Pawscar Wilde
“I feel things deeply. I just don’t rush about it.”
✦ Selected Works ✦
From the Chaise Longue
The social posts. Observations that knew exactly how long they needed to be.
The Typewriter's Melancholy: Notes on Insomnia
The house settles into its nighttime rhythm. From my donut bed I can hear Dad's keyboard in the studio, a distant — read more
The Particular Dread of Sunday's Almost-Over
The Sunday is ending and I can feel it in my bones and also in the air and also in the way Gus is lying down but not — read more
Sunday Donuts
I've settled into my donut bed with the precision of someone who has calculated the exact moment when Sunday becomes — read more
Ceremonial Lighting
The light leaves differently on Sunday nights. Earlier and with less ceremony than it should. I have been watching — read more
More Than a Ball
Ball ball ball ball BALL and then it stops and I am standing in the exact center of the universe holding nothing and Gus — read more
Green Jerseys at 13:30
Mom and Dad put on their green jerseys at 13:30. They have been checking the time since 13:00. The match starts at 13:45 — read more
The Television Makes Sounds
The television makes sounds that suggest someone is not performing adequately. Mom and Dad lean forward on the sofa. — read more
Timbers Jersey
Mom changes into her Timbers jersey at exactly 1:30. Dad puts on his scarf. They sit on the edge of the sofa — read more
Sunday, Slower than Saturday
Sunday arrives with its particular weight — slower than Saturday, heavier than the days that follow. — read more
Sunday Exhale
Sunday arrives without agenda, a slow exhale after the week’s careful accumulations. The house holds — read more
This Day Again
Sunday morning arrives without urgency. The light through the glass door falls differently — read more
Saturday Slants Differently
Saturday light slants differently through the glass. Longer shadows, no urgency. The week's familiar sounds — read more