said to the wife yesterday, “look at this cute guy i just saw in the car next to me,” then showed her this.
  • Camera: iPhone 5s
  • Aperture: f/2.2
  • Exposure: 1/1580th
  • Focal Length: 4mm

said to the wife yesterday, “look at this cute guy i just saw in the car next to me,” then showed her this.


Darryl Strawberry

"There is no trap so deadly as the trap you set for yourself."
- Raymond Chandler

Photo: Walter Iooss Jr./ Sports Illustrated

feel like this would never again be relevant, but I should have some kind of macro to auto-reblog any combined mentions of Darryl Strawberry and Raymond Chandler.


Daily Cheever turned 2 today!

(Apparently) two summers ago, I gave myself the goal of reading Cheever’s red collected stories book. One-a-day seemed a good goal, and I tried tumbling/blogging about them as I went. I ended up not even finishing the collection, and I wasn’t great about posting about each story, but it was a good, fun goal.

And, in a “bigger picture” way, made me a better writer; and in a more specific way, it basically led me to sorta kinda trying to write my version of “The Swimmer,” which became “The Neighbor,” which is included in Backswing. When I first finished a draft of the story and traded it with a friend for comments, maybe the “best” comment he gave me was on the strength and creepiness of the simplicity of the first sentence of the last paragraph, which is just the first sentence of the last paragraph of “The Swimmer,” with the tense changed.

Robert Lopez: No News Today - Guest Post - Joe Sacksteder

Is it in you?

From what our sources tell us, it isn’t. Perhaps it once was, but it no longer is. Like most everyone who grew up in this country, we’re sure it has been in you at some point. We want to put it back into you.Try to revive the bluffs that loomed above the outfield fence at Talcott-Page, the baseball-swallowing darkness that pocked the sumac and crevasses, the sirens – even a gunshot once in a while – that reminded you that this was the bad part of Rockford. As if you could have forgotten. It was summer and it was baseball and you were young, but dusk and storm clouds and the earthy smell of lightless conduits was an encounter with the end of something, there at the beginning.

Take a sip of Riptide Rush. Put Fierce Grape into you. Try to trick your body into believing – just for a moment – that you are still an athlete. That you still have and still need it in you.