Feast Week

I’ve never been big on working with the human dead, whether blood ancestors or otherwise, and so far the only person who seems like a probable exception to this is JRR Tolkien. I’ve been moved by the spirit of this man and the spirit of his works for more than 15 years, and I think … More Feast Week


Something got hold of me in my grandmother’s house late one night. It felt like fog in my stomach, honey in my lungs, And my words felt damp like theĀ drip, drip, drippingĀ of a wet cave. There was moss on my legs, they were roots, actually, Creeping down through the floorboards into the black earth. That … More Oath

The Fix

I’ve been thinking about miasma lately; about that time Markos Gage told me that artists are an inherently miasmatic demographic of people because of all the creating we do. I understood that on a very deep level but intellectually I struggled to make anything coherent of it. Which, maybe, is besides the point. Lately – … More The Fix

One of the surest ways to find out if you’re doing Work is to stop doing it and see what happens. I took a 2 month break from it, and my life crumpled. I lost all sense of time, of obligation, of who and where and why. I did something related to it instead – … More

There’s something to having to dig the hole to bury your dead. It’s holding the shovel, swinging the pickax, the sound of you knocking on the earth and digging the door. Even if it’s a small hole, no bigger than you if you’d curled up nice and tight. It’s feeling the weight of the wood … More