Metanoia: Report on Probability #2

Lada Terra/Venus/T+1.327   Deren stood watching the east horizon’s dirty yellow smudge, lightning popping inside clouds of sulfur like neurons in some titanic mind. Forcing himself to the west viewport, he gazed across fewer than a hundred meters of cracked gray slate, where loomed Venera 24, a metallic abstract simultaneously broiled, dissolved, and squashed—even three […]

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Gray Skies and Current Things

I’ve never understood the mass hostility toward gray weather—no matter the season. For me (admittedly not qualifying as “most people”), rain and gloom go together like chicory and coffee. This is one of those gray days . . . rain ticking against the roof, and me ready for only a few minutes on WordPress. Wednesday […]

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Metanoia: Report on Probability #1

“We don’t want other worlds; we want a mirror.”—Solaris (1972) Outside looking out, Watcher-A drifts above towers of silence in the dead city, pauses after 73 hours of surveillance to bask in magnetic fields droning behind Tulip-in-Bloom, corroded petals and rockets erect as if worshiping the sky in submissive defeat. Yesterday, frozen winds sliced emptiness […]

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Ghosts of Point Pleasant

  A less structured, impressionistic post for you today, covering several of my trips to Point Pleasant, West Virginia, and surrounding environs. Roughly a mile upriver of Point Pleasant, and on the Ohio side of —you guessed it—the Ohio River, is a quiet nook easily missed unless you’re looking for it. A green-lawned patch, replete […]

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Paranormal Relevance: So What?

  This article will annoy True Believers, and likely infuse True Skeptics with warm fuzzy feelings. I intend to provoke neither response—I’m not a True Believer or a True Skeptic. Those slots on the evolutionary chart represent extreme perspectives, and I’d like to think myself possessed of a more “balanced” sensibility (laugh it up, critics).  No matter Colin Wilson’s credo: “The outsider’s salvation lies in […]

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Arctica, You, and Neo-Brutalism

“The universal condition of mankind,” said novelist John Fowles, “[is] a state of loss.” To which the equally penetrating Günter Grass returned: “There is a mania to call the lost thing until it returns.” The lost thing, which undid humankind eons ago, lives in Arctica. In you. That country far of purple twilight, where icy waters […]

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