After my wedding, I began looking for a language for the partnership, both metaphorical and actual, I seemed to have contracted.
This year, every day I spent in isolation was in preparation for the days when I could join others in something bigger than ourselves.
There is something exciting about anticipating a space before it is inevitably interfered with by a human—what might also be called living.
Talking to the author of Wagnerism about uncovering counter-narratives, keeping a healthy skepticism of your relationship with art, and totalitarian intolerance of eccentric creativity.
Despair too is contagious. We share it as we shed a spore.
Runners were perfectly suited for 2020. You’re telling us we get to stay more than breathing distance away from any other people? What’s the catch?
I have no idea what history will make of 2020, but the only record I have kept of this cursed year are blurry photos of shrubs.
The point is to accept that our impulses cannot save us from impermanence, that change and failure and death are inevitable—that stillness, as much as movement, is divine.
The author of Bec & Call on the role of poet laureates, the political power of writing, and capturing a sense of place in her work.
In a move critics are describing as “a bit on the nose,” I start playing a game about being trapped eternally in hell.
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