I used to find Superman exceptionally boring. As I get older, I see the appeal of a character whose core internal conflict is being a powerful, genuinely kind outsider in a world that doesn’t deserve him.

Once upon a time, the ever-evolving graffiti on this reservoir near the psych unit was a cave-painting-record. I photographed much of it over months.
One day they painted it grey. The next day:

No one told me these “sovereign citizens” were out here starting “linguistic cults.” What a spectacular combination of words.

I turned Rage Against The Machine’s “Sleep Now In the Fire” into a lullaby for my daughter. She calls it the “fire song.” She loves it.

Darnielle describing “Riches and Wonders,” which is a lovely song I already identify with to a degree that it makes me uncomfortable. Now I feel more seen and heard and unfortunate.

The Mountain Goats, though.

Anyone know how a movie that was uploaded for free on Vimeo ends up for rent/purchase on Amazon Prime? Nobody involved went through the necessary process. Asking for a friend.

Sometimes editing a second draft makes me feel abusive toward the version of me that wrote the first draft. Like, why am I here now, editing this, idiot? You couldn’t get it right the first time? Idiot.

I intended to die young. I wrote a book instead. I guess I’ll just keep writing books until I do finally die.