author. editor.
Stupid Phones. We’re Holdouts. What Counts as Quiet? I paused in the parking lot of the suburban hotel and listened. I heard, and felt, music hurtling from a car on the street, subwoofer driving the bass beat into my bones. Somewhere on the sidewalk a woman laughed. The “Walk” signal at the intersection chirped out […]
The Backs of Our Hands. Lake Forest, CA. September, 2007. Knowing Well Five days a week, I point my truck towards town and roll in to my office. It’s an easy commute, dramatic as the oak arcades of Live Oak Canyon Road yield to banks, barber shops and bars, crammed side-by-side like diners at the […]
The Backs of Our Hands. Lake Forest, CA. September, 2007. Knowing Well Five days a week, I point my truck towards town and roll in to my office. It’s an easy commute, dramatic as the oak arcades of Live Oak Canyon Road yield to banks, barber shops and bars, crammed side-by-side like diners at the […]
> The Backs of Our Hands. Lake Forest, CA. September, 2007. Knowing Well Five days a week, I point my truck towards town and roll in to my office. It’s an easy commute, dramatic as the oak arcades of Live Oak Canyon Road yield to banks, barber shops and bars, crammed side-by-side like diners at […]
The Backs of Our Hands. Lake Forest, CA. September, 2007. Knowing Well Five days a week, I point my truck towards town and roll in to my office. It’s an easy commute, dramatic as the oak arcades of Live Oak Canyon Road yield to banks, barber shops and bars, crammed side-by-side like diners at the […]
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