Mind Games

Ellen always tells me, "You don't need to be Sigmund Freud to interpret your dreams," and she's right. The unfinished school paper, the forgotten class, the phone that will not work … these are all classic dreams for someone who's personality looks like this:...

You Gotta Move

It's Day 5 of Gray and Gloomy here in the 'Lou, and the wind is picking up and the rain is falling and the temperature is falling, so my thoughts turn internal. Not that that should be news to anyone. I am inwardly focused to a fault, and yet curiously concerned with...

Thought I'd Something More to Say

For Christmas 1981 or '82, my sister gave me Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon. That New Year's Day it snowed, and snowed and snowed and snowed, and I remember sitting on the beanbag in her bedroom, listening. It was easy to imagine–as the heartbeat fade-in...

Resolutions: 10 Verbs for 2018

For this new year's resolutions, I'm giving up on quantification ("Read X books a month") and abstraction ("Live more simply"). Instead, I just have list of 10 verbs to focus on off and on throughout the year–nothing to complete, no real goal, and no particular...

The Incident

Because Monday is a holiday this week, I'm taking a break from my usual Monday memoir piece. What follows is a kind of Christmas story–except it doesn't take place at Christmas, or even in winter. I wrote it for school in the fall of 1984 and introduced it to my...

Dead Things, A Triptych, Part II: Eggs

Dead Things, A Triptych, Part I: Lightning Bugs God started taking my mother's voice around 1980. This was my 14-year-old perception: God was taking her voice. At the end of that year, Mark David Chapman shot and killed John Lennon outside his New York City home. So...