A succulent philosophy

A succulent philosophy

One evening, I returned home to find the kitchen covered in severed fingers. Green ones. I mean, that was my first impression. But the fingers were far too stubby to be human (perhaps a toddler ogre?). A selection of pots, tins and cups crowded the countertops. When...
Where would you go?

Where would you go?

Where would you go in a nuclear attack? This is a question I hadn’t thought to ask myself until recently, with two madmen publicly measuring the sizes of their … buttons. But there it is. This month, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) – normally...
My dad’s gun

My dad’s gun

When he was a boy, my dad received a marvelous gift: his father’s own boyhood rifle. It’s a beautiful object. Burnished wood stock, a thundercloud-grey barrel. After my dad died, it was the one thing I really wanted. At this moment – 2:45 a.m., cat stretched beside me...
A sort of/kind of lament

A sort of/kind of lament

I have sort of a pet peeve. Kind of annoying, to be honest. I seem to be obsessing about it more than usual, as I write this, while the summer heat descends. These three phrases – “kind of,” “sort of” and “seem to be” – have become the frayed edge of the...