A Reverie On Failure Part 1: Walking Into a Warm Meadow with a Leather-bound Journal
Here is my journal which I kept from October 5 to December 21, edited for readability, followed by periodic commentary.
Author: John David Duke Jr
David was begotten and conceived in the ordinary way in the middle of 1972, possibly on his father's birthday. Since then, it's been an unremarkable go, except for the time his dad took him to help disarm a Cherokee woman who was shooting at her mother with a rifle.
The Jubilee Year: Or How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love You
Turning the calendar page is only a reminder that we have little power over a few affairs scattered here and there.
One Is the Loneliest Number
If there is not a one atop the denominator, there is no longer a declaration of The Faith; instead, adherents are reduced to arguing probabilities.
Sclerotic Institutions and The Comfort of a Demographic Death
Enduring institutional death is a difficulty of another magnitude and rising again is all but impossible. But some can die healthy deaths.
The Dispossession of the Post-war Boom
Buffalo’s pride has made it like Capernaum: instead of the Roman Empire, she is oppressed by the Empire State, who hates its own people.
Best Meal Ever Week: Suyapa by the Sea
Every fiber of my being screamed with pleasure when I laid eyes on the syrupy nectar oozing into the many clefts within this exquisitely prepared fish.
Richard Pryor’s Father and the Transforming Truth of Fatherhood
The fear of my father is transforming, evolving, not less in fear, but growing in it, producing a fruit, of sorts.
The Riddle of The Mother
Now I’m wondering whether the professor wrote the riddle because it was already a dangerous question in mid-19th Century Germany.
Against Primary Schooling: Anecdotes, Questions, and Commentary
To dismantle the primary school system is not desirable, but it is necessary. What we have now is a triumph of the middle of the 20th Century…
Out of Horror, Change
The beauty of change is first a horror, the writhing, serpentine figure of death setting fire and killing by almost any means a mind can imagine.
Dancing with the Asterisms
Asterisms, personified as so many lords and queens, rule us, but they do not govern with a static scepter. The scepter is a prop, a baton, in truth, as they dance.
