Fiction For Now
If I see one more decade-in-retrospective listicle, I’m going to shred my calendar. Entering the 2020s doesn’t necessarily mark the portentous turn of some cosmic page. January 1 has no more inherent significance than December 31, or any other planetary spin cycle. Silly humans, inflating the importance of our own arbitrary frameworks (ironic in this... Continue Reading →
Maybe it's my OCD talking, but year's end always strikes me as a good time for cleaning. As long as I'm packing away the holiday decorations, why not go a bit further and start the new year organized? While tidying my office recently, I unearthed a folder crammed full of writing-related material I'd forgotten I'd... Continue Reading →
I have a confession: I hate New Year's Eve. No, really. On a philosophical level, the reminder of time passing and dreams yet unrealized depresses me. On a pragmatic level, I can't stand hordes of noisy inebriates and restaurants pushing prix fixe menus at four times their usual rates. The handful of times I've ventured out to... Continue Reading →
