Topics I think about idly, often, deeply:

I am presently fascinated with postmodern meta-faction, which is not strictly a legitimate or established style, but isn't that what postmodernism is kind of about? (And does not this justification make postmodern meta-faction even more metatheoretical? NESTED POSTMODERNISM, FINAL ANSWER.)

...A plane takes off in the distance and he idly imagines the people it carries and the lives that await them at their final destination. His mind cleared, he uncaps his pen and checks the clock for the sixth time that day. The display reads 7:53 A.M.

The pen touches down, and like passengers disembarking after being cramped together for hours, words begin to trickle out in single file. Smoothly, deliberately, the man begins to write.

A response to, and ultimately an attempt at a gift for, a very dear friend. It is a 4,000-word advertisement for the United States Postal Service, or it is just about how people we love are always with us everywhere, even when they can't be.

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He has toured through Vézénobres before but stops from time to time to capture compositions of scenery in still frames where the shadows and light and stone come together in formulas that please his eye. I run my hands over ancient walls and doors and soak in their silence, fingers tracing crevasses and pressing against splintered cracks, searching for a hint of a pulse, some remnant of a heartbeat lost long ago.

In February of 2013, I ended up in the southern France for a week-and-a-half and this was the result. In some ways, it is a [5-digit]-word blog post about what I ate for lunch. In other ways, it is a love letter about reality and truth and the fictions that we live and the non-fictions that we dream. It's not "Twilight" fanfic or Nicholas Sparks, but don't let's get carried away here, it's not Steinbeck either.

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