A selection of the best books I read in November, which, admittedly, still isn’t done yet but close enough: Between the World and Me, by Ta-Nahisi Coates. A series of essays, framed as a letter written to his son, on the poisonous Dream of a white America. Just amazing. The Omnivore’s Dilemma, by Michael Pollan. […]
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I was eating a bunch of clementines the other day, and one of them smelled off. Last year, I got a bag of clementines with a number of fruits that were just bad. Eventually I ditched the whole bag–well, first I shoved it in the fridge and pretended it wasn’t there for a month. It
I asked on Facebook what nonfiction books they would recommend for becoming a better citizen of the world/universe. It sounded like a fun thing to ask; I like to ask for recommendations. Over a hundred and forty books later… Please note that I am not a trained bibliographer and you’re lucky you’re not just getting
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The whole collection is live! Oct 31: TRICK OR TREAT It is a thousand years from now. Whenever now is, it’s a thousand years after that. A cure for mortality has been created—crafted—perfected. Humanity has moved to the stars. Why not? We have literally nothing better to do than to explore the
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October Nights: 31 Tales of Hauntings and Halloween Available on Kindle A collection of flash fiction: 31 tales for the 31 nights of October. As wide a variety of horror as I could come up with–from Barker to Bradbury to Zenna Henderson. SPOOKY SHORT FICTION – PERFECT FOR A HALLOWEEN NIGHT! Thirty-one horror tales of
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Oct 30: GHOST “It’s experimental,” Whitcomb said. “So we’re not sure what’s going to come out of it. It could be about as interesting as giving a toddler a keyboard.” “You know what they say,” Nicholls joked nervously. “An infinite number of monkeys typing on an infinite number of typewriters will eventually type
Oct 29: FULL MOON Mary could only leave the house on a full moon. The doctors said she had agoraphobia, but that was because they didn’t have a word for what she had. She had always thought it rather strange—that the inside of her mind was determined by words, rather than the other
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Oct 28: CEMETERY The day was gray and depressing. The golden leaves had all fallen and been raked away, and the hills around the cemetery were dull as pot-metal from all the bare tree branches. One or two evergreens speckled the vista, but for the most part it was scenery in need of
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Oct 27: MASK Whenever I get a diagnosis, I’m never really sure that it’s my diagnosis. I have what I have nicknamed Mystery Autoimmune Disease, or as my sarcasm-laden boyfriend likes to call it, “MAD Cow Disease.” I forgive him because he painted me a picture of a Holstein cow in a can-can dress
Oct 26: VOODOO Sam’s kitchen wasn’t one of those photogenic open restaurant kitchens. Au contraire. It was stained floor tiles and a gaping grate in the middle of the floor, battered heavy-guage pots hanging from blackened hooks, a walk-in baking oven with yellowed glass, a mixer with a bowl that could hold a couple
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