I’ve been going to bed alone this summer while Ross is in England, and the nights are hot and still. As the day ceases to stir and I grow deaf to the low drone of the fan, the spaces between sounds spread till they touch, silence to silence. No other body breathes; no other arms [...]
The Very Distillate of Life
Aug 12th, 2010
When I see men able to pass by such a shining and miraculous thing as this Cape May warbler, the very distillate of life, and then marvel at the internal-combustion engine, I think we had better make ourselves ready for another Flood. —Louis Joseph Halle, Spring in Washington I don’t know much about Louis Joseph [...]
On The End and What You Do Before
May 13th, 2010
There are a few themes that preoccupy me in my life above all others: Death, if you know me, you know is primary. I can’t place when I first learned the word or grasped the perfect emptiness it contains, but I do remember (at the age of five or six or seven) regularly dampening my [...]
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Twitter: gruntleme- The ceiling fan helicoptered into your dreams, but when you wake the view is still Madrid. Courtyard. Red tile. You are in the right place.
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