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the trains still run

They never taught us more than how to make things. They did not explain how to take pictures, or write stories, or record songs when the walls are falling down. What should you paint when the sky is falling? And yet, they taught us all we needed to know. As I have begun to understand over and over again, all art is political. All freedom is freedom. The trains still run. The cameras can still be loaded with fresh rolls of film that smell of plastic and possibility. If there is a pothole, at some point it gets filled. Sometimes it just takes a hell of a long time to happen.

The sun rises. Children trundle around in the snow, laughing, falling down and getting back up again. Yes, the news is unthinkable. Yes, the headlines are poisonous enough to make you throw things out the window. But there is still dinner to cook, and why not make it delicious? Why not crack an egg, or laugh wildly at nothing in particular?

There was a night, about eight years ago when I was told that the militia w…

Mad World (a scary song)

no words

a sort of homecoming (speaking English)

It's our pleasure to serve you

an expat holiday

directions

more than winter (the fool)

adjustments

messy clocks (to be seen)

pianos (a different life)

the imaginary numbers

promises

lining up the bones (saved by chicken shit)

wandering nameless streets (Tony Come Back August)

candy (the cinematographer)

Where is Valery?

the Abraham Lincoln summer

snapshots from the end of summer

burnt toast is the sweetest

What do you want to be when you grow up? (sucker punch)

when you smile (I am a boat)

fumbling in the dark (pushing elephants)

something about rain (E makes a movie)

anything was possible (suffer no more)

white nights and no place to go

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best personal blogs