Category: Journal
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IN THIS PROFOUND TIME
“A hard task, dying, when one loves life so much.” — Simone de Beauvoir
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DUFFY ON MAPLEWOOD
in which it was April 2020, and I was losing it, just a little bit (maybe a lot)
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FIELD NOTES
“And the people seduced by your work are usually seduced for all the wrong reasons. Or are they the right reasons? Do all the nuts in the world really have your number? And not just your telephone number either.” — Erica Jong
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A Very Strange & Specific Thing
This is for Brian. It’s not enough. It’s something.
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Traveling Alone
A list of sorts.
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Every Day is a Miracle
“Here is an area of great confusion Here is a section that’s extremely precise Here is an area that needs attention Here is a connection with the opposite side” — “Here,” from American Utopia on Broadway
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New Year’s Day
“it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing” — William Shakespeare, MACBETH
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After the accident
On loving.
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Quarantine Sundays
An exceptionally strange time; everything almost collapses on me
ARH 