I like a little junk in the trunk. I ain’t your typical white guy.… more
I like a little junk in the trunk. I ain’t your typical white guy.… more
All fiction is very much about time. But we have awareness of only the things that have transpired in our own lives. Our memories are deeply flawed. So there is a kind of dream machine that’s taking place while you’re trying to explain what you’ve seen in the world and your imagination does get involved.… more
Mr. Northup began waxing poetic about anti-expansionists and abolitionists during the Mexican-American War. He exalted them like a guy talking about a girl he was still holding out hope for. These were men we’d never heard of. No movies had been made about them. No bills carried their faces.… more
At first, Jessica thinks it’s the darkness that her body needs to escape. Their tent’s air pocket of darkness. The forests’ surrounding miles of darkness. She is scrambling away from the darkness. Not the explosions opening wounds into that darkness.… more