A simple place for essays, experiments, and useful ideas.
Notes and essays, organized by date.
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656 published posts across 11 pages.
September 21, 2022
The table in Kenilworth had a paper napkin under one leg and coffee that had been sitting too long. That is not a complaint. Some meals are remembered because the room makes room for a tired person. Neighborhood food is…
September 20, 2022
The line went out badly near the edge of a local lake, and there was no way to pretend otherwise. Fishing has a way of making impatience visible. The water does not care how clean the cast looked in a person's head. I w…
September 17, 2022
A simple plate can feel like a relief when food has become too loud. I understand why people are drawn to fewer choices. It can quiet the bargaining for a while. That does not make it magic, and it does not make it righ…
September 15, 2022
Hillside looked better from the side street than from the main road. That is usually true of New Jersey towns. You have to miss the quickest way through.
September 15, 2022
Rahway looked better from the side street than from the main road. That is usually true of New Jersey towns. You have to miss the quickest way through.
September 14, 2022
The shoes were by the door before I felt like walking. That is usually how health works for me. The useful thing has to be started before the mood agrees to it. Sleep, food, walking, lifting, water, less noise. None of…
September 12, 2022
The old war notes I was reading made me think less about speeches and more about boots, mud, and mail. World War I becomes too large to hold if it stays only on maps. The smaller details bring it back down to human size…
September 9, 2022
The thought started at a bus stop, looking at the places people pass before anyone knows their name. Public lives can look inevitable from a distance. They never are. Everyone starts on some street, in some kitchen, und…
September 7, 2022
I had Walt Whitman open with a church bulletin nearby and the room getting a little darker. The poem did not explain itself all at once. The better lines rarely do. They stay put while the reader shifts around in the ch…
September 3, 2022
The page of Byron was sitting beside gas-station coffee, which was probably the right amount of drama for the room. Byron is easy to admire for the wrong reasons. The speed, the pose, the beautiful wound, the refusal to…
September 2, 2022
The morning started with an old pen on the kitchen table and no great feeling of readiness. I said the short prayer anyway. Not because the room changed, and not because I suddenly understood what to do next. Prayer is…
August 30, 2022
Opened George Herbert for five minutes and got more than I deserved from it. Closed the book before I started turning the line into a speech.
August 28, 2022
The thought started at a bus stop, looking at the places people pass before anyone knows their name. Public lives can look inevitable from a distance. They never are. Everyone starts on some street, in some kitchen, und…
August 24, 2022
Westfield looked ordinary from the road, which is usually when a place is easiest to underestimate. Union County keeps a lot of its memory in street names, rail crossings, old storefront shapes, and the odd bend of traf…
August 21, 2022
A catbird held still near the road longer than I expected. Traffic kept moving. A door shut somewhere. The bird or animal did not seem interested in becoming a lesson. That is probably why I noticed it. Suburban New Jer…
August 20, 2022
The table in Berkeley Heights had a paper napkin under one leg and coffee that had been sitting too long. That is not a complaint. Some meals are remembered because the room makes room for a tired person. Neighborhood f…
August 20, 2022
The page of Byron was sitting beside cold coffee, which was probably the right amount of drama for the room. Byron is easy to admire for the wrong reasons. The speed, the pose, the beautiful wound, the refusal to sit st…
August 19, 2022
A chipped mug sat next to the open page, and James 1 did not need much decoration. I read it slowly because I have a bad habit of making familiar words too easy. A verse can become furniture if a person only walks past…
August 17, 2022
The thought started at a bus stop, looking at the places people pass before anyone knows their name. Public lives can look inevitable from a distance. They never are. Everyone starts on some street, in some kitchen, und…
August 10, 2022
The thing that stayed with me was not a headline but a kitchen detail: rationing, blackout cloth, a careful hand with what was left. World War II can become too clean in memory if it is only told through victories. The…
August 5, 2022
The thought started at a bus stop, looking at the places people pass before anyone knows their name. Public lives can look inevitable from a distance. They never are. Everyone starts on some street, in some kitchen, und…
August 4, 2022
The thing that stayed with me was not a headline but a kitchen detail: rationing, blackout cloth, a careful hand with what was left. World War II can become too clean in memory if it is only told through victories. The…
August 4, 2022
Westfield looked ordinary from the road, which is usually when a place is easiest to underestimate. Union County keeps a lot of its memory in street names, rail crossings, old storefront shapes, and the odd bend of traf…
August 3, 2022
Winfield Park looked ordinary from the road, which is usually when a place is easiest to underestimate. Union County keeps a lot of its memory in street names, rail crossings, old storefront shapes, and the odd bend of…
July 21, 2022
Union looked ordinary from the road, which is usually when a place is easiest to underestimate. Union County keeps a lot of its memory in street names, rail crossings, old storefront shapes, and the odd bend of traffic.…
July 20, 2022
The thought started at a bus stop, looking at the places people pass before anyone knows their name. Public lives can look inevitable from a distance. They never are. Everyone starts on some street, in some kitchen, und…
July 20, 2022
The thought started at a bus stop, looking at the places people pass before anyone knows their name. Public lives can look inevitable from a distance. They never are. Everyone starts on some street, in some kitchen, und…
July 18, 2022
The evening started with gas-station coffee in the cup holder and no great feeling of readiness. I said the short prayer anyway. Not because the room changed, and not because I suddenly understood what to do next. Praye…
July 18, 2022
A simple plate can feel like a relief when food has become too loud. I understand why people are drawn to fewer choices. It can quiet the bargaining for a while. That does not make it magic, and it does not make it righ…
July 11, 2022
The thought started at a bus stop, looking at the places people pass before anyone knows their name. Public lives can look inevitable from a distance. They never are. Everyone starts on some street, in some kitchen, und…
July 8, 2022
A deer held still near the road longer than I expected. Traffic kept moving. A door shut somewhere. The bird or animal did not seem interested in becoming a lesson. That is probably why I noticed it. Suburban New Jersey…
July 7, 2022
I had Walt Whitman open with a grocery receipt nearby and the room getting a little darker. The poem did not explain itself all at once. The better lines rarely do. They stay put while the reader shifts around in the ch…
July 7, 2022
A church bulletin sat next to the open page, and Luke 15 did not need much decoration. I read it slowly because I have a bad habit of making familiar words too easy. A verse can become furniture if a person only walks p…
July 1, 2022
Winfield Park looked ordinary from the road, which is usually when a place is easiest to underestimate. Union County keeps a lot of its memory in street names, rail crossings, old storefront shapes, and the odd bend of…
June 30, 2022
Isaiah 40 was the page I opened to, and I almost closed it too quickly. Some days a familiar line only needs a second chance.
June 23, 2022
A folded napkin sat next to the open page, and Isaiah 40 did not need much decoration. I read it slowly because I have a bad habit of making familiar words too easy. A verse can become furniture if a person only walks p…
June 19, 2022
The thought started at a bus stop, looking at the places people pass before anyone knows their name. Public lives can look inevitable from a distance. They never are. Everyone starts on some street, in some kitchen, und…
June 15, 2022
A crow held still near the road longer than I expected. Traffic kept moving. A door shut somewhere. The bird or animal did not seem interested in becoming a lesson. That is probably why I noticed it. Suburban New Jersey…
June 13, 2022
The evening started with gas-station coffee in the cup holder and no great feeling of readiness. I said the short prayer anyway. Not because the room changed, and not because I suddenly understood what to do next. Praye…
June 12, 2022
The thought started at a bus stop, looking at the places people pass before anyone knows their name. Public lives can look inevitable from a distance. They never are. Everyone starts on some street, in some kitchen, und…
June 10, 2022
The thing that stayed with me was not a headline but a kitchen detail: rationing, blackout cloth, a careful hand with what was left. World War II can become too clean in memory if it is only told through victories. The…
June 8, 2022
Stopped near a small pond long enough to check the water and make one bad cast. No fish. No tragedy. The wind had better timing than I did.
June 8, 2022
I walked a little through Mountainside with gray light moving across the street. The older blocks had that New Jersey mix of pride and wear. A good front step, a tired sign, a small business opening its door. Nothing dr…
June 7, 2022
The thought started at a bus stop, looking at the places people pass before anyone knows their name. Public lives can look inevitable from a distance. They never are. Everyone starts on some street, in some kitchen, und…
June 4, 2022
I had George Herbert open with an old pen nearby and the room getting a little darker. The poem did not explain itself all at once. The better lines rarely do. They stay put while the reader shifts around in the chair.…
June 4, 2022
The line went out badly near the Rahway River, and there was no way to pretend otherwise. Fishing has a way of making impatience visible. The water does not care how clean the cast looked in a person's head. I watched t…
June 4, 2022
An old pen on the kitchen table caught my attention and then the day kept moving. Not much to say beyond that. I wrote it down because small things disappear fast.
June 3, 2022
The thing that stayed with me was not a headline but a kitchen detail: rationing, blackout cloth, a careful hand with what was left. World War II can become too clean in memory if it is only told through victories. The…
June 2, 2022
James 1 was the page I opened to, and I almost closed it too quickly. Some days a familiar line only needs a second chance.
June 1, 2022
The thing that stayed with me was not a headline but a kitchen detail: rationing, blackout cloth, a careful hand with what was left. World War II can become too clean in memory if it is only told through victories. The…
May 31, 2022
The thought started at a bus stop, looking at the places people pass before anyone knows their name. Public lives can look inevitable from a distance. They never are. Everyone starts on some street, in some kitchen, und…
May 30, 2022
The late hour started with an old pen on the kitchen table and no great feeling of readiness. I said the short prayer anyway. Not because the room changed, and not because I suddenly understood what to do next. Prayer i…
May 27, 2022
An old pen sat next to the open page, and Romans 8 did not need much decoration. I read it slowly because I have a bad habit of making familiar words too easy. A verse can become furniture if a person only walks past it…
May 22, 2022
The old counter had better manners than most new rooms. It let people sit without asking what the sitting was for.
May 16, 2022
The line went out badly near Echo Lake, and there was no way to pretend otherwise. Fishing has a way of making impatience visible. The water does not care how clean the cast looked in a person's head. I watched the weat…
May 9, 2022
The thought started at a bus stop, looking at the places people pass before anyone knows their name. Public lives can look inevitable from a distance. They never are. Everyone starts on some street, in some kitchen, und…
May 5, 2022
The line went out badly near Echo Lake, and there was no way to pretend otherwise. Fishing has a way of making impatience visible. The water does not care how clean the cast looked in a person's head. I watched the weat…
April 28, 2022
I had William Wordsworth open with a marked envelope nearby and the room getting a little darker. The poem did not explain itself all at once. The better lines rarely do. They stay put while the reader shifts around in…
April 27, 2022
Berkeley Heights looked ordinary from the road, which is usually when a place is easiest to underestimate. Union County keeps a lot of its memory in street names, rail crossings, old storefront shapes, and the odd bend…
April 26, 2022
The thing that stayed with me was not a headline but a kitchen detail: rationing, blackout cloth, a careful hand with what was left. World War II can become too clean in memory if it is only told through victories. The…