chainsaw, a rake and a machete, I set out to butcher the bramble.
The dream is always the same. I’m stuck in Mesa and it’s the last place I want to be.
Arturo was nearly an old caver and dreaded becoming like the men who would drink rum and share their own legends throughout the night.
Andy Moon’s two most recent works of short fiction: “The Genius” and “The Dungeon.”
There’s no telling how these things will play out, what his life will hold for him, because right now he’s just an idea, a bump in Caitlin’s stomach.
America, the vast and simultaneous.
I grew up believing the world was a nurturing place. September 11 obliterated that worldview.
‘Given what I’d done, and the speed with which they were pursuing me, my only reasonable course of action was to disappear into the woods.’
Notes on an Irreverent Pregnancy
At that point in my life, there was a lot of — how should I put this — fumbling around in the dark.
Walking may not be the most practical mode of transportation. But there’s something magical about strolling around a city.
My name is Speedy Greenawalt and I record music that no one hears.
“’Everything happens for a reason,’” is the wearied refrain often repeated by pious individuals. Perhaps that’s true…but based solely on the evidence at our disposal, it seems as though the exact opposite is more accurate.’
The following excerpt was taken from a notebook discovered on a park bench by the Ohio River in Pittsburgh. It contains the thoughts and feelings of a creature who claims to be a “Flussfremder.”
A critical explorations of childhood movies.
‘All Paul could think about as he tried to maneuver his way around a lethargic old lady in the cereal aisle of Food Lion was ‘Good God, you old hag, could you move any slower?”
A reflection on the incomprehensible.
‘Live your life like a clear, blue sky — easy and open.’
‘The trouble isn’t understanding, in theory, that we don’t want to become that little gray man. The hard part is taking the proper actions to stave him off.’
“That was probably the hardest thing for me: to watch him fade away right before our eyes, and knowing that no matter what we did, we couldn’t bring back our baby boy.’
‘Early morning presents an opportunity to actually enjoy drinking our coffee — that is to say, it allows us to notice things, instead of having our attention pulled in 36 different directions at once.’
‘Ugly descents such as this happen every single day in this Great Country. We regularly watch good people fall victim to their vices, so theoretically you already know how the story goes.’
A brief essay on the act of writing.
‘The writer had finally run out of things to write about and at first he felt as though this meant he was royally screwed.’
‘RIP, 20s. And goodbye unicorn. You were turbulent and frustrating and enlightening. I enjoyed you, I hated you, I’ll recall you fondly, but I won’t miss you.’