Writing

Can’t Sleep

Writing
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You know that feel­ing you get when you for­get where you parked your car at the mall?

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If but on a breath

Writing
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I note a trill of you…

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When Love and Pride Collide

Los Angeles
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Love is to hold a per­son in the high­est pos­si­ble regard. It is an unstop­pable force. Pride is to hold one­self in the high­est pos­si­ble regard. It is an immov­able object. That is all good and well, until the first col­lides with the sec­ond. So the ques­tion is: What hap­pens when an unstop­pable force col­lides with an immov­able object?

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To Catch a Dream of Flying

Beirut
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Sometimes I dream of fly­ing. I’ve had that dream since I was eight. Not every night, but often it comes to me when I’m least pre­pared. I have oth­er dreams as well, but this is the most real and bewil­der­ing.

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On Terrorism

Beirut
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First, a dis­claimer: I’m against all forms of vio­lence regard­less of method, scale, pre­text, or con­text.

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Téléphone Cassé

Beirut
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Here it is: a book two years in the mak­ing, pro­duced over a week­end at the urge of friends and fam­i­ly (all of whom I men­tion inside).

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