J.M. Thor 🧿
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mr-thor.bsky.social
J.M. Thor 🧿
@mr-thor.bsky.social
270 followers 1K following 270 posts
School librarian.
Dad x 3.
Writer of weird fiction and horror.
MLIS 2025 ✔️
eml jm[dot]thor[dot]author@gmail.com
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mr-thor.bsky.social
It seems like all my years reading the Moles' dialect in Redwall would have prepared me to deal with Joseph's brogue in Wuthering Heights, but NOPE.
A photo of text from Wuthering Heights, written in inscrutable dialect.
October 21, 2025 at 8:22 PM
mr-thor.bsky.social
In @gabino.bsky.social's The Devil Takes You Home, something tells me this references a piece of real-world music, given how he uses musical/lyric cues to such great effect in his books. I am curious what it is, it sounds v chill!
A photo of a kindle screen with a paragraph of text from The Devil Takes You Home, by Gabino Iglesias
October 18, 2025 at 8:02 PM
mr-thor.bsky.social
Working on #Halloween for my eldest girl ⚠️ #gravityfalls
September 24, 2025 at 5:25 AM
mr-thor.bsky.social
Sunday #shelfie
A photo of 3 and a half shelves of a loosely-organized bookshelf, double-filled and overflowing with books, knick-knacks, and small photos
August 31, 2025 at 6:50 PM
mr-thor.bsky.social
In suburban Arizona, roasting supermarket Hatch chiles in 110° heat under the daytime Sturgeon moon is about as close as it gets to Singing The Harvest Home.
August 11, 2025 at 12:21 AM
mr-thor.bsky.social
Shel Silverstein would like a word...
August 9, 2025 at 5:36 PM
mr-thor.bsky.social
The Charm of 5:30:
Tbe Charm of 5:30 It's too nice a day to read a novel set in England. We're within inches of the perfect distance from the sun, the sky is blueberries and cream, and the wind is as warm as air from a tire. Even the headstones in the graveyard seem to stand up and say"Hello! My name is..." It's enough to be sitting here on my porch, thinking about Kermit Roosevelt, following the course of an ant, or walking out into the yard with a cordless phone to find out she is going to be there tonight. On a day like today, what looks like bad news in the distance turns out to be something on my contact, carports and white courtesy phones are spontaneously reappreciated and random "okay"s ring through the backyards. This morning I discovered the red tints in cola when I held a glass of it up to the light and found an expensive flashlight in the pocket of a winter coat I was packing away for summer. It all reminds me of that moment when you take off your sunglasses after a long drive and realize it's earlier and lighter out than you had accounted for. You know what I'm talking about, and that's the kind of fellowship that's taking place in town, out in the public spaces. You won't overhear anyone using the words "dramaturgy" or "state inspection" today. We're too busy getting along. It occurs to me that the laws are in the regions and the regions are in the laws, and it feels good to say this, something that I'm almost sure is true, outside under the sun. Then to say it again, around friends, in the resonant voice of a nineteenth-century senator, just for a lark There's a shy looking fellow on the courthouse steps, holding up a placard that says "But, I kinda liked Reagan." His head turns slowly as a beautiful girl walks by, holding a refrigerated bottle up against her flushed cheek. She smiles at me and I allow myself to imagine her walking intotown to buy lotion at a brick pharmacy. When she gets home she'll apply it with great lingering care before moving into her parlor to play 78 records and drink gin-and-tonics beside her homemade altar to James Madison. In a town of this size, it's certainly possible that I'll be invited over one night. In fact I'll bet you something. Somewhere in the future I am remembering today. I'll bet you I'm remembering how I walked into the park at five thirty, my favorite time of day, and how I found two cold pitchers of just poured beer, sitting there on the bench. I am remembering how my friend Chip showed up with a catcher's mask hanging from his belt and how I said great to see you, sit down, have a beer, how are you, and how he turned to me with the sunset reflecting off his contacts and said, wonderful, how are you.
August 9, 2025 at 5:15 PM
mr-thor.bsky.social
World: Series
World: Series When something passes in the dark I make a note on a pad kept by the window. Candlelight wobbles on the walls, over the baseboard electrical outlets that look like primitive swine masks and I can't remember if I read or dreamed about them- a sect on the Mayflower called the Strangers- four or five adults who gathered in the hold and spoke to no one through the three month passage. When the boats landed on the beach they walked into the North American forest and were never seen again. I put my book down and come to the window where curtains are fastened to the sides so it is like looking out at the world through the back of a teenage girl's head and my signature is drawn in magic marker on the lower right hand corner of the window so when something passes in the dark it's captured for a moment inside my work. I come to the window and title the eras Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and watch the wind in the tension of the blown trees, the moon illuminated by my attention. When something passes in the dark, I try to tell its side of the story. "I am passing someone in the dark," it thinks...
August 9, 2025 at 5:15 PM
mr-thor.bsky.social
Democratic Vistas:
Democratic Vistas The narrator was shot by the sniper he was describingand I quickly picked up his pen. What luck, I thought, to be sitting up here in the narrator'stower where the parking lots look like chalkboards and the characters scurry around or fall down and die as I design it. Then I started to read the novel I'd inherited, and didn't like what I discovered. Most of the characters were relentlessly evil, taken right off the bad streets of the Bible. The narrator would interrupt the story at all the wrong times, like a third wheel on a date, and deliver shaky opinions like "People who wear turtlenecks must have really fucked-up necks." He would get lost in pointless investigations, i.e., was Pac-Man an animal, so that when we returned to the characters many pages later, their hair had grown past the shoulder and their fingernails were inches long. In support of the novel, I must say it was designed well. The scenes were like rowhouses. They had common sidewalls, through which one could hear the faint voices and footsteps of what was to come. I've lived those long driving scenes. Everyone knows how hard it is, after you've been on the road all day, to stop driving. You go to sleep and the road runs under the bed like a filmstrip. I also liked the sheriff's anxious dream sequence, where he keeps putting a two-inch-high man in jail, and the tiny man keeps walking out, in between the bars. After a sleepless night he's awoken by the phone. There's a sniper in the University tower. The sheriff stands before the bathroom mirror. Drops of Visine are careening down his face. They are cold and clear and I can count them through my rifle scope.
August 9, 2025 at 5:15 PM
mr-thor.bsky.social
But David Berman also wrote wonderful poetry. His main anthology, Actual Air, came back into print after his death and is still fairly easy to obtain.

This platform sucks for sharing poems, but I'll append some of my favorites below, check the alt-text for the full-text:

Snow:
Snow Walking through a field with my little brother Seth I pointed to a place where kids had made angels in the snow. For some reason, I told him that a troop of angels had been shot and dissolved when they hit the ground. He asked who had shot them and I said a farmer. Then we were on the roof of the lake. The ice looked like a photograph of water. Why he asked. Why did he shoot them. I didn't know where I was going with this. They were on his property, I said. When it's snowing, the outdoors seem like a room. Today I traded hellos with my neighbor Our voices hung close in the new acoustics. A room with the walls blasted to shreds and falling. We returned to our shoveling, working side by side in silence. But why were they on his property, he asked.
August 9, 2025 at 5:15 PM
mr-thor.bsky.social
On David Berman, a thread:

Six years ago we lost David Berman when he opted out of the future. At the time it hurt, a lot, but only the passing of the years has made me realize just how much his lyrics and writing have informed my worldview, and my own work. (Tw: suicide)
A black and white photo of David Berman, a skinny man with dark hair and beard, holding a cigarette while sitting at a cafe table.
August 9, 2025 at 5:15 PM
mr-thor.bsky.social
Found on the backpage of my middle school library's copy of Wuthering Heights, which has circulated twice since 2013.

#ephemera #teenagekicks
A note written in the corner of a library book's back page, in cursive script, reading "I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow & the soul. - Pablo Neruda"
August 6, 2025 at 8:09 PM
mr-thor.bsky.social
Haven't seen the new Superman movie yet, but friends are saying good things. For me, Superman is whatever, but I do love a good spectacle.

Mostly it makes me pine for a properly psychedelic Swamp Thing movie, which would be amazing in the right hands. Let's do ego death on Imax. I mean, come on:
A psychedlic two-page spread from Alan Moore's run of Swamp Thing comics A psychedlic two-page spread from Alan Moore's run of Swamp Thing comics, depicting two characters face to face with a red eldritch abomination A psychedlic two-page spread from Alan Moore's run of Swamp Thing comics
July 12, 2025 at 5:35 PM
mr-thor.bsky.social
Look for my story The Fathomeer, releasing October 20 in This World of Vile Wonder from @coyhall.bsky.social, alongside eight other dark tales of science and exploration.

Preorder the ebook now for $3.99 to find out what all the fish is about -
mybook.to/vilewonder
Two angles of a fish hanging from a line, wrapped in some kind of blood-red jellyfish that covers most of its body
July 10, 2025 at 12:55 PM
mr-thor.bsky.social
Me when I awake from uneasy dreams to find myself transformed into a silver 2017 Ford Fusion
The front grille of a silver Ford sedan, with a license plate holder that looks like a face making an expression of surprise
July 10, 2025 at 6:12 AM
mr-thor.bsky.social
Probably a hot take but I fucking love fireworks. Sorry Toby.
A close up of a red heeler's face, looking exasperated.
July 4, 2025 at 10:27 PM
mr-thor.bsky.social
Notes from my 72 year old mother about her local #NoKings demonstration 🤘💙
I went to the local No Kings event today. There were two in [xxxxxxx] - I went to the east side event. It was a very large, peaceful, and love-filed scene. It was the best parade I’ve ever been in. People filled the sidewalks on both sides of [xxxxxx] for about ten blocks, plus a city park at one end. I actually didn’t make it to the park - just joined the full sidewalk marchers when I walked up from the south. I marched with my church, beside our banner (which we blessed at last Sunday’s service). My sign says “Love Your Neighbors as Yourself” - true to Jesus’s teachings as well as to UU principles - and I take it to all the actions I am a part of. It is always well-received. I was moved to tears several times today by the enormous outpouring of support by the passing motorists, and the crowd of all ages standing up for the country we love. It was a cacophony of honks, waves, and cheers. Very inspiring and energizing.
June 14, 2025 at 11:27 PM
mr-thor.bsky.social
What inspires you to write poetry?
To the old main characters who chose to sit right next to me during The Life of Chuck for no fucking reason Afternoon movie, second row, dead center A pre-booked beer in each cup holder An extremely rare date with myself Let’s fucking go “We’re in seats 6 and 7,” you said “Okay,” I said Standing there like I’m in your seat but I’m not “Oh,” you said. “I guess you’re in seat 5.” I was. “Hello neighbors,” I shrugged and gritted my teeth Lots of room in this theater, why here? Why here? Could you not figure out the touchscreen? For fucks sake, next time pick better seats “He has teeny tiny ears,” you said After spilling your popcorn onto my lap “Who has teeny tiny ears?” you said “He has teeny tiny ears,” you said Pointing at the actor on the screen Mumble mumble Chat chat chat I wound up moving two seats over Because fuck me, I guess If we all contain multitudes As the story suggests so eloquently And I know I do Then your multitudes fucking suck Leave them at home next time You inconsiderate fucks
June 14, 2025 at 11:06 PM
mr-thor.bsky.social
Revisiting some old D. Pinkwater favorites as bedtime reading with my kids — used to be bedtime reading for me with my mom — and it is parently clear where my lifelong interest in weirdlit, slipstream, and absurdism stems from.
The cover of "Lizard Music" by D. Manus Pinkwater, depicting a boy sitting on a couch while lizards playing musical instruments emerge from his TV
June 14, 2025 at 4:09 AM
mr-thor.bsky.social
You may call me Master now 🤘
May 21, 2025 at 5:36 AM
mr-thor.bsky.social
Night queen
👁🦇👁
May 1, 2025 at 5:19 AM
mr-thor.bsky.social
👁👁
April 24, 2025 at 9:25 PM
mr-thor.bsky.social
Sunday afternoon read, A Guest In The House, by Emily Carroll. ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌟/5. Her trademark visual pacing is used to great effect to draw out the secrets of a stepmother haunted by the ghost of her new husband's ex-wife. Highest recommendation.
An illustration of a caul-like sac hanging above a standing woman, wrapped in thorny vines A six panel comic page of a woman slowly reaching into her own neck, before being interrupted by the doorbell A woman holding her mouth open so an off-frame dentist can examine her teeth, framed by lush red foliage A ghoulish waterlogged corpse crouching om the chest of a woman in bed
April 14, 2025 at 2:35 AM
mr-thor.bsky.social
Neighborhood cactuses are going HAM right now 🌵🤩
A cactus covered in huge white blossoms A cactus covered in huge pink blossoms
April 13, 2025 at 6:32 AM
mr-thor.bsky.social
Been meaning to pick this one up, and Lo and behold it's a bestseller in the "teen & young adult country life" category. Sounds like a nice relaxing pastoral novel.
March 23, 2025 at 4:00 PM