A blinking plane moves across the dark night sky filled with other—more natural, but more stationary—stars. 

At station nine under the roof of the 50-yard pistol range, I held the gun steady, making minor adjustments to my grip until the center white dot was in between the two outer white dots. With the center of my right index fingertip, I pulled the trigger slowly, remembering Dad’s instructions, You almost want to be surprised when it goes off. The moment of explosion is sudden and disorienting. After each shot, I lowered the gun to look at the target. I was hitting the target below the orange circle in the center. I raised the gun again and aimed a little higher. To the left and right of me, at stations eight and eleven, two other guns were going off. The noise each time a gun would go off was so loud that I could feel the pressure of the bang moving through the air. 

At station nine under the roof of the 50-yard pistol range, I held the gun steady, making minor adjustments to my grip until the center white dot was in between the two outer white dots. With the center of my right index fingertip, I pulled the trigger slowly, remembering Dad’s instructions, You almost want to be surprised when it goes off. The moment of explosion is sudden and disorienting. After each shot, I lowered the gun to look at the target. I was hitting the target below the orange circle in the center. I raised the gun again and aimed a little higher. To the left and right of me, at stations eight and eleven, two other guns were going off. The noise each time a gun would go off was so loud that I could feel the pressure of the bang moving through the air. 

On the circular blade of the pizza cutter in the cylinder of kitchen utensils, the reflection of the flame from the gas burner glinted, as the tea kettle on the stovetop whistled, to tell me that the water was hot and ready to be poured into the mug in which I had already placed a bag of chamomile tea.

When he was a kid, Grandpa, his siblings, and their neighborhood friends used to sleep in the backyard some nights. They had army tents that were long and triangular with two walls and no floor. After their parents went to bed, they got up and walked to the nearby golf course. They went to the fourth hole because that was the hole with a water hazard. They rolled their pant legs up and, in the dark, stepped around in the shallow parts of the pond, feeling around and picking up golf balls with their toes.

Sitting around the table, we each told our best snake story after dinner tonight.

Grandpa ran over a rattlesnake with the lawnmower. He hung it in the tree, finished mowing the yard, and then, once he was back in the house, he thought, I should go get the rattler off that snake. So he walked back out to the tree where he had hung it, but by then a bird had gotten it.

Dad was driving down the highway one day and a snake crawling across the road was so long that its head got to the median before its tail was out of the grass.

I was using an earth auger to dig holes for tomato plants and the bit stopped turning. I looked down in the hole and I could see something wrapped around the bit. I thought it was a rope. I reached down to pull it out and then the head of a snake came up and hissed at me. I jumped back, pulled the cord to start the auger back up, and made the snake into fertilizer.

An outlet on the wall. A phone charger plugged into the top outlet. A yellow cord plugged into the bottom outlet. The corner of the pillow case. The books on the shelf. The empty shooter standing beside the open case of poker chips. The phone face down on the ground. The stack of multi-colored poker chips. The carpet.

My fingers rest idly on the keys, or at least they did before I started typing this.

I stood at the fridge, filling up a cup of water. I looked at the clock on the oven. I was still writing downstairs, but I also needed to trade a crypto. I already knew what trade I wanted to put on. I had checked the price this morning and it was down, which made it a good time to buy. But then I had got caught up with my writing and forgotten about it. I wondered if the price had moved back up. I hoped it hadn’t. The clock said 4:19. I had a meeting with a writing group that I needed to finish the writing for at 5:00. I also needed to edit the pieces of the other writers in the group. Did I have enough time … Then I heard the splashing and felt the cold water hitting my bare feet on the hardwood floor.

I had a dream about her last night that was so detailed I could see the freckles on her face in their correct spots.

One day, when I was in grade school, there were about 200 kids on the playground. Somewhere on the jungle gym. Summer on the asphalt playing kickball. Somewhere on the field playing soccer. Somewhere on a different section of the asphalt playing foursquare. Some were in the trees, running around the trunks and pretending to be horses. I don’t remember where I was. Maybe I was playing kickball. All of a sudden, there was a mad rush to one area of the soccer field. At first, it was like a scene out of a movie or something bad happens like a bomb exploding and everyone is running around, not knowing what to do. In this case, however, it was the exact opposite. It was like the bomb imploded and sucked all the kids into one point near the center of the soccer field. I was one of the last ones to get there. There was already a crowd gathered around the center. I thought my way through grabbing shoulders, pulling them back, getting down on my knees my hands and knees and crawling in between legs. Once I got there, I got one glimpse Of what was causing all the commotion before a teacher reached in and snatched it away. It was a picture in a magazine of a naked woman in a bathtub. At the time, I had no idea I was looking at a porno magazine. I didn’t even know a porn was. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen a naked woman before. But in an instant, without explanation, I understood why the magazine was like a bomb that sent a shockwave through all the students and sucked them in, almost with some intangible suction that pulled on all of our intuitions. I learn more about the world—about why wars are fought, why poetry is written, and why humans keep on living and dying—in that instant, than I had in all my schooling up to that point. 

The hubcap on the wheel of the car driving by doesn’t care how many times it spins, how many revolutions. It doesn’t have a stomach. It won’t get sick. 

The spider crawled up the wall in the basement and through the crack in one of the ceiling panels.

How many spiders are up there?

As long as they stay up there, I don’t really care.

We started talking about crypto and how the U.S. dollar might lose its value. Then I brought up how I think most of the tasks currently done by the human labor force will be automated. We’ve won. We’re the most dominant species on the planet, but we can’t stop ourselves. We’re at the peak, but we’re about to fall off a cliff. My brother mentioned the importance of sustainability. We need to engineer and produce sustainably. But it’s more than just an economic problem. It’s an emotional and spiritual problem.

“All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone.” — Blaise Pascal

The first is the worst day of a vacation to get sunburned. On the last day, it doesn’t matter as much, especially if you are headed back to a place with less sun, like San Francisco. It is even good to have the sunburn when you get back, to prove to yourself that you really went and had a vacation and were changed by it. 

Taking the drug is like gas. But you won’t get far, even with the high-octane premium stuff, if you’re filling the tank of a lemon. A rocket spends many hours in a million pieces and, even before the pieces, as lines on the chalkboard. All that takes time, hard work, and discipline. Then, once you’ve earned your heroic hit and you step onto the launchpad, you’ll look up and know, without fear, that you’re about to get high.

We kept the back door open during the thunderstorm. The rain pattered on the fallen leaves in the yard. Through the window, a lightning flash illuminated the cars in the driveway, the neighbor’s fence, the pond in the distance. I counted the seconds … one, two, three, four. Four seconds. Then the thunder rumbled, somewhere off to the northwest. When I was young, I was told that the lightning strike is as many miles away as the seconds you count between when you see the lighting and when you hear the thunder. Four miles away, someone didn’t even get to one. 

Was it this beautiful when I was growing up here? Was I too young to notice? Did I have to leave to see places that were less beautiful, by comparison?

A dog barks in the backyard from behind the chain-link fence, while I walk by on the sidewalk. 

I’m not usually a procrastinator, but lately I’ve been making tea, checking my phone, chewing gum, playing with the dog, doing push-ups, watching YouTube—anything other than sitting in my seat and getting the words down.

It was beautiful again today. I meant to go outside in the early afternoon, but I watched the first half of the football game on TV, worked on my computer, made dinner, and

It didn’t help that daylight savings ended today and we lost an hour.

I went for a run after dark. The moon was like a fingernail clipping in the night sky. The lamps along the trail in the park were all turned off. I could just barely see the paved trail under my feet.

With less to see, my mind’s eye turned inward. I could feel my breath pumping in and out of my body. I could feel the shockwaves radiating up my legs as my heels impacted the pavement, as well as the subsequent flexing of my muscles to stabilize the shakiness.

A strand of cobweb hangs from the ceiling, swaying like it’s suspended in water. The big clock ticks on the wall. My fingers rest idly on the keys, or at least they did as I was looking for something to write about, before I started typing this.

When I drive, it feels like a simulation. Like a racing game in a video arcade. I think it’s because I spend too much time on the computer. I forget that I’m a body in the physical world, not just a mind in the virtual world. I stumble on the stairs after I’ve stepped away from my desk and think, “What’s going on? Why am I not ascending?” Then I remember, “Oh, I have to use my legs.” But on the road, the stakes are higher. I can stumble on the stairs and still survive. A crash could be fatal. Not like the video game. There’s no respawn. 

Oh, I don’t know. None of the rough drafts are ready. It’s late. I should have posted before I went to the bar.

It’s 12:45am. I should have posted before I went to the bar. The time stamp on this one will probably say tomorrow. I know I’m supposed to be posting something daily. 

When we walked out of the bar, there was a cat sitting by one of the cars. It wasn’t wearing a collar. I walked her to her car and then when I walked back I saw the car scurrying across the street. It must be a hard life for a stray cat in the city. 

I got in the car and pulled out of the parking lot, thankful to be driving home.

It was nice today. Probably one of the last semi-warm, sunny days before winter. I took a backpack and a sleeping bag into the backyard and folded myself into it. I just laid there, feeling the ground beneath my back, breathing the fresh air, Looking up at the sky at the times when the clouds cover the sun so I wasn’t too bright in my eyes.

An older man wearing a blue rain jacket and a red hat open his garage door and walk down his driveway to where a trailer was parked at the curb. He let down the back gate and stepped up into the trailer. He already had a cigarette going, hanging loosely from between his lips, smoke coming out of it. He wasn’t puffing on it. It was just hanging there. He sat down in a riding lawnmower, leaned forward and twisted the key to start it up, and then lean back in the seat and pull the levers back to make the mower move in reverse down the gate and off the trailer. He held the levers like a man aware of who he was and what he should’ve been doing in that moment. The cigarettes still hung, smoking, from his lips. Even the cigarette didn’t need to be puffed. It just had to be there. And its place, doing what it was supposed to. After the man had backed all the way off the gate, he pulled the right lever back and push the left lever forward to turn. Then he pushed both levers forward to drive up the driveway and into the garage.

This morning, I vacuumed the basement. To prepare, I put the floor pillow and rug on the couch. I also put a box of old clothes, my slippers, and the rolling desk chair on top of the exercise mat. This way, these things were out of the way, so that I could run the vacuum undeterred over the carpet. 

Once I finished vacuuming, I unplugged the cord and wrapped it around the hooks on the side. Then I put the floor pillow and the rug back on the floor. But I forgot about the other things. I left them on the exercise mat. I went into my room and got a notebook to write some letters and only when I came back out to sit at my desk did I realize, “Hey, where’s my chair?”

I turned around and there it was on the mat, along with the box and the slippers—all of them together looking like they’d been standing there their whole lives, never having been anywhere else. 

This morning, I vacuumed the basement. To prepare, I put the floor pillow and rug on the couch. I also put a box of old clothes, my slippers, and the rolling desk chair on top of the exercise mat. This way, these things were out of the way, so that I could run the vacuum undeterred over the carpet. 

Once I finished vacuuming, I unplugged the cord and wrapped it around the hooks on the side. Then I put the floor pillow and the rug back on the floor. But I forgot about the other things. I left them on the exercise mat. I went into my room and got a notebook to write some letters and only when I came back out to sit at my desk did I realize, “Hey, where’s my chair?”

I turned around and there it was on the mat, along with the box and the slippers—all of them together looking like they’d been standing there their whole lives, never having been anywhere else. 

Next to my laptop is an open notebook. On the right page, on a line about halfway down, “11/3/21” is written in blue ink. Below that is a blank line. And then below the blank line are seven lines filled with an empty square followed by an item of the to-do list. Only two of the boxes are checked. The rest are still empty.

Next to my laptop is an open notebook. On the right page, on a line about halfway down, “11/3/21” is written in blue ink. Below that is a blank line. And then below the blank line are seven lines filled with an empty square followed by an item of the to-do list. Only two of the boxes are checked. The rest are still empty.

I’m at my desk. The lamp is on. There are two packs of chewing gum stacked on the base of the lamp. The still-wrapped pack is peppermint. The unwrapped pack is spearmint. I want to have a piece, but it’s late and I should probably just brush my teeth instead.

When I woke up this morning, I wasn’t aware that I heard silence first, before I heard second: the knife clanging against the inner glass walls of the almost-empty jelly jar. Up in the kitchen, my sister was getting ready for school. 

Watching a football game on the TV, I saw a mustached fan in the stands look into the camera, raise both his fists, shake them, and shout, “Let’s go!”