In 1979, after a long day of work, a man drives home at night, crossing Oregon’s hills and lanes at the height of summer. His shirt is filthy and wet from sweat. The windows are open and bugs flutter and crack on the windshield.
June 21, 2021
I wasn’t at Roswell base when it happened, but I was at Wright Field...next best thing since that’s where they brought it through directly. This was my second year of studying recovered junk. A German fighter. Some weird Jap sub-launched jobbie. A bunch of balloons. Nothing special.
May 12, 2021
People ask what it’s like to almost die, and I tell them, hey, I was seven, I don’t remember. But I do. A little bit. It was like going away. Like visiting the edge of another place I was preparing to move to.
April 12, 2021
Here's a small treat to put under your Tree (or Dark Young) this year. Thanks for all the support guys, it means a lot. Not only do I get to connect with you directly, you help make my work infinitely better with your feedback and awesome insights.
December 25, 2020
I followed her and I shouldn’t have. I know it now. Don’t you think I know? I saw it all. I saw it.
December 10, 2020
The music sits upon the page, but it is not really contained there. It already sprang to life in the mind of the musician, alive and writhing some time before. Spinning to push the hand that set it out, flat, to be released upon the world.
November 13, 2020