That he spends more time narrating what he would do to you than doing most, if any, of it is the kind of intermittent reward used to create addiction in lab rats. You are the rat.
RECENTLY PUBLISHED
The Lorikeet
My mother was the first to notice. She was always acutely aware of animals, nature, and cute things that cooed.
Self-Portrait Through Many Doors
Self-portrait because I once saw a door and knew not to open. Because behind every door is a mouth, and the tongue, a road.
Sidelined, or No Pain, No Gain
I think it was the first time it hit me that I was disposable, that we all were, that we players were on an assembly line of talent, and when we reached the end, it didn’t matter much whether we fell in the trash or not.
The Spell of Exile
If the child is the father of the man, couldn’t the reverse also be true? That the man, too, becomes a child again, in the presence of his own child.
From the Archives: The Den of Earl
It was a favorite line of his. More than him saying it, I was frustrated by the expectation that a nine-year-old should know how to thaw and cook red meat. I was forever failing at things I was never taught to do.
From the Archives: About My Father’s
So I’ve venerated the labor of my father’s hands, decided that that’s the real.
