Archive

2025 Rotation Highly subjective and therefore entirely accurate. Sympathy Tower Tokyo Heavy Metal Instructions This is hands-down the best thing that’s come from having a website, and I can’t adequately express how much it means to me. Dream Inventory In Greek mythology, dreams were often personified as black-winged demons that enter our sleeping minds like bats to deliver messages from the gods. Reading List Books are meant to be highlighted and dog-eared, their spines cracked and lying facedown on the kitchen table. Instructions for Myself It can always use more reverb. The First Two Miles Are Always Murder Beautiful music for ugly running. An Ongoing Exercise in Accretion An ongoing exercise in accretion. Taipei/Tokyo Collages Collages of the Taipei+Tokyo ephemera in my suitcase. A Partial Inventory of a Night Market in Taiwan Fresh meat, blouses, and turnip cakes. Eighteen Levels of Hell Those who cut corners shall be eaten by predators and snakes. Naoshima Notes I believe the function of art is to create a situation where language falls apart. Tokyo Notes Landed in Tokyo. I do not know the day of the week or why it’s dark outside. Notes on God Hell can be described in a thousand ways, but heaven remains impossible to grasp. A Walk in London A delightful collage of me walking through London three years ago. Naming the Snow “God is an experience,” an old man said as he reached for another cookie. 2024 Rotation Here are the albums I played the most this year, the ones I kept revisiting because they challenged, delighted, and reassured. Grey Yesterday a man who smelled like gasoline attempted to enter the Capitol with a flare gun. A New Dark Age "The piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality." Track ID Exciting opportunity! Make money at home! I’m offering five dollars and a mountain of gratitude to anyone who can identify this song. A Tale of Judgment and Grace This man was the antichrist. Yes, he was what the end of civilization looked and sounded like. Center for Sustainable Urbanization A streamlined website that showcases the events and publications of an international non-profit network of urban planners, architects, and policymakers. A Psychedelic Throb I swear I read somewhere that your uncoiled intestines can reach the moon. They Enter Our Minds Like Bats The ancient Greeks believed dreams enter our sleeping minds like bats to deliver messages from the gods. Someday We Will Conjure New Gods to Console Us We stood by the window and watched the howling dark, even though this isn’t what you should do in a tornado. Scene from My Notebook I’ve been trying to loosen up: fast collages, illegible notes in the middle of the night, and the smudges of a left-hander. A Staggering Kind of Stillness A lone helicopter crossed the sky. The temperature dropped. Dogs barked. Birds stopped chirping. Debris There's beauty in repetition, the steady accretion that comes with committing to one thing day after day. Altar I share this because I'm fascinated by the totems and rituals of others. Mysterium As I left New York City, the driver played Bon Jovi’s “Living on a Prayer” several times and never said a word. On a Shrinking Globe in an Expanding Universe An inauspicious flight number. The sound of the door closing. The metal roar of the engines. Instead of Disappearing Completely I’m learning to find pleasure in the ultramundane and routine. Why Am I in Ohio? At first, I did not want to leave Vegas. Not so soon. A Craving for Polar Horror Polar horror is one of my favorite genres. Why Does the Brain Torture Itself? I loathe these brutal nerves of mine. Starting a New Big Thing I have a knack for taking the longest, most taxing route to common knowledge. Loss Response I loathe the moments when the suffering of others reminds me to be grateful. Hallucinations and Routines There will always be demands and obligations, but they do not need me before eleven o’clock. Michael Clayton “You want to bake bread? Go with God.” C. Wall Architecture A new visual identity and website for this architecture firm. 2023 Rotation We’re deep into the 21st century, yet I still find myself waiting for the future to begin. Prophets The Joshua tree was named by Mormons who thought they saw their prophet pointing to the promised land. Desert Nomenclature "Virga" is the name for precipitation that does not reach the ground. Vegas Dust A few minutes after midnight in the Mojave desert, a preacher appears on a dead radio channel. 100 Degrees and Snow Every year I feel a little more vertiginous. The New House by David Leo Rice I can’t remember the last time I’ve dog-eared and highlighted so many pages in a novel. The Lost Lake and Last Chance Mountain Last night I stayed up late and stitched together my favorite pieces of the Mojave. Orientation Here I am at last, living in the landscape I’ve craved since the first time I drove across the country. Seven Years Ago, I Placed a Significant Bet Seven years ago, we debated how the world would end. The Effects Are Deeper Than the Struggle to Remain Upright Why does the wind leave us feeling so exhausted and harassed? A Scribble, an Exploded Rocket, and an Oyster Omelet Woke up the other day and watched a billionaire’s rocket explode. Goddammit, I Just Graded a Fucking Robot And it was about the goddamned work of art in the goddamned age of mechanical reproduction, of all things. She Reminisced About the Cambrian Period She said we were looking at the Bonanza King Formation, which sounds like a doomed band from the 1970s. What Happens Here Happens Everywhere I had time to kill at the Las Vegas airport, where it feels like being returned to a pleasant memory of 1987. Letting Go of the Maps in My Head The desert silence baffles my Midwestern mind. Technology Might Have Peaked With Magnetic Tape A delightful sense of slippage occurs when you can’t decide if something is brilliant or awful. Suddenly We Found Ourselves Hiking If starvation was on the table, would you rather eat your own finger or a stranger's? Church Attendance Is Lowest in Nevada I had no idea there was so much weather in the desert. We Searched for 10,000 Acres of Sand Death Valley is a place where ten thousand acres of scenery can easily go missing. My Dithering has Reached Its Vanishing Point We need to make robots and zombies fun again And Entropy Makes Itself Known to Me It’s cold in Vegas, and strange material is falling from the sky. Towers of Red Rock Loomed Over Us Like a Beautiful Threat Yesterday C. and I took a break from our screens and drove into the Valley of Fire. So Much Civilization Where There Shouldn’t Be I pondered the idea of a Vegas-themed casino until I gave myself a headache. The Reassuring Cadence of Living in the Sprawl These are days of shooting down unidentifiable objects in the sky. A Landscape that Functions Like Memory We hit the brakes and followed a dusty road past a gigantic fiberglass ice cream sundae. The Games We Play in Museums After all these years, how well do I know her taste? How well does she know mine? Landscapes Like Scenes from Tomorrow Messiness will be a crucial tool in the footrace against artificial intelligence. Yet the Horizon Never Seems to Draw Closer Time and space get wobbly in the desert. I think I’m puttering along, but the speedometer says 98. Ten Years Sober Today An old man in a church basement said, "Stick around long enough, and this becomes a life spent stepping over dead bodies." And We Diligently Killed Zombies A few hours later, we wandered into the desert and touched some cacti. The Sensation of Slippage Continues The desert is littered with bizarre facts, and I often think I invented them, like a fragment from a dream or a misremembered film. Desert Run Chugging electro reverb<br> 60 minutes Fever Dreams Enhanced by the American Government Here in Las Vegas, we’re catching the faintest edge of a weather event that sounds like something from a fantasy novel. Algorithms Cannot Compete With the Spectacle of Humans Repetition amplifies humor and pleasure. The Sudden Lights of Vegas in the Valley Below We drove home on an empty parkway, feeling futuristic while fireworks burst alongside our car. 2022 Rotation This year, release dates be damned. Here’s the music that delivered an unexpected thrill while motoring through the desert. They Say It’s the Future, They Say It’s Useful for Us The unique scent of desert rain has a scientific name derived from the Greek words for stone and the blood of the gods. Even if the Rewards Have Diminished Each time I step outside, I feel like I’m on a new planet, and I wonder if I will ever tire of the desert. All the Little Red Bubbles As I begin to orient myself in Vegas, I know I’m edging too close to the Strip when the plasma donation centers appear. There’s Too Much Night Here Due to some 19th-century railroad logic, Nevada is the only non-coastal state in the Pacific Time Zone. White Line Fever and the Higher Silence Within I loaded a 15-foot U-Haul with our furniture and pointed it southwest. My Screens Reflected the Sprawl I enjoyed driving along smooth parkways to a fast food joint that served spicy Korean pork in a cup. Vegas Architecture Hides From the Sun Most Christian churches are located along an east-west axis, with the entrance to the west and the altar to the east. A Dedicated Place Where I Can Tack Index Cards to the Wall The Pacific Time Zone is turning me into a morning person, and I do not like it. Taro Puffs the Size of Your Fist We tooled around the city's perimeter, marveling at its sharp edges. Fireworks in the Parking Lot of a Gas Station We made good time and hit Vegas a night earlier than scheduled. A Fingernail Moon Rose Over the Rockies When I woke up this morning, I struggled to remember the state I was in. The First Pizza Hut is in Wichita We woke to the melancholic stillness of a holiday morning somewhere in the middle of America. Even the International House of Pancakes was closed. Movements Are a Relic of the 20th Century The billboards we passed felt like chapters from one big story: automatic weapon rentals, bulk ammo, Jesus Christ, and lawyers. Synthetic Tracks for the Motorway The road trip kicks off tomorrow, and my packing has been delayed by a much more critical matter: putting together a road trip playlist. Faded Graffiti Like a Vanished Wish It’s one of those days when it feels like the world’s got its hands in my pockets. The Spirit of the Information Superhighway It’s like some mythical creature from the past has wandered into the middle of a twelve-land expressway. People Behaving Poorly in Glossy Architecture We convinced ourselves our tweets were important, newsworthy, career-making, or, god forbid, agents for social change, and it made us crazy. Another Sleepless Night for Reasons Unknown My bedtime programming hums with the static of insomnia. Repetition Is Where Things Get Interesting A shift in the light on the running trail. An unexpected connection on page 172. A Body of Water Was Named After a Man Who Was Roasted Alive William Gibson has nothing on the Catholics. There Would Be Less Screaming I often imagine my writing sessions should be quiet and humble, like those stern Dutch paintings of solitary women making lace in solemn bands of light. A House Always Made of Freshly Chopped Wood I still have vivid dreams that my mother is still alive; I find her sitting at a kitchen table in a tiny house by the sea, living under an assumed name. Some Faceless Behemoth Purchased It Combing through eighteen years of digital cruft has led me down an unexpectedly emotional walk down memory lane. The Bare Trees Reveal New Scenery All the leaves are on the ground now, and the bare trees reveal new scenery. Sleep Has a Moral Dimension If someone behaves atrociously, we wonder how they sleep at night. Sometimes You Can’t Find the Door Perhaps it becomes self-fulfilling to imagine the future as stern and forbidding. It Feels Like a Video Game We spent a fair chunk of the ride debating whether laws were necessary. Complaining While Their Opponents Scorch the Earth It’s Election Day in America, and I showed up at my polling place to unenthusiastically vote for some Democrats. A White Honda with a Crumpled Fender Maybe they’ll wind up on the evening news someday. If We Can Rearrange Time, We Can Do Anything Changing the clocks should be the year's biggest celebration with fireworks, parades, and gift-giving. I Recited the Names of Cities Like a Mantra A summer Saturday in November, bright and breezy with highs in the upper 70s. C. and I are trying to A Bright Daytime Moon Hung in the Sky I’d like to live in a world of apologetic gods and talking satellites. My Brain Has Run Out of Sleeping Juice These summery November days echo my sense of being out of time. A Mumbled Conspiracy Feels Wholesome These Days My mind turns gullible in the small hours, ready to believe anything. There's a Thin Line Between Vigilance and Neuroticism The leaves have fallen, and we crunched over them while dressed for spring. Tighter Pores, Fewer Toxins, and a Sharper Mind C. and I celebrated her birthday at the Largest Korean Sauna in North America. A Secular Approach to Home Improvement I took an afternoon drive through Indiana the other day, and it was clear that America is not doing well. An Urge to Tear Apart the Sky I ran from my screen like someone in a zombie movie. Saturday Night Terrain She hummed with the nervy energy of a talented yet unrecognized mind. Good Fortune I keep this one in my wallet. Someday We Will Invent Kinder Gods and New Miracles Yesterday in twenty-first-century America, I idled behind a jeep with an InfoWars license plate. Night Station I stood in line at the Gas ‘n Go behind a man with a pistol tucked into the elastic waistband of his sweatpants. Hallucinator We traded memories through the night, starting with branches of personal history and working backward until we reached the primeval muck that fuels a life. Room in the Air The real heroes of this blessed land are the short-order cooks at Chinese takeout joints who manipulate fire, oil, and steel like gods. Antistatic A jumbotron flashed above an overpass, and I held my breath. Lately there’s been a shiver in my nerves The Throwback Special I have zero interest in football, which can make it challenging to move through American life. Plaza Service plazas are modern works of art where I can eat slick food next to twelve lanes of humming traffic, lording over a glittering river of steel and glass. The Haunting of Hill House Hill House, famously not sane, bothers the soul because Jackson describes the perception of horror, not the horror itself. Drone Tinnitus occurs for many reasons, most of them vague. I Need to Make Mistakes The first thing I do with a new notebook is write something stupid and messy on the first page. The Fifth Child Maybe I was primed for horror because I woke before dawn on a Sunday morning. Red Shift They say evolution occurs most rapidly in body parts that attract lovers and frighten rivals. Pictures from a Bad Dream This morning I fed a robot a few sentences from the novel I'm writing, and it generated some startlingly accurate pictures. A Fascinating Little Ailment I sneeze whenever I glance at the sun, which I’ve always taken as proof I am a night owl. Passage Maps of the Arctic give me vertigo. All that blank bright land feels like leaping off a rooftop. Radioactivity Cut to commercial, and I hum along with a jingle for a machine that controls your brainwaves while you sleep. Fires The Rockies appeared through the gloom, slow beasts moving across the continent at the speed of time. Summer of Muslimgauze The artist’s obsession becomes the listener’s obsession. The Comfort Lounge It was a run-down joint where time stood still and probably slid backward. A Matter of Degrees Most people walk away from their dreams sooner or later, usually in tiny steps that are hardly noticeable, the course Dangling Shoes Some Americans like to tie a pair of shoes together and toss them at a power line. The Corners of the Ceiling “Science shouldn’t explain everything,” she told me. Folk Religion Maybe you’ve heard the soliloquies of sunburnt men who mutter at the traffic. And Thank God, Soon We’ll Be Making More Night A heat dome has settled over the Middle West, the moon was extra bright last night, and I saw a rainbow in the parking lot yesterday. The Weather Lady Looked a Little Freaked Out Mostly sunny, the heat is building, and there’s a strawberry supermoon. Wall Street fell into a bear market today, Clichés Are Learned the Hard Way Tornado sirens rang the other day while I played mahjong with the in-laws. The sun went down at 9: Acid Camp Memorial Day in Ohio. Clear skies, highs near 90, and the sun went down at 8:54pm. The moon is "Only in a rerun." The Running Man (1987) is weird comfort food. I find myself craving every now and then, like a favorite meal. More Americans are Unraveling Behind the Wheel The sun went down at 8:49pm, the moon is in its last quarter, and tonight I'm wondering if the health of a society can be pegged to the nerves of its motorists. Like trying to retrofit an 8-track player. I’ve stopped doing business with streaming music services. The algorithm has transformed music into an endless churn without sense- Tiny Figures Among the Stones A floppy-eared dog gnawed a bone while a clown smiled above the bed. I Put a Lot of Faith in Office Products to Solve My Existential Problems My map is upside down, inscrutable, and probably for a different planet. Before I Die A soundtrack to accompany the exhibition of Candy Chang’s Before I Die project. Can't Kill the World The Night of the Hunter opens with the disembodied heads of five children floating in the cosmos and gets weirder from there. A Fleeting Shape Glimpsed From the Corner of the Eye My first memory of God: I was five or six years old and feverishly rubbing a white crayon into a dark blue piece of construction paper. I Need to Rethink How I Spend My Dwindling Time on This Planet They look less and less like recognizable humans, these billionaires buying everything we care about: books and newspapers, transportation and Greenland I’m always in a heavy state whenever I see Greenland, usually red-eyed and emotionally shredded. Last Day in London Mostly cloudy skies with a high near seventy degrees while C. and I sat in the National Gallery, awaiting the April 14, 2022 York to Brighton. Sunny skies, highs in the low sixties, and the sun went down around eight o’clock. I York Bath to York. Drizzle and highs near sixty. The sun goes down at eight o’clock, and there’s a Bath London to Bath. Mostly sunny skies and highs in the upper fifties. The sun goes down at 7:57pm.  As Somnambulist One of those fine afternoons when you wander into a dusty bookstore in an unfamiliar city and come across a A Fair Chunk of Our Time Was Spent Pacing and Sighing These have been long days of hanging vinyl and caressing air bubbles with a squeegee as C. and I finished Stone London. A chilly Saturday with fast-moving clouds and confusing bursts of snow while the sun shines. The sun goes They’re Making Video Poems About the 1990s Clear skies and a high near sixty degrees. The sun goes down at 6:11pm, the moon is full, and Evensong London. A damp weekend of clouds and mist. The sun goes down at 5:51pm and the moon is waxing. Feedback Loops The photograph of my mom refuses to leave the auditorium. We jiggle the cords, but she’s still there, twenty feet tall and gazing at the water. Gaps and Threads London. Another day of clouds and drizzle punctuated by a few moments of sunshine—an event so rare that it Midnight in London Damp streets, a stiff breeze, and Bertrand Russell comes to mind: “Eternal objects can be conceived as God’s thoughts. We Tuned In to Watch Airplanes Record-breaking wind swept across England yesterday, closing bridges, train lines, and attractions. The nation tuned in to watch a Dark Trees I never know how seriously to take anything anymore. The Ides of February I keep colliding with people in the streets and shops. I just can't pick up the rhythm here. Night Flight to London God, the indignity of getting yelled at while standing in your socks. Getting dressed down because you put your bag Slush and Stone Cloudy skies with a high near fifty degrees. The snow is melting quickly, leaving behind grey-black slush and patches Morning Man Snow-blasted skies and temperatures around zero. The sun goes down at 5:49pm. I thought about Haruki Murakami while Nine Years Sober Today I find so much peace in the electrified grids of cities. January 27, 2022 Grey skies and light flurries with dangerously cold temperatures on the way. The sun sets at 5:45pm, and there’ “They make advertisements for soap. Why not for peace?” Last night I watched Hiroshima, Mon Amour, a film I hadn’t seen since my days in college. I remember Middle Path Ohio. A snowy Sunday afternoon with temperatures dropping into the teens and an inch or two of accumulation. The sun Midwinter Inventory While explaining myself to the grumpy clerk behind the glass, I realized I had no idea where I legally lived. Winter Robots Ohio. Clear skies with highs in the mid-thirties, sunset at 5:34pm, and it finally snowed last night. Not Cusp of Things A grey Sunday with the possibility of snow. They’re calling it a Saskatchewan Screamer, this weather system moving northeast We Need New Gods Last night I dusted off and tuned up an old track that I made from a pair of half-speed Tomorrow's Gods Cloudy skies, still no snow, and a high of 43 degrees.  There’s an old Roman maxim that fear gave A Low Rumble Clear skies without any snow, temps in the low forties, and the sun went down at 5:28pm. There’s The Hum of Machinery You Can See Another frigid and atmospherically pointless day without any snow. The sun goes down at 5:27pm. My brand new cassette Word Count Wind chills in the single digits and still no snow. The sun sets at 5:27pm tonight. It took some 17 Minutes Remaining I borrowed the internet of a fast-fashion shop that closed at noon because too many of its workers had the plague. Dream Language I woke up wondering if I would live my life any differently if I measured my age in days or hours instead of years. January 7, 2022 Sunset at 5:23pm with temperatures deep below freezing. At a meeting in a church basement, I admired a large January 6 My father died six years ago today. It still feels like it’s only been a year or two, maybe An Elderly Man Sighs Over a Dusty Book About Trees Forty degrees with gusty winds. The sun goes down at 5:21pm tonight. I’ve been spending my mornings at Goodness Ohio. Tonight the sun sets at 5:20pm, and I’m thinking about my soul. Goodness. What does it mean The Memory Police In Yōko Ogawa’s The Memory Police, the residents of an unnamed island suffer the ritual disappearance of objects big January 3, 2022 How do you reckon with the internet when writing a story that takes place in the present day or near Broken Scales Sunset: 5:19pm. A cloudy day with highs in the low 40s and a few beautiful minutes of blustery snow. January 1, 2022 The first day of the year, and there’s a new supermoon tonight. Maybe this is auspicious. I’d like 2021 Rotation The end of another year, and exhaustion hangs heavy like a fog. Parameters Are Critical Sunset: 5:14pm. The blurry days between Christmas and New Year’s Eve stand outside of time. These long nights It Dramatizes Grief and Bends Towards Science Fiction A warm and rainy Christmas in Ohio. Highs in the mid-60s and the sun will set at 5:11pm. The Right Notebook Will Solve All My Problems Sunrise at 7:51am with lows in the teens and highs in the forties. Omicron is now the dominant variant Goodbye, New York After a week of schlepping and haggling, C. and I emptied our flat, loaded our belongings, and pointed a rental Endless Two days left in New York City. Highs in the fifties and the sun went down at 4:29pm—one Crossroads Four days left in New York City. Sunset: 4:28pm with highs around 50, and the weather has been distressingly She Swirled Her Ink Across a Massive Canvas Sunset: 4:27pm. Last night I watched C. paint, and she moved so quick and loose, belonging entirely to the Crosstown New York City. Sunset: 4:27pm. Cloudy skies and drizzle with temperatures in the thirties. Russia might invade Ukraine. The End After three months in Green-Wood Cemetery’s historic chapel, After the End closed last night. Along the way, visitors Winter Noises Sunset at 4:28pm with clear skies and lows in the thirties. Last night I was sitting in a church This Is the Third Time I Will Leave New York Sunset at 4:28pm, and a new supermoon is on its way. In two weeks, C. and I will load There’s Nothing Sane to Do Sunset: 4:29pm. Cloudy skies and temperatures holding steady in the forties. The United States detected its first case of Burn yourself completely. Sunset: 4:35pm. A bright springlike day with a high of 70 degrees and lows in the fifties. Tonight the I Went for a Run Because I Didn’t Want to Start Smoking Again I was running the other night, heaving and hauling myself across 85th Street, when something clicked. I’d been ruminating Frictional There was a flurry of thunderstorm warnings and a tornado watch on this November afternoon. Then the sky turned black Crowd New York City. Sunset 4:43pm. Another bright spring day in November with a high near 70 degrees. Last night, My Favorite Moment of the Year Sunset: 4:44pm. A high in the 50s and a low of 39 degrees. Last night the clocks fell back I Seem to Remember Less and Less Sunset: 5:47pm. Sunny with a high of 53 and lows in the upper thirties. There’s a new supermoon Writing for Whoever Might Find It Sunset: 5:51pm. Partly cloudy in New York with a high of 60 degrees and lows dipping into the 40s Brain in the Desert Sunset: 5:52pm. A waning crescent moon on Halloween with a high of 64 degrees. I’m back in New Desert Cadence The desert is a land of religious vision, the home of desperate saints and ascetics dragging themselves across the sand in search of revelation. Silence and News Sunny with a high of 80 degrees and a low of 48. A slow day in the desert was spent Hunter's Moon Mojave desert. Sunset: 6:03pm. There’s a full moon tonight, a hunter’s moon. Like a scene from a Phoenix Is Impossible, but Its Cacti Are Platonic The sun went down at 5:48pm, the high was 83 degrees, and the moon is nearly full. This morning An Abandoned Baby Stroller and a Bottle of Champagne Moon: waxing gibbous, almost full. A high of 68 degrees and clouds, dust, and a spatter of rain. Scrolled past Orbiting the Margins of Vegas Sunset: 6:01pm. Shocking skies with a high of 83 and a low of 50 degrees. C. and I headed Suspended in a Timeless Non-Space Night flight to Vegas. First proper trip in twenty-two months and my fear of flying has not improved. We Rituals Sunset: 6:16pm. Moon: Waxing gibbous. A high of 77 degrees because there’s no such thing as seasons anymore. Extension There are over a thousand responses from visitors now, far more than we anticipated at this point. Future Church New York City. Sunset: 6:20pm. A late spring day in October with a high of 72 degrees. Spent the A Perfect Crescent Dangled Over the Street Sunset: 6:20pm. A first-quarter moon. A high of 72 and another humid night that feels like the wrong Elderly Couples Held Each Other Steady A drizzly Sunday with a high of 66 and thousand-percent humidity. The clean winds of autumn have yet to Everything Feels Like a Metaphor These Days Sunset: 6:24pm. Moon: Waxing crescent. Cloudy with a high of 66 degrees and a low of 57. Finally, a A Mystic Allure New York City. Sunset: 6:26pm. A waxing crescent moon. Sunny skies and a high of 75 degrees. The weather Falling in Love With a Moment Sunset: 6:27pm. Partly sunny and high of 75 degrees. It’s much too warm for October. Today I was Local Artists on the Local News New York City. Sunset: 6:29pm. Cloudy with 76% humidity and a high of 70, a seasonless day that felt Respiration New York City. Sunset: 6:30pm. A new moon. Heavy clouds and damp air, a high of 66 and a Hardcode New York City. Sunset: 6:32pm. A damp Monday with dull grey air, and a waning crescent moon. High of Talking Over a Car Alarm New York City. Sunset: 6:34pm. Moon: Waning crescent. Weather: Mostly cloudy and 77 degrees with steadily increasing humidity and Shamble and Stride Sunset: 6:35pm. Moon: Waning crescent. Weather: Mostly sunny with a high of 75, partly cloudy tonight with a low A Sinful Sun Sunset: 6:37pm. Moon: Waning crescent. Sunny and clear with a high of 66 and a low of 48. A Scenes From the Chapel A pair of snapshots from installing a new project in the chapel at Green-Wood Cemetery: last month we started New Project My next project with Candy Chang is happening in this magnificent chapel. After the End A ritual about loss September Finding My Thoughts Has Felt Difficult Lately The only way I can understand these uneasy days is to write about them. But finding my own thoughts has Monster Six years later, I have 88,000 words about an elderly truck driver, a frightened voice on the radio, and Fireworks Fireworks showered the nation last night, in part to commemorate the end of masking and distancing. This is cause for Eastbound One of my favorite American moments: the gleaming pumps of the Vince Lombardi Service Area in New Jersey, the last Oryx and Crake Last week I reread Margaret Atwood’s Oryx and Crake, and it harmonized with our latest heatwave to an unsettling Reboot A refreshed visual identity and bold new website for Reboot, an international consultancy that develops programs for systemic change. We Were Distracted On June 2, Candy Chang and I will be at the Mint Museum in Charlotte, North Carolina, to discuss our The debris of a falling Chinese rocket America felt busy and extra-bright as we drove across Florida, wondering if we might be hit by the debris Mahjong Mahjong is my favorite game. Everything is aestheticized: the clack of the tiles, the building of walls, and the language May 7, 2021 First proper road trip in nearly two years. One thousand miles from Ohio to Florida for a three-day game "We’re smothered by words, images, and sounds that have no right to exist." Federico Fellini’s 8½ is a head-scraping, memory-swirled portrait of the judgment and shame that comes with creative Shadowbahn In Steve Erickson’s Shadowbahn, the Twin Towers reappear in South Dakota, wholly intact and without explanation. Nightcrawler / Bringing Out the Dead "If you’re seeing me, you’re having the worst day of your life." Shock G Shock G died yesterday. As the years pile up, maybe you become accustomed to your influences passing away. But this April 22, 2021 A late April snowstorm blew through Ohio last night, quick and heavy, and the sudden shock of snow was a 3+1 I answered a few questions about writing and the allure of lonely gas stations as part of Michael Donaldson’s "No landscape is as lovely as a woman." In Michelangelo Antonioni’s L’Avventura, a woman disappears on a rocky island. Her wealthy friends search for her until Some Terrible Paintings One thing I hate about my writing is that it often feels bunchy and tight. I want to recover a Temptation I’m attempting to read Gustav Flaubert’s The Temptation of Saint Anthony, his 1874 depiction of the saint’s Between The ancient Greeks believed God was a geometer, but I think Agnes Martin was closer to the mark. Clearing the Decks Before Trying Something New On the first day of this year, I sat in the pews of a medieval cathedral in Turku, Finland, and Clearing the Decks Before Trying Something New On the first day of this year, I sat in the pews of a medieval cathedral in Turku, Finland, and Clocks Only Measure Other Clocks It’s like a new form of weather, this atmosphere of everyone waiting for this wretched year to end. Although Unthinkable I remember the hope I felt this time last year, my naive faith that a foolish and frightening decade was Version Without new faces or scenes to cement memories, a rubbery sense of time has defined most of 2020. These final December 27, 2020 Two years ago tonight in New York City, a strange blue light filled the sky. We stood at our windows, 2020 Rotation But Christ, who wants to remember this year, let alone provide the soundtrack? Shambles C. and I spent the evening assembling a jigsaw puzzle of Hieronymus Bosch’s The Garden of Earthly Delights, one Moment I woke before dawn on Christmas like a little kid, pop-eyed with excitement because C. and I were exchanging Eve My first concept of god came from It’s a Wonderful Life. I was four or maybe five years old, Banquet My memories tend to pile up around the holidays, fogging my thoughts with the textures of Christmas seasons from the Stimulus A billionaire was on television this morning, and he’s concerned about our social fabric. He told us not to Hibernal Heavy rain beats against the windows. It’s the longest night of the year, one of my favorite moments. I Postmortem I often think about an article I read late one night, a study that suggested we might be aware of Programming Lately I’ve been wondering what my brains would be like if I grew up without a television. Would my Fracture We’ve entered a season of revised death projections and hospital bed trackers. Meanwhile, our elected officials debate whether to Death So much thinking about death these days, yet I rarely think about my own. Maybe it’s the silence in The Greatest Show on Earth One of my short stories has been published in Vol. 1 Brooklyn. It’s about an elderly couple in a Flurries Light snow today in Ohio, and a nor’easter is moving up the Eastern Seaboard, promising as much as two Reflection Nowadays we hide our dead in antiseptic rooms but not too long ago, we displayed their bodies in our homes. Mundane A dull grey Monday here in Ohio, thirty-eight degrees with a sky like a stone. The first vaccinations were Vaccine The vaccine is coming. This weekend was filled with images of pharmaceutical workers in lab coats and helmets packing vials Narrows I look forward to midnight when the day’s insults and stresses recede into their proper places. I feel more Numbers Three thousand Americans are dying each day from the coronavirus, and two hundred thousand more are infected. The numbers numb. Worship Three years ago on a Saturday night in rural Pennsylvania, I saw a vision of the future that I cannot December 9, 2020 Each time I visit the museum, I seek out this thousand-year-old ceramic statue. Known as an arhat, or Alright Electric signs on the highway flashed messages telling us to stay home and stop the spread. Small cars zipped past Absence Even when I put my telephone in a drawer, I am acutely and sometimes painfully aware of its absence. I My Father Nodded His Head to Funkadelic on Highway 61 Five years ago this week, my father was released from the hospital with a new lung, and we drove home Metal Monoliths have been appearing and disappearing in Utah, Romania, California, and the United Kingdom. But there is no mystery or Eat Nearly three thousand deaths from the virus yesterday while we wait for a vaccine and a new president to appear. Language Shortly before he died, I took my father to the museum. I watched him drag his oxygen tank through curtains Writing Through a Uniquely Terrible Year The first day of the last month of this nightly journal, and I’m thinking about the value of this When a Pounding Headache Fades Light snowfall here in Ohio, and the weather report was mixed with grim coronavirus forecasts. I want to believe things Leave Your Children in the Woods The first days of the holiday season often remind me that I don’t have the type of family that Fully Loaded with Faux Pinecones C. and I bought an artificial Christmas tree today, another unexpected development in 2020. We haven’t celebrated the holiday Access Tonight an old friend in New Orleans reminded me that even if I’m wrestling with the idea of faith, Gratitude Thanksgiving. Tonight I am grateful because I have a safe place to sleep, food to eat, and the freedom to November 25, 2020 Hunkered down somewhere in Ohio, and there’s not much to do except finish my book. I’ve made a We Scrolled Down the Aisles in Hunter-Gatherer Mode This morning my meditation tape asked me if there’s an observer or just the act of observing. I have Patterns It’s been a long year of predictions: infection rates, election outcomes, the future of cities, and the nature of Stretch Today we packed up a rental car and drove to Ohio to hide from the world this winter. We’re Image Last night I dreamt about a world where we were required to wear plastic bags over our heads. A dead Walk These have been days of long walks through the city with friends before the weather forces us indoors. Our conversations Post My mom would have turned 68 today. I never know how to mark this day. Growing older means that more Forward Cold today, wind chill in the twenties. I’m getting crotchety. I increasingly find myself squinting at the world and Hijack The president still refuses to concede the election; he’s firing his critics as well as the few remaining officials A New Medieval Age of Faith and Feeling The Pope is praying for our relationship with technology. “Let us pray that the progress of robotics and artificial intelligence Lament We knew it was coming. They’ve been telling us for months, and now it’s here: a dark winter Profane I sympathize with the sleeping figure in Valentin de Boulogne’s Dream of Saint Joseph, a portrait of a weary Suffuse A peculiar stretch of November summer has faded into grey skies and rain. My mind is fragmented tonight, flicking around Spirit The philosopher Herbert Spencer believed the first gods appeared in our dreams. These visions gradually became ghosts that haunted our Test Got my first coronavirus test today. Figured it would be a good idea after spending seventeen hours in a middle Shift After the election results were announced yesterday, a burst of spontaneous cheers gathered steam until people were dancing in the Catharsis The networks called the race for president at 11:26 this morning, and the city erupted in cheers. Horns honked, Endless An unusually warm and sunny day in November, seventy degrees with a light wind. And we will have a new Goo Patchy sleep and fever dreams about narrow margins and outstanding ballots. But the line between sleep and waking life feels Razor Last night a friend gave us a package of red-white-and-blue Oreos that were produced for the Olympic Election After so many months of isolation, working the polls for seventeen hours reminded me of something important: New Yorkers are November 2, 2020 One more day until the election. My head is garbled with stories about yard signs booby-trapped with razor blades Hour We stopped the clocks for an hour last night, and even though we do this every autumn without much fanfare, October 31, 2020 I’ve never enjoyed Halloween because it reminds me that I’m not very fun. Maybe it’s my childhood Devil It sneaks up softly, then twists sharply: the realization that it’s going to be another sleepless night. There’s Wind A friend in New Orleans said the power might be out for several days after last night’s hurricane, the Light the Barricades Light the Barricades: Reflections from an Exhausted Age by Candy Chang and James A. Reeves is the culmination of Light Mirror Today the White House declared victory over the coronavirus while infection rates continue to soar and people suffer. But this History While puttering in the kitchen, I heard the television say that voters in Wisconsin and Pennsylvania hold an unprecedented amount Court A medieval judge was confirmed to the Supreme Court tonight, sealing this country’s fate for years unless the Democrats "We're safe and all is well in our world." A friend sent me an article about a helmet you can buy that creates its own microclimate of filtered, customized Up Eighty-five thousand new cases reported in America yesterday, another record smashed in a year with too many records broken. Lights Returning to the city, I felt a familiar drain on my attention as I drove down the FDR to ditch Ocean I surprised C. with a trip to the sea for her birthday. This morning I woke before dawn to watch We took a night drive through the fog. We took a night drive through heavy fog, aiming toward the ocean. Reverberated guitars washed across the dashboard while we Landscape I’ve been thinking about the connective tissue between the fragments of writing I’ve generated over the years. How Monsters I had a dream about frightening beasts called Fahrenhogs. They were spiky piggish creatures that loped across the edges of Fatigue Infections are increasing across America and Europe. They’re talking about “pandemic fatigue.” The signs at the park that instruct October 16, 2020 As I walked past a shuttered café this afternoon, I realized how much I miss writing in public. There’s Watching Last night I had a dream that I found my father in a parking garage. I hid behind a car Simulation Day three of the confirmation hearings of another retrograde Supreme Court justice, and it’s a simulation of government. Nobody Tabula Rasa I’m fantasizing about the desert again. Pictures October weather at last. A blustery evening, damp and grey. Maybe it’s the remnants of a tropical storm. While Drome “The television screen has become the retina of the mind’s eye,” says Professor O’Blivion in Videodrome. “Therefore, the Spare Sometimes designing a website can veer into unexpectedly existential terrain. Who am I? And what do I believe? That’s Silentium There were no foiled plots today, no shocking revelations or newly infected politicians or footage of horrifying violence. Just another Landfall Authorities charged thirteen men with plotting to kidnap the governor of Michigan. Another hurricane is bearing down on the Louisiana Creature A fly sat atop Mike Pence’s head for two minutes and three seconds during the vice presidential debate. This Kite I woke from a dream where I was frantically searching for the unsubscribe and unfollow buttons while a giant mouth Dust My father would have turned 72 today. He taught me about grace during the year we spent together, waiting for Extreme The president’s condition remains a mystery. There he is, waving at his fans from the backseat of a bulletproof Oldies Some enchanted evening. Room full of roses. How high the moon. For some reason it broke my heart, watching an Positive Today the president went to the hospital after testing positive for the coronavirus. Three days ago, he stood on a Ritual C. and I returned to the Met this afternoon. It’s my favorite activity in the world: wandering the halls Training Heavy rain fell last night, and it felt like a much-needed shower after the degradation of the first presidential Shame Tonight’s presidential debate was a fitting spectacle for a degraded nation. After ten minutes, C. left the room and Dots They’re talking about new spikes in Brooklyn and Queens. They’re talking about the president’s taxes, how he Converge Ran five miles for the first time in weeks and it was ugly. I can deal with the new creaks Lull Back in New York. After six weeks away, I thought the city would feel different when I returned, that I’ Homeward We’re leaving the Ohioan wilderness behind, night-driving back to New York. It’s been a fruitful time. Found Birds As I stood in a superstore parking lot before leaving Ohio, I watched some geese fly south and remembered my Shatter Three moments in America today that reach beyond my ability with words, striking only the rudimentary language of grief: Six September 22, 2020 Autumn equinox and the light matches the dark. We’re standing on the verge of an uneasy fall, unsure just Plaza The Lake Forest Oasis Service Plaza on Interstate 94 is one of my favorite moments in America. It’s a Closer Last bonfire before we return to the city. I’m going to miss how the darkness presses closer out here, Spectrum Insects buzz in the trees like bad reception, but the nights are finally cooler and crisping up. Process Looking at the state of the world today, perhaps we need more architectural details designed to scare away demons. They’ Behalf Five thousand years ago we began outsourcing prayer and devotion to statues that would worship on our behalf. Human nature Encounter Today the president shared a fake video of his opponent playing “Fuck the Police” from his telephone. This seems like Legs on a Snake Tried to write a better blurb about myself that explains who I am and what I do. Thought I’d September 14, 2020 Sometimes I fall asleep thinking about the ancient atomists, lulled by the image of a world composed of particles endlessly September 13, 2020 Heavy rain last night, and it seeped into my dreams. I had another dream about running through a flooded parking Superstore After five weeks in Ohio, the bright lights and sheer acreage of its suburban supermarkets still enthrall me. The aisles Nineteen September 11. Nineteen years ago but it still feels like it was just the other day. Its cascades have reshaped Deer The first leaves are falling, and I’m eager for early dusk and deeper nights. Last night I dreamt of Smoke California’s wildfires have dimmed the sun, transforming San Francisco’s skies into a Blade Runner scene, a never-ending September 8, 2020 The first Christian monks believed dirt was proof of faith. They walked around caked in mud with lice in their September 7, 2020 Labor Day. Tornado sirens rang for an hour here in southeastern Ohio. The sky dimmed, the temperature crashed, and leaves Kindling The first chilly night. I stayed in the woods, switched off my devices, and reckoned with the fat neverending stack Beauty I spent the morning watching the light flicker in the trees. The buzz and whirr of insects sounded electrical, like Howl “His soul is that of a coward,” said Biden after reports that our president described dead soldiers as “suckers” and Radioactive I enjoy skipping through frazzled sermons, nutritional advice, alien abductions, financial planning, and light drizzle at the airport. Swerve Just after midnight, a metallic voice began to flicker through the radio static. Hex Speeding through dark prairie with only the pale green glow of the dashboard, I listened to a midnight preacher rattle Writing Is a Physical Act Struck by this interview with the novelist Amitav Ghosh about the value of working with paper and pencil, and it’ August 30, 2020 Tonight I contemplated the animal quality of fire, the way it hunts for fuel and moves like it wants to I miss the golden days of scrolling through lyrical babble. I miss the golden days of Twitter when I discovered new music, scrolled through lyrical babble, and made genuine friends. Monochrome “He understood for the first time that black-and-white was the only true medium for film as an idea, Stimuli The other day I drove past a church sign that said: What’s missing from CH__CH? UR. I keep Weather In Wisconsin, the police shot a Black man in the back. Seven times. In front of his children. Protests collided Untethered Each day the American brain becomes more scrambled. People who believe the world is governed by a secret cabal of Observance If I hadn’t been absently flipping through an old journal tonight, I might not have remembered that my mom Pegasus What is the power of a first memory? They are such peculiar creatures, these fuzzy impressions and garbled snapshots that Scan For a glimpse into the brainpan of America, you can’t beat late-night AM radio with its paranoid callers, Sunset The great American eclipse was three years ago today, a cosmic event that covered the nation coast to coast. I Machine Yes, I wept during Biden’s convention speech. And I was annoyed by my tears, even a little ashamed. But Signs Somewhere in southeastern Ohio, I drove past two ranch houses sitting side by side with tidy sidewalks and neatly mowed Jeremiad A woman at the supermarket kept making a noise I could not decipher. It was a sound that reminded me People looking in the wrong direction. Somewhere north of Columbus, we tuned in to the first night of the Democratic National Convention. News anchors repeated the Grind The body remembers slowly and forgets very quickly. Tornado Ohio. Storms today. Maybe it’s because I’m back in the Midwest, but a memory flashed to mind that Buzz We’ve entered the last stretch of summer when everything is overripe and so green it feels obscene. Lot Each night I drive twelve miles from the cabin to a nearby town where I can pick up a signal Desk I’m writing properly again now that I’ve retreated into the woods and yanked myself from my internet-induced Puzzle Last night C. and I sat at the kitchen table and did a jigsaw puzzle that depicted a hallucinatory American August 10, 2020 The neighbors have been firing guns all day long. Crack crack crack from noon until six o’clock. Occasionally there’ Logs Arrived at the cabin yesterday. It sits on eight acres of hemlock, birch, beech, and tangled vine and fern. C’ Cave C. and I drove along backroads dotted with the occasional farm or cabin, many of them flying Trump 2020 flags Road A ten-hour drive out of New York into the woods of the Midwest. I’ve missed the heat and Pack New York City. We’re packing for a trip of indeterminate length. Our plans to log some time in the Decay This journal will probably begin to decay through August. I’ve lost the thread of this nightly exercise. Maybe it Debris A tropical storm blew across the city today. Moon There’s a full moon tonight. The Farmer’s Almanac calls it a Sturgeon Moon in August. I should understand Normal Tonight I jogged past the Metropolitan Museum of Art and stopped hard in front of its grand steps. Sometimes it "You're looking at the future: people translated as data." Max Headroom holds up far too well thirty-five years later. Every few years, I think about the 1987 signal July 31, 2020 I smoked my last cigarette three years ago on July 31 in a motel parking lot somewhere in South Carolina. Ready The heat is finally ending tonight. The rain came an hour ago, and C. says it feels like a fever’ Pray When I consider the man I want to become someday, I often picture myself as someone who prays. I have Demon Today’s headlines featured terms like “demon sperm” and “the umbrella man” because we’ve slipped into a psychedelic hell A list of things that inspired the book I’m writing. North Dakota snow. Aural destabilization. Kōbō Abe’s The Woman in the Dunes. William James and “the educational variety of Wave The heatwave continues. Going outside is like walking into a hairdryer. People teeter in the street, sweat staining their masks. Feedback Every day feels like the same day, an endless smear of Sunday and Wednesday. It’s two-thirty in the The Potter's Clay Finished Stephen King’s The Stand today and, even at 1152 pages, I was sad when I read the last sentence, as if a friend had left town for good. Give Up on Inspiration Last night I flipped through the first few pages of Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way. People have been Downpour And for a moment I wonder if it will keep raining until everything is washed clean. Detach While researching a few details for my novel this afternoon, I came across a declassified CIA document about detaching from Cover A pair of heat domes have straddled the nation, and I imagine them as two great translucent, shimmering beasts. One Echo This is a requiem for the late nights we spent rewinding, replaying, and studying a VHS copy of The City Run A heatwave is settling over New York City, and the streets are filled with the silence that heavy heat brings. Anchors Spent the afternoon in Chinatown, and it was so reassuring to see the woman on Mosco still serving cheap pork Soul Of all the philosophers, the Scholastics speak to me the clearest. Anselm, Abelard, and Aquinas. These medieval Catholics were haunted The Diver My mother believed life should be graceful and clean, much like the way she entered the water when she was Spear Lately there’s been a great deal of handwringing about “cancel culture” as evidence of increasing intolerance, even a rejection July 14, 2020 There’s a strange dynamic to this nightly journal, this sensation of writing against time. Or more precisely: writing for Breakup Nobody died from the pandemic in New York City the other day. The Northeast has returned to the infection levels Each Finger Has Its Own Consciousness Last night I dreamt that I discovered a substance called ‘onesium’, which is the substance used to clean the soul Synthesis Lately I’ve been torn between the possibilities of fiction—and the mental reprieve it affords—versus my compulsion to Rain Returned from New Hampshire’s mountains to the city heat, and it took a moment to readjust to the sight Embers Why is fire so hypnotic? Hours evaporate whenever I sit before a burning log. I stare and stare like it’ Sleepless You can almost taste it, that bright metallic sensation that floods the brain when it decides there will be no Nature In 1901, John Muir said we are “a tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people” who need to reconnect with nature. Vivid New Hampshire. I dreamed such vivid dreams last night in the White Mountains, a series of bizarre scenes that arrived Forgetting C. and I escaped the city for a few days to see some space and light. We joined a few Independence A degraded and muffled Fourth of July. The prospect of celebrating America these days feels like a dark joke. Last Toll Sometimes I dream about tollbooth operators, the half-glimpsed faces with cigarettes nodding on their lips, their left hands forever The Peaceful Rocks Will Revolve Unchanged Until the Sun Explodes A ninety-degree day in New York, bright and trashy. Is there a word for the tendency (or desire) to Abandon Scrolled through the day’s lunatic headlines and screamed into my hands. It wasn’t a single piece of news To Believe in Something Otherworldly in 2020 Last night I woke in the middle of the night and wondered if it’s possible to believe in something Humid A hot and muggy Sunday, the kind of day that’s begging for a thunderstorm. At dusk, it finally came, Rhythm Sometimes I’m hit by a mad urge to capture everything at once. The traffic lights and dramas playing across Invasion Seems like aliens could land in America and, after a day or two of awe and panic, we would politicize Grace This morning in the park, I sat across from a woman who was talking to the pigeons gathered around her feet. You Can See the Gorilla Dust Cloud From Outer Space A massive plume of desert dust has crossed the Atlantic. It began in the Sahara after a heavy rain. Now June 23, 2020 I’m working on stealing my brains back from the claws of algorithms, clickbait, and social media’s two-minute Phase The second phase of reopening began today in New York City. Outdoor dining, barbershops, and real estate. Churches and a Radioland At the California Institute of Psychics, only two of every one hundred applicants are selected, so you’re guaranteed a Solstice The longest day of the longest year. A day when I feel like I should be deep in a forest, Midnight Midnight in Montgomery, Alabama. Six years ago, I parked in front of the First White House of the Confederacy and Convulsion We’ve built such a humiliating world. Facebook banned our president from sharing Nazi imagery after his campaign posted a Tactile I admire C’s life choices lately, her decision to focus on the tactile and textured rather than pushing a Reconciliation Last week, footage circulated of a 75-year-old man knocked to the ground by the police in Buffalo, New Wolf Lately my nights have been filled with patchy dreams and idiot head chatter. Garbled headlines and pandemic waves. American hallucinations June 14, 2020 In 1928, the poet Paul Valéry had a vision of the future: “Just as water, gas, and electricity are brought Texture I came across a stray photograph from my mother’s things, and it looks like a scene from a dream Liability It’s a strange kind of whiplash, living in a society that’s somehow becoming more sensitive and cruel at Unless people are exploding in the streets. There are so many things I wish I’d asked my mother. Tonight I’d like to know about her A Gigantic Trampoline My feeds are broken and everything’s glitching. Each time I look at the internet, it reads like one long Otherwhere This morning I was pacing our flat, searching for something I could not find. She told me it was probably The Footprints of a Dying Creature Sometimes you come across a phrase that haunts you all day. Hope Still so many helicopters over the city. Some orbit around Midtown, others hover above a single point in an eerie Paranoia A note from the margins of today’s rally in Washington Square. As thousands gathered to reckon with racism and Presence Tonight I came across Tolstoy’s three questions, and they feel especially pressing in these overloaded and disorienting days: 1. Oblivious This morning I thumbed through a six-year-old notebook and came across a bit of nostalgia for the golden Alert We gathered around the mayor’s mansion and sat in the street for thirty minutes of quiet. The silence was Curfew The curfew has been moved to eight o’clock because some people looted Macy’s last night. Today I learned Desecration There’s an eleven o’clock curfew in New York City after last night’s violence by the police and Vacant The White House went dark tonight in response to the protests across the street and spreading throughout the nation. The Dissonance Last night someone vandalized the enormous CNN logo that stands in front of their Atlanta headquarters. It was a strangely Pain More uprisings across the nation. More clashes with the police whose very presence introduces the prospect of mad violence. Flipping Haze An uneasy grey day like a hangover from yesterday’s sunshine. I went for an ugly run, stopping every few Accretion The amount of incense smoke that darkens a temple’s ceiling indicates the popularity of that particular god. I learned May 26, 2020 Haze across the city this morning, giving the skyline the effect of a painted backdrop. Warm weather is coming at Memorial Today is Memorial Day, and my screen is more schizophrenic than usual. Remembrances of lost soldiers and advertisements for summer Bell Riffling through my small box of family memories, I came across a folded clipping that said my grandfather’s grandfather The Fuzzy Line Between Media Consumption and My Soul I’m slowly forging through High Weirdness, Erik Davis’s inventory of 1970s mysticism. He writes wonderfully about the feedback Time Time is a concept. Time is a flat circle. Clocks only measure other clocks. These ideas feel more valid than Babble Last night I dreamt that I was on a massive ship with skyscrapers. We could not leave and we would Cracks Life has locked into a tight loop. I wake up and perform my morning ablutions. I tune into the governor’ Sacrilege Pitched-down techno classics<br> 80 minutes Dark I remember watching the darkness in my bedroom when I was small, hypnotized by the grey-pink flecks that seemed Weird The stock market spiked in response to encouraging test trials for a vaccine. Some say it might be ready for Genre They’re taking down the makeshift hospital in Central Park. Someone put masks on the status of Romeo and Juliet. Symbols Last night I dreamt that I could not read. Every book was filled with gibberish. The words shape-shifted and Grass An eighty-degree day at last. We spent a few hours in the park because it’s almost possible to May 14, 2020 Fantasizing about the road again. I’m craving the sensation of speed and possibility like the time C. and I Remember Flipped on the news and I swear to god someone named Dr. Bright said this might be “the darkest winter Scramble And what does reinvention look like? I suppose it starts with giving up plans and letting go of ideas. But Next I did not think the future would begin with drive-in theaters, tennis, and landscaping. But our governor says these May 10, 2020 Today is Mother’s Day. There are still so many emotions that I will not or cannot unlock. I planted Season Time feels like an increasingly fictional concept as these weeks and months continue to bleed into one very long day. A Ghostly Figure Spiraling Up out of Nowhere Today would have been my parents’ anniversary, and I might be the only one who still remembers this. I do Diners With Fritzing Neon That You Can Hear Whenever I get into a car, I want to point it toward the Mojave desert. I don’t think any Horizon I remember speeding past a row of broken trucks, their heads bowed in prayer. Along old Route 66 in the Options Wendy’s has no meat for its burgers. The virus can change the color of your toes. People keep talking Coherence Five years ago today, I attended a funeral for my grandmother in the same church where she was baptized in Scold We live in a culture defined by putting on a mask before taking a selfie and then removing it again. Saturday An uneasy combination of sunshine and masks, as if we’re afraid of a perfect spring day. Everyone at the You Can Never See Further Than Your Headlights You can never see further than your headlights—an old slice of trucker philosophy that makes more sense with each Outline Another grey day of rain, wind, and trying to ignore the news. I spent the afternoon outlining the nineteenth draft Compound Scene from last night’s dream: I told my beloved if she gave me a fork and a knife, I’ Smile A clear and warm day at last. The park was crammed with people sunning themselves while wearing surgical masks, an Diner Tonight I miss sitting in diners and listening to people murmur and jive, scraping their forks and stirring their coffee. Glum A rainy Sunday that underscores these days of suspension. New York is reporting fewer dead each day, and there’s Avalanche Strange how something you’ve heard a thousand times can suddenly knock you over. Maybe it’s a shift in Drain How many times do I need to remind myself not to look at my telephone in the morning? Woke up Ruins Flipping through an old notebook last night, I came across a page dedicated to the first time I saw a Flowers Heat-mapping cameras are being designed to scan our distance from one another in workspaces and on the streets. Our White Thunder First proper thunderstorm of the season in New York City. A crack of thunder rattled the windows and its violence Fugue Today the price of oil went negative for the first time since we’ve started keeping track of these things. Interference A world so quickly and thoroughly changed. I find myself frequently returning to a century-old line from The Surrealist Reverb Dreamlife and reality feel as if they’re blending a little more each day. Last night I woke before dawn Mouth I can’t stop staring at this photograph. I zoom deeper into these faces bunched against the glass, as if Slow Difficult mood today. I watched footage of thousands of protestors swarm Michigan’s capital to chant “Lock her up” because Wednesday Time blurs. Every day feels like it’s either Monday or Saturday. Why is there something so heartbreaking about the The Grammar of Dead Casinos The Western States Pact. The Midwestern Coalition. The Northeast Pact. America’s states are forming regional coalitions as they chart A Time to Rethink Everything Heavy rain and wind today. I stood at the window and watched raindrops slide down the glass like I was We’re Born, Then We Die, and What the Fuck It’s hard to remember there was a moment when the novel coronavirus was finite, when patient zero’s immune Saturday Night During a Pandemic My thoughts return to the stars again because there’s nowhere to go on a Saturday night during a pandemic. The Names of the Lights Overhead I’ve gotten in the habit of walking to the river each night to look at the sky. Lately I’ The noise of humanity prevented God from sleeping. Last night I dreamt about a god who was angry because the noise of humanity prevented him from sleeping. This Like I’m about to commit a poorly-planned crime. These days I walk to the market like I’m about to commit a poorly-planned crime. Even if our Space They named the virus corona because it looks like a crown. Each night I join the rest of the city Lung Sitting by the river on god-only-knows which day of this pandemic season, I watch a little boy say Park The park is crowded today and it’s an awkward but kind dance among strangers, six feet apart. A woman April 4, 2020 Another day of sirens punctuated by the daily seven o’clock cheer. For a moment each evening, the sound of Prediction It’s a disorienting sensation, knowing we are living through a season that will be written into history books, a Doubt Now they’re saying the virus spreads by talking and breathing. We can kill each other just by being a Passing Passing each other on the sidewalk, we hold our breaths like children in a graveyard. The numbers have shifted from Brinkmanship Ambient classics + unholy reverb<br> 120 minutes Shake This is the last day of the longest month many of us have ever known. I stood in a Soviet A burst of animal noise from a wounded city. Taking a cue from Italy, each night at seven o’clock, we cheer for the nurses, doctors, grocers, and transit Grid New York City. Another blank grey day when nature is still figuring out how to get to spring. We live Days of Conspiracy We check the death tally each morning like the weather report. Point Each day is a copy of the last. Make coffee. Make phone calls to make sure nobody has a fever. Kneel A late-night walk through the city to pick up some supplies and leave them outside my elderly neighbor’s The Bad Juju Starts Bouncing Off the Walls A hush fills the city, a sense of bracing for a blow. We know things will get worse. We watch Night This is dedicated to the nighthawks and graveyard shifters, you beautiful enemies of sleep. My schedule has drifted into the Blank Each new headline reads like something from a schlocky dystopian thriller. A senator who hates the government has tested positive Always Do Your Best to Wipe Everything Down Like the stages of grief, denial leads to anger. For two months, our government denied what was happening before our Artificial We shelter-in-place while the television counts the infections and the people who’ve died. They keep the numbers Hothouse A few months ago I wrote: “Somebody could tell me tanks were at the Canadian border or the entire Eastern Quiet I used to be so shy. There was a time when I would count how many words I said each An Echo of the Days and Weeks After Losing My Mother These are long days of suspension. Brittle energy fills the city as we retreat inside for safety. Yet there are Vigilance I woke late and began my day by scanning an article that said gun shops are seeing a surge in Distance Starbucks has removed the chairs from its tables. News anchors wear gloves to model good behavior. We saw the coronavirus Communion These days I feel better with the television news playing in the background, even though it’s nothing but nonstop Closed Friday the 13th and the city feels like it’s emptying out. I feel a twitchy need to assign significance A Swirly Purple Storm With Tumbling Microbes Crushing lines at the supermarket and the shelves are empty. The streets hum with a hunter-gather energy like the Spike Infections continue to spike, throwing daily life into a state of suspension. There’s no other story in the news, Countryside Went to an exhibition about the countryside that felt like walking into a Wikipedia entry written under the influence of Armory Visited the annual Armory Show at Piers 90 and 94. Ticket prices were outrageous but I managed to slip inside Stay Wild and Free I remember standing before the gods on a rainy Monday morning in Taiwan. Once again, the question that haunts me Sanitizer We wash our hands constantly like we’ve done something wrong. We try not to touch our faces. The man One of the Finest Things I Own Is a Lamp One of the finest things I own is a lamp with a stern brass pirate, one hand on his hip Tuesday Another chapter in this endless season of passive-aggressive battles in hotel lobbies and gyms, their flatscreens cycling between Fox Little Failed Utopias There are more seats on the subway than usual today and the library is extra quiet. Everybody’s taking care Hills A confirmed case of coronavirus in Manhattan. These are days of hand sanitizing lotion and being told to sing “Happy Leap A leap day. A reminder that if we can make extra days, we can do whatever we want. But today Scribble At an academic mixer, a consultant from Brussels asked everyone to draw the shape of their lives on a Post- Cross Woke from a dream that I was pounding on a counter demanding a cash-back rebate because my soul was Jabs Maybe we don’t need to have a president. Another chaotic debate among the Democrats, another feast for television pundits. Salmiakki Sixty degrees in February, and it’s never going to snow this winter. Twenty boxes of salmiakki arrived from Helsinki Virus She scrolls through websites that sell protective face masks while I half-watch a conspiratorial documentary about our hyper-mediated Pattern They’re caucusing in Nevada today. Voters organize themselves in the corners of gymnasiums and hotel conference rooms. The networks Bow The motel manager was unnervingly chipper when I checked in, a shine in his eye that could have been religion Perfect A man studies yesterday’s horoscopes on the train. Event Debate night in America. We tune in because we need to know: Who can withstand the punishment of live television? Love I remember sitting in a cathedral on a snowy February morning and watching an elderly couple hold hands. They looked Eye Today I learned about the metaphor of the shark’s eyelid. Sharks have a transparent membrane that allows them to The 45th Parallel You can feel the geography shift when you see all that big pine and cold water. Blue Why are so many visions of the future cast in cool tones? We watch science fiction movies and look at Ghost Woke with a yelp from a tense dream of standing on a Russian coastline while pieces of my life washed Living among strangers is essential. February, a month that sounds like a bruise. The weather in New York City feels like one, too. Purple skies Dreams Three recurring dreams: 1) a murderer who creates traffic jams in front of ambulances; 2) The “dishwasher episode” of a Powerball My screen delivers footage of strangled sea turtles and disoriented walruses plummeting off a cliff. The United Nations says we’ Clutter A man had a heart attack at a Starbucks the other day. I keep thinking about his glasses, fedora, and I thought we deserved a worthy villain. Some people worry the American president won’t cede power if he loses the election this year, an observation that Decision Another day of headlines that describe people blasting, slamming, firing back, shutting down, lashing out, and tearing into one another— Twilight One of those mornings when I put two contacts into the same eye. You really have to pay attention. On Boot Today the president was acquitted of abuse and obstruction because we live in an exquisitely detailed form of hell. This Change It’s unseasonably warm again, with a late April wind blowing through early February. An old woman on the subway Attending to the World One of those days when the moon is perfectly visible in an empty blue sky. It’s unseasonably warm for Birthday Birthday. Maybe it’s an auspicious one: it’s the first time in over 900 years—since 11/11/1111— February 1, 2020 Flipped on the television to watch live reports from sites of pandemic anxiety: confused scenes from airports, schools, and hospitals. Columbia University Design and development of web series that archives the research and initatives from place-based programs where students, academics, and professionals come together with local governments and organizations to collaborate with underserved communities. To Watch a Fireplace the Way I Watch Television A grim alignment like some rare cosmic event: the United Kingdom’s departure from the European Union occurred on the The Adults Have Left the Room It’s a strange sensation, living a life divided between these days of pixels and a childhood defined by magnetic Light Note to self: You will never remember to write it down later. And so this journal continues. Today I started Glitch This morning I went jogging for the first time in months because I signed up to run a half-marathon Hidden I’m struggling to return to the rhythm of New York after spending a month on a dark island in Rotation The volume is louder in America. Voices and sirens, the televisions playing in empty lobbies and waiting rooms. We talked Turbulence The turbulence began the moment we entered American airspace, crossing from New Brunswick into Maine. The airplane shuddered and rocked. A Robot Scanned the Fading Canvas of a Rembrandt At the Rijksmuseum, a crowd gathered in front of a plexiglass box to photograph a robot scanning the fading canvas Maybe religion and weather are intertwined. One last train through the Helsinki gloom. I will miss this city’s dignified buildings and straightforward sensibility. What shapes January 22, 2020 I’m starting this new decade—and this journal—by revisiting the places where the last one began. Strange how Past I spent the day returning to scenes from a decade ago, starting with the place I once lived: 33 Uudenmaankatu The Wonder Is Still There Looking at the sky tonight, I think about Origen of Alexandria, the philosopher who believed the stars were rational creatures January 18, 2020 Alone in Helsinki. The sky is pure gloom with rain that hangs in the air, refusing to fall. It’s Etch these strange times into my memory. The idea cohered on the train somewhere between Turku and Helsinki: take a photograph and write at least three sentences Solitude Last day on the island of Korpo. Spent a remarkable evening with some of the people who live in the "But reality is diabolical." This season is shaped by muted Bergman films projected on the wall in the hour of the wolf. I can’ Scale White caps on the Baltic today, and the wind was like radio static in the trees. I came across moments Cabin We took a ship through the Finnish archipelago towards a small island in the Baltic Sea. The service was purely tonal. I went to a 700-year-old church on Sunday morning and the service was purely tonal because I don’ The priest apologized for the warm weather. An artist led us across boulders covered with electric green moss and worried about the lack of snow this season, Crying Maybe the universe is sympathetic, after all. A window left open in the back of the mind. Traces of frost in the moss. Ice on the rocks. Will it finally snow? There has been no snow yet Intoxicated Woke from a dream in which I discovered my consciousness was powered by someone else forced to run on a Nostalgia Walking along the empty road of a remote island in the Baltic Sea, I remember driving down Interstate 75 twenty Consolation Calm water on the Baltic Sea and a low January sun at noon. For a moment I can feel the Information After my mother died, my father spent his days wandering through discount department stores, fixated on tracking down the correct Silence Alone on an island and the silence is like walking into a wall. These short winter days feel like a Bookends When we landed in Helsinki in January 2009, Candy and I watched the inauguration of Obama from our hotel room Ash Wandering through Turku’s streets and museums, I cannot stop marveling at the low-hanging sun: an endless magic hour Cathedral Now begins the season of Arvo Pärt and private hymns for a better year. On New Year’s Day, I Truly the Last Days Eclectic click and doom<br> 80 minutes 2019 Rotation Pictures, songs, and paragraphs wash across my screen one minute and disappear the next. Thirty Seconds of Ink, Metal, and Light A preview trailer for Light the Barricades, a series of electrified shrines across Los Angeles that Candy Chang and I Melancholia I woke up with Melancholia on my mind. Six days after watching it, I cannot shake the airless world of Our Broken Sky Here is another book that describes the end of our world. I did not want to spend 228 pages thinking "But memories mix truth and lies." Bi Gan’s Long Day’s Journey into Night is the best film I’ve seen in years. Built from 2018 Rotation The endless churn of the digital jukebox brings to mind Adorno and Horkheimer’s phrase from 1944: “the freedom to choose what is always the same.” Scenes from America’s Taj Mahal Notes from an accidental visit to a temple in West Virginia. Desks Snapshots of the places I read and write. Despite my best intentions, my desk is always messy, an uneven terrain Glitches in the Sublime Blade Runner is a story about god, a fever dream about grabbing your creator by the throat. So Tired Meanwhile, we fight amongst ourselves, slinging hashtags and hysteria. Vinyl Portraits I stay awake into the small hours, measuring margins and tinkering with code while playing moody records. I remember the Saturday Night Niland, California. Half-past midnight on the edge of the Salton Sea. “Everything is a mystery and I’m just Between the Stories What is the role of fiction in an age of perpetual outrage, engineered distraction, and vicious governance? After returning to Some Strange Region of the Universe I spent the month of February in Iceland as part of the NES Artist Residency, where I worked in a The Logic of God The choral drift of Popol Vuh’s ‘Aquirre I Lacrima di Rei’ sounds like glaciers, mist, and devotion. After listening Grief Is a Beast That Will Never Be Tamed The Lakkos Residency<br> Heraklion, Greece The Sacred and Profane Absolute stillness in Athens on Christmas morning. After a night of garbled dreams, I walked past shuttered storefronts covered with Makes My Heart Black Candy Chang and I recently collaborated on a mural in the Lakkos neighborhood of Heraklion, Greece. Grief Is a Beast Philosophy Is an Ambulance Grief can arrive on a gust of wind, a glimpse at a calendar, or a half-heard snippet of conversation on the street. Hymns for the End of the World Slow-motion strings and liturgical drones from Athens, Greece. Guilt and Grace On January 5 I walked along the sea in Crete and remembered my father who died on this day last The First Two Paragraphs of My Novel He is an old man, beleaguered and muted like the last televised days of Richard Nixon, a bleary man with The Shock of Nevermore My father would have turned sixty-eight yesterday. I do not know how to celebrate him now that he is The Story of Philosophy Finally tracked down a clean hardcover copy of Will Durant’s Story of Philosophy, which might be the book I Desk No. 2 New Orleans, Louisiana. A bundle of letters written by my grandfather in 1943, a book of Winogrand photographs, and some The Last Year of My Father I thought grief would be dignified and monumental like a tower shrouded in mist or quiet days spent weeping in a dim room. American Decay Reverb + tape loops<br> 43 minutes Night Stations Sometimes a Waffle House is a home. I found salvation in a pool of sodium light twenty-three miles east The Manufactured History of Indianapolis “The Manufactured History of Indianapolis reminds readers that histories are not always just made. Sometimes they are made up. Folklore, She Dreamed of a Place Called Fat City Combining a surreal collage with a short fable, this mural in Fat City invites passersby to reflect on the mythologies Enchanted Desert A jittery man with long blonde hair and a tight leather jacket warns me about the desert. “When you go The Prevention of Dying “As our walking is admittedly nothing but a constantly-prevented falling,” wrote Arthur Schopenhaur, “so the life of our bodies Midnight at the Veterans Hospital The William S. Middleton Memorial Veterans Hospital does big business during the day. Disoriented veterans from several wars crowd its The Dead Man's Line Carly Dee would always remember the moment she saw the man with the sawed-off shotgun. 9:04am on February Isadora Ain't Foolin' Me Any They say she invented modern dance. She did not survive America. Pneumonia Notes The Veridian Fingertip Oximeter is a small plastic widget that monitors your blood oxygen level. You can buy one for Love Destroys Time Love Destroys Time is a public art installation in an abandoned apartment complex that was part of Exhibit Be, the Chaos Is Your New Lady The shattered wall of a bathroom stall says Stop Making Excuses in baby blue paint. Reverberated Crying A dusty ballad plays in a grand old ballroom filled with tailored men and elaborate hairdos. The singer’s baritone Chaos Is Your New Lady Dream ambient<br> 48 minutes Mojave Super Eight Desert music<br> 59 minutes Orfeo Writing about technology is tricky. The language is hideously undignified (tweet, google, blog, etc) and the landscape shifts by the The Helis Foundation Designed a new website for this New Orleans foundation dedicated to advancing access to the arts by funding non-profit April 10, 1965 Look at that face with the Valentine eyebrows and pin-up girl pout, her ribbon mouth blowing a plume of Televised Memories What was going on with film processing during the late 1970s and 1980s? The photographs and films of the forties, The Bureau of Manufactured History Inspired by the methodology of Surrealism and the madness of Dada, the Bureau of Manufactured History works to uncover the She Watches Eli Lilly at Midnight From the rooftop of a cheap hotel stained with weather and time, a woman gazes across the city at the The Last Free Place About two miles southeast of the Salton Sea, make a right turn on Main Street and keep going until the Architectural League of New York The optimism of World's Fairs, A.M. Cassandre, and the WPA was channeled into this poster campaign for the Architectural League of New York. Blue Motor Lodge Busted dub + vintage ballads<br> 57 minutes The Road to Somewhere “The inspiration is so simple: Head out at random into America and see what you find. James A. Reeves found Midnight on Dauphine 100 Minutes