I don't know why I'm posting this here. Perhaps to get it off my chest without throwing it in the faces of the people who read Nobod...

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Since Slate closed the Fray, many of us have moved here . Please drop by and say hello.

The phone rings. It’s Madeline. She’s left her white t-shirt and bobby socks in the dryer. The same white t-shirt and bobby socks that I was...

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Day 9 – In Which My Inner Child Gets It It’s another all-day meditation day, but from the time I wake up unti...

Part One Part Two Day 7 – Rainforest 2:30am. Three hours seems to be all the sleep my body wants, so I get up to take a leisurely show...

Part One Day 4 – Further Insults I wind my blue cashmere-and-silk scarf around my neck and go to the morning meditation. For the retr...

Day 0 - The Last Supper I wake up sniffling and coughing at 6am. After getting a flu shot and taking Vitamin C crystals for weeks to mak...

Several things I have read lately (plus one movie), all fantastic, converge around a central idea: the thrust of 20th century art was to blu...