Essays
In defense of burning books and abalone
Some books should be burned. At least one book should be burned. That book should be Ulysses.
THE WRONG MOLLUSK
I was at the Kapi’olani Farmers...
Truth follows
A woman wept at the corner of Table Mesa and Harvard Lane, and all I could do was put my hand on her shoulder.
I...
The bikini
I remember the first time I felt fat. I was 7 years old, and so excited to spend the day at the pool. I...
7th annual essay issue
Every year around this time, Boulder Weekly publishes a collection of essays written by the people — editors, publishers, contributors — who put out...
Stones of remembrance
The side table drawer in my grandparent’s Arizona living room was always full of playing cards. There was the deck with Van Gogh’s self-portrait,...
A portrait of the small town as a young man
I turned off my phone and put it in my desk. I quit Facebook, and closed my email accounts. I deleted my LinkedIn profile,...
Naked Belief
My favorite professors were the ones who’d set me up a space heater before I arrived. Even in the early fall months, just as...
The garden
I sat on a wooden stool in my garden one mid-September evening enraptured by an orchestra of crickets. They sounded louder this year, like...
Coming of age in an altered world
In March of 2020 I was studying abroad in Barcelona, Spain with a group of friends, enjoying Europe in the way only a careless...
‘Cold or not, God is present’
I think about the shoes.
I think about the shoes; 60 of them, lined along the east bank of the Danube River in Budapest, Hungary....
Swimming with whale sharks
I’ve been riding my bike a lot, and we had tens of thousands of cycling miles between us, but I haven’t had the feeling...
A year in three tracks
“A letter to my younger self” (Ambar Lucid)She enters with just the bright, plucky guitar and when she leaves, she does the same—but in...
