I was at my local record store this summer, perusing the racks, when I looked up to the shelves above, where the higher-priced LPs sit. There sat a copy of the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s debut, Fever to Tell, at which I stared, wondering. Am I this much of a record collector?

Maybe next time, I decided. Continue reading

Two albums in as many months, two albums in a blink of an eye.

Tonight, I’m on my couch, listening to years-old Beach House instead of the new, and trying to make sense of where this year has gone. Continue reading

We were talking about my childhood when she asked a question, stunning in its bluntness. Continue reading

We were at the bar, talking through the last three days as we set up a card game. Everything and nothing had changed in the days since we’d last imbibed together—a whole lot of talk, and a non-zero amount of action. Continue reading

There’s a bruise on my arm, a lingering reminder of last week’s misadventures. At first, I thought I’d escaped such a wound, but this one was sneaky, waiting to appear until it seemed the danger had passed.

Though the week, it’s shifted shades between yellow, black, and blue, serving as a demented mood ring for brutal times. And yet, somehow, through it all, there hasn’t been a single moment when it hurt. Continue reading