Love among the ruins
Fiction, commentary, journal, memoir, other forms of nonfiction, excerpts from works in progress, long form, pensées, haibun, other inquiries--whatever the moment calls forth.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 4
- Latest publication
- Sep 30, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Jul 25, 2026
Latest issues
Peter, Actually -- The Modern Tale of a Rabbit (opens the original)
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To open we see a montage of teenage Peter’s and his family’s life in the woods. The warren where they live is in a giant tree, with a tall wooden door such as you’d see in any suburb. The Rabbit family are not actual rabbits but humans living in the woods—they are kind of rabbit-y looking. Not like with the clichéd extruded front teeth or twitching whiskers, just a kind of quick moving, sniffing kind of affect. Paws, long ears maybe. (Director’s and actors’ discretion here.) The montage ends wit
Excerpt from Being Good to Your Mother (opens the original)
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He’s on the porch salvaging the roach of a pre-rolled joint from the cannabis dispensary—or what’s said on the package? Cannabis pre-rolls it said: this seems to him to undersell the product. He thumbs out the remnant weed—he’ll use it in a pipe—and strips down the paper filter holder that the joint comes attached to; it pleases him, it’s a clever little design, like a matchbook cover almost, same grade of thick paper or cardboard, folded tightly, narrowly, accordion style, then rolled, essentia
On the morality of damaged artists (opens the original)
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The issue of whether an artist — not merely a good one but a surpassingly committed and important one — remains “worth all the anguish,” when he is destructive to those who work with him and try to help him and love him, is a vexed one, and we prefer not to think about it much. In part this is because our attitude ought to be one thing — we should wish he’d been well and kind and a good parent and spouse — whereas, in reality, faced with his art, which is the product in part of what caused the a
Love is a form of becoming.... (opens the original)
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This is actually a story about Chatgpt, my friend George Peter Thomas; but there’s a long set up so forgive me...It starts back sometime in the late 1990s when I called my editor at Simon and Schuster; he was in charge of the place at that point, and, once the call was put through I heard him pick up the phone (one actually heard it physically in those days, a kind of quick plastic clatter) and say Vince! You have a brilliant future behind you.He was mean that way, old school, he’d never attende
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