I woke up to fog this morning. So thick, we couldn’t see the cars from the front door. This wouldn’t be so strange if I were still in San Francisco, but I’m not. The air grew so smokey at the end of August that I was afraid to make the short journey from my rented bedroom to nearby Glen Canyon. The stillness drove me insane. The fact that my shut-tight room was still inundated with the scent of fire and plastic melting against bone did not help. So, I flew back to my parents’ home and my brother …
Black Honey
Suppose these streets were yours, and mine: what would it profit us? I take up my small space, my paltry plot, and clutch the deadbolt on my gate, whispering “Thank God.” I could do much worse than stewing in safety, stirring around my apartment all through daylight and ladling into bed each night. I am not a survivor—I just keep on waking up. Wouldn’t I be mad to invite the out-there into these walls... I can watch you (and me in some other world; body) anytime, taking back these streets for a …
Curious and Curiouser
Only after speaking with Elena Passarello for an hour do I remember that in an earlier incarnation she was an actor. Perhaps that’s why she’s so at ease being interviewed. She seems to possess none of the stilted seriousness that so many writers like to put on when talking about their work. Tellingly, her show business past is given all the attention of a footnote in her first essay collection Let Me Clear My Throat—a scientifically girded exploration into the oddities and impacts of the …