HeyJaredWorking Toward Coalescence
F.O. Gameiro writes about consciousness, identity, and biology, and how their interactions give rise to the kind of world we live in.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 17
- Latest publication
- Sep 29, 2026
- Audience
- Checking…
- Earliest in this view
- Jul 15, 2026
Latest issues
The Ended World by Libbie Grant (opens the original)
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Attending a writing and literary conference in Boston early this year, I encountered a new small press publisher called Galiot. I liked their model and started keeping tabs on them. As I started mucking around more on Substack, I started to find authors with book projects supported by Galiot. I found an interesting and unique character of an author, . She regularly posted interesting opinions and lengthy live videos with nearby sheep. It’s both weirder and less weird than it sounds. In any case,
Living Longer (opens the original)
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If you’ve been reading this story, you can skip down to Scene 3 labeled below, but I am going to keep the story running in its entirety with each repost. First, because no one needs to find the previous scenes. Second, because I have been revising the early scenes slightly as I go along, so each version is slightly different.Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy!OPENING SCENE“You don’t have to live longer to live longer, Bobby.”I can still hear him. The doc. Can picture him, too. In the exam room
On Its Own (opens the original)
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I never got to cut the cord. It broke on its own.That’s what my mind whispers as I stand alone in the woods, listening to footfalls and laughter fade into the dark. My son is disappearing with them. That’s what kids do.*****I have never told anyone how scared I was on the day he arrived. Not because becoming a father scared me—though it did. That was normal fear. What I felt, briefly, on his birthday was something older and more primal than anxiety. Terror, really. It lasted fewer than five minu
Incense (opens the original)
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The smoke hasn’t drifted ten feet from the censer, but the smell of incense quickly finds me in the second pew from the back.Frankincense. Myrrh. God, I love the smell. It’s why I’m here. The smell.When I was a kid, they always broke it out for the major Masses. Christmas. Easter. Pentecost.I got up close and personal with it when I served as an altar boy. That’s what they called us. Sometimes there were funerals on Saturdays. Fr. Frank Divine—no joke, his name was Divine—called every now and th
Catch and Toss (opens the original)
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being scared of my parents.homework too late to start.catching the footballdropping the football.social ladders laid flatat a long lunch table.caring about classespretending I didn’t.corsages and boutonnieresbackseats of cars.fishtails in parking lots.lukewarm drinks in woods.crush-obsessed daydreamsglances tossed the wrong ways.saving the dayday after day.<a class="image-link image2 is-viewable-img" href="https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1706801274630-3f800ed5ec43?crop=en
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