What is your most treasured comfort meal?
Any lovely thing made by a person who is beloved to me: SH’s pasta dish, MDW’s Indian dishes (even his okra), anything made by DH arrayed at a table she’s set just so, any meal made by my twin brother Martin, especially if I get to watch him work. What is a species you feel is frequently misunderstood?
It’s sloths. Hear me out. Like our planet, sloths are actually moving extremely fast all the time, so fast that it seems like they’re not moving at all. We are wrong about sloths; they’re quick and fast. Science will prove this one day. Watch and see. In what environment do you feel most at home?
In water, swimming. I wish I could say “swimming in a lake or a sea”, but, at the moment, I prefer to swim in pools. This is about many things: comfort, familiarity, predictability, comfort, sight, smell, temperature, comfort, locker rooms and showers and so on, but I haven’t yet achieved ease in open water. I’m always worried about some possibility I can’t see but I know is there. I’m going to work through that though. My favorite tree in the world is _____.
I try not to grow too attached to things that I may someday have to leave, but, even with that protective instinct trying to keep me all chill and detached, I am obsessively fond of the pagoda dogwood in our small, urban backyard. It has framed so many of my days and seasons for so many years now. Our relationship feels like an extended conversation between friends—personal in that way. Nature would be better without _____.
This is an impossible question, and I think I’m meant to be smart and sincere here. I think I’m meant to say something like microplastics or forever chemicals, because, yeah, nature would be better without those. But I won’t. I’ll embrace the implied challenge. I’ll choose among flora and fauna and people. Okay, here it is: snakes gotta go. St. Patrick was right about this. All snakes are hereby banished. Sorry, not sorry. What is something you’re looking forward to?
The outdoor swim season. After years of swimming only indoors, I swam outdoors last summer at an Olympic-distance pool not too far from my house, and I fell in love again with swimming in the wind with sunlight and clouds overhead, watching my shadow all sleek and wavy on the pool’s bottom. I was enchanted by the sounds of birds nearby and all the children at play and all the lifeguards reminding them to rein it in. By the end of August, I had achieved a beautiful deep, rich brown skin tone—completely sun kissed. This summer, I plan to do some lake swimming. I want to really give it a chance. I look forward to doing the work to acclimate. What was your last memorable animal encounter?
Well, right now, our miniature goldendoodle Jasper is snuggling next to me at my left; his older brother Ziggy (same parents, different litter), is snuggled up at my right. So, my last memorable animal encounter is happening right now. And, not long ago, Ziggy and Jasper and I were walking in a park near our house. As we entered a small wooded area, we happened upon two coyotes. We all stared at each other. Do you have any unusual hobbies, hidden talents, or superpowers you’d like to share?
I’m freakishly good at grabbing the precise number of things I need. Each morning, after I “long walk” Ziggy and Jasper, I grab ten doggy treats for them, five for each good boy. I’m very good at putting my hand into the bag and grabbing exactly ten treats. I’m also skilled at shaking out fourteen of a particular medication when I reload my pill sorter each week. My hand counts quickly, instinctively, precisely—it usually knows ten. It often knows twelve. It can select seven if you’d like. If you could, regardless of the local climate, reach out of your kitchen window and pluck a fruit from a tree, bush, or plant, what would it be?
Bing cherries. Bing cherries on demand. Yes, that would be great. Who do I see about this? If you could make pancakes with anyone, living or dead, who would it be?
Bisa Butler . I would have to work very hard not to beg for one of her masterpieces. It could be something very small, Bisa, or very big; I’m not picky. What are some of your favorite words?
I like how words that aren’t actually onomatopoeia become kind of like onomatopoeia because they’re so connected to what they describe, words like “acid” and “euphoric” and “tangible.” Or am I the only one who feels that way about certain words? Who is a character from literature or film with whom you intensely identify?
Lately, I think I would choose Rodion Raskolnikov from Crime and Punishment . A complicated answer, perhaps. I don’t have any delusions of grandeur like he seemed to have. I would not commit his crime; there’s no way I would. But when I transgress others, when I get it wrong (which, of course, I do), external punishment seems almost beside the point. I am plagued by fear and guilt. I punish myself. There is something in the nature of these times that leaves me perplexed by people who seem not to have an internal sense of morality or obligation, by people who don’t appear to have a self-sanctioning mechanism that affects them when they hurt others. If I did some of the hurtful things people do, I know I would come undone fairly quickly. Like Raskolnikov, I know I would drive myself to madness, whether or not I was caught. What is something new you’ve done recently?
This is a bit vain and self-concerned, but I’ve stopped cutting my hair and my beard. I look like a guy trying to look like a guy who is a humanities professor. I look like a guy who isn’t a public intellectual, but wants people to think he could be. I look like a grown adult with a mother who is telling people “it’s a phase” or “he’s only doing it to get a rise out of me” or “once the teasing begins in earnest, he’ll beg for a haircut.” Let’s see how long I can stand it. What’s the wildest thing you’ve witnessed or experienced in nature?
Years ago, up in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness, very early one chilly morning, I stood across a placid lake from a juvenile bull moose. We were separated by maybe 30 yards. It was autumn; he was young still but absolutely massive. I’d never seen one before, and I had no clue how big they were. He snorted at me and looked at the lake as if choosing his path of attack. I remember thinking “okay, what would I do if he did?” I was completely terrified. For some reason, he seemed to think better of it. I felt like I watched him change his mind and decide to leave me be. It’s late afternoon on a summer Saturday, you’re sitting with your feet in a cool creek and someone hands you the perfect beverage. What is it?
You know what? Although I love a sidecar on a summer Saturday afternoon, although I like wine pretty much any time, I’m really getting into those zero-alcohol beers lately. Quite cold, please; probably best to keep a cooler nearby. Are you optimistic about the future?
Look, we’re really going through it right now. Things are bad, and they’re going to get worse. I am 100 percent convinced things will get worse. But I am optimistic. It’s in my nature. I think I have to be, but I also choose to be. I do. There is so much suffering in the world. There always has been. Some human beings are oriented in ways that allow them to cause and tolerate great suffering in others. I often think it’s how some people respond to trauma or existential dread. These are dark times here and elsewhere, but darkness includes many possibilities, including enlightenment, including chances to do good work, to be useful. What is a smell that makes you stop in your tracks?
Pretty much any kind of cookie baking in an oven. Do you have a writing/art-making routine?
I have this idea that 90 percent of the work of the writer is off the page. My art-making routine is rooted in curiosity, captivation, contemplation, and conversation. I like to read too. My favorite part of my routine is trying to stay open—to questions, to inspiration, to ideas. I also try to have fun before doing anything serious. When I sit at my writing desk, I like to play a bit first. When it’s time to write “for real”, I like to stay as open to whatever might show up as I was when I was goofing around. Which of your book subjects or characters haunts you the most?
None of my books. None of my subjects. I’m haunted by my errors. Sometimes, it’s something small, a nonsensical line break. Sometimes, I look back and feel I didn’t get the thinking right. I’m really haunted by that. When you walk into a bookstore, where do you head first?
If it’s one of my usual haunts, I know exactly where to go for the book I’m there to get. After getting that book, I know exactly which shelves and displays I’ll check to see what’s new and exciting. I even know which booksellers have the best recommendations. If it’s a bookstore that’s new to me, I almost always go to the poetry section first. You could see this as being about my love of poetry, but, I’m actually sizing the place up in a somewhat judgy way. Where did you grow up?
Kansas—the Great Plains—the landscape that will always feel the most like home to me. There is so much sky in Kansas. When I was born, we lived in a hilly part of Kansas City, though. Hills and houses. Then, we settled in a flat, open part of the state—the very northeast corner of Wichita. Our house was quite close to the city limit, and a short BMX bike ride away from gravel roads and family farms that, even then, seemed like they would someday succumb to urbanization. Are you the same person you were as a child?
Quite so. I’m not nearly as good at chess. On the all-too-rare occasions when I play my cello, my fingers are not as nimble as they once were, my bow work wants work (but I enjoy playing more). What else? My head is the same size, but my forehead is bigger. I’ve also noticed my muscles are softer, and I run a lot slower and not as long. Other than those few insignificant things, I am very much the same. What did an average Friday night look like for you as a teenager?
I pretended to drink alcohol at a party I went to with my brother and our friends, or my brother and I rented a VCR and some VHS movies from QuikTrip and had a few friends over, or we played spades or Atari games with our closest friends who lived next door, or I was at a motel somewhere, away from home for a debate tournament, getting ready for the Saturday rounds, studying my evidence cards and practicing my cross, not engaging in any tomfoolery whatsoever as far as you know. If you could live anywhere, where would it be?
I’m partial to Paris. I also like Banff and Flagstaff, Arizona, and Birmingham, Alabama. New Mexico seems like a move I could actually make. But I know I’d choose New York City—Hamilton Heights or Manhattanville. I would not turn down a little cutie on Riverside Drive. My only ask is that I maintain my current standard of living. Mainly, I have to have my own washer and dryer, and they must be in my home, not down the street or anything like that. You’re in a deserted island situation for an unknown period of time. You get three items and one book. What do you bring?
Three conversation partners, all highly skilled in survival arts. (Wait though, maybe that would be unkind to them). The book? That’s easy: Moby Dick . What would you like to be most remembered for?
My heroic endurance and survival that one time when I was deserted on an island for an unknown period of time. I kid. I kid. I would like to be remembered for my effort(s). What flower would you want pinned to your breast after you die?
A peony, covered in busy ants, about to spring open. If you could come back as any organism, who or what would you be?
This is easy too. Many of my friends could answer this for me. I actually manifest this. Sometimes, I say to the divine “on my next lap, if it’s okay, if you don’t have other plans for me, if you don’t mind too much, and if it’s no burden or anything, please can I be a capybara ?”
CONTINUE READING
Any lovely thing made by a person who is beloved to me: SH’s pasta dish, MDW’s Indian dishes (even his okra), anything made by DH arrayed at a table she’s set just so, any meal made by my twin brother Martin, especially if I get to watch him work. What is a species you feel is frequently misunderstood?
It’s sloths. Hear me out. Like our planet, sloths are actually moving extremely fast all the time, so fast that it seems like they’re not moving at all. We are wrong about sloths; they’re quick and fast. Science will prove this one day. Watch and see. In what environment do you feel most at home?
In water, swimming. I wish I could say “swimming in a lake or a sea”, but, at the moment, I prefer to swim in pools. This is about many things: comfort, familiarity, predictability, comfort, sight, smell, temperature, comfort, locker rooms and showers and so on, but I haven’t yet achieved ease in open water. I’m always worried about some possibility I can’t see but I know is there. I’m going to work through that though. My favorite tree in the world is _____.
I try not to grow too attached to things that I may someday have to leave, but, even with that protective instinct trying to keep me all chill and detached, I am obsessively fond of the pagoda dogwood in our small, urban backyard. It has framed so many of my days and seasons for so many years now. Our relationship feels like an extended conversation between friends—personal in that way. Nature would be better without _____.
This is an impossible question, and I think I’m meant to be smart and sincere here. I think I’m meant to say something like microplastics or forever chemicals, because, yeah, nature would be better without those. But I won’t. I’ll embrace the implied challenge. I’ll choose among flora and fauna and people. Okay, here it is: snakes gotta go. St. Patrick was right about this. All snakes are hereby banished. Sorry, not sorry. What is something you’re looking forward to?
The outdoor swim season. After years of swimming only indoors, I swam outdoors last summer at an Olympic-distance pool not too far from my house, and I fell in love again with swimming in the wind with sunlight and clouds overhead, watching my shadow all sleek and wavy on the pool’s bottom. I was enchanted by the sounds of birds nearby and all the children at play and all the lifeguards reminding them to rein it in. By the end of August, I had achieved a beautiful deep, rich brown skin tone—completely sun kissed. This summer, I plan to do some lake swimming. I want to really give it a chance. I look forward to doing the work to acclimate. What was your last memorable animal encounter?
Well, right now, our miniature goldendoodle Jasper is snuggling next to me at my left; his older brother Ziggy (same parents, different litter), is snuggled up at my right. So, my last memorable animal encounter is happening right now. And, not long ago, Ziggy and Jasper and I were walking in a park near our house. As we entered a small wooded area, we happened upon two coyotes. We all stared at each other. Do you have any unusual hobbies, hidden talents, or superpowers you’d like to share?
I’m freakishly good at grabbing the precise number of things I need. Each morning, after I “long walk” Ziggy and Jasper, I grab ten doggy treats for them, five for each good boy. I’m very good at putting my hand into the bag and grabbing exactly ten treats. I’m also skilled at shaking out fourteen of a particular medication when I reload my pill sorter each week. My hand counts quickly, instinctively, precisely—it usually knows ten. It often knows twelve. It can select seven if you’d like. If you could, regardless of the local climate, reach out of your kitchen window and pluck a fruit from a tree, bush, or plant, what would it be?
Bing cherries. Bing cherries on demand. Yes, that would be great. Who do I see about this? If you could make pancakes with anyone, living or dead, who would it be?
Bisa Butler . I would have to work very hard not to beg for one of her masterpieces. It could be something very small, Bisa, or very big; I’m not picky. What are some of your favorite words?
I like how words that aren’t actually onomatopoeia become kind of like onomatopoeia because they’re so connected to what they describe, words like “acid” and “euphoric” and “tangible.” Or am I the only one who feels that way about certain words? Who is a character from literature or film with whom you intensely identify?
Lately, I think I would choose Rodion Raskolnikov from Crime and Punishment . A complicated answer, perhaps. I don’t have any delusions of grandeur like he seemed to have. I would not commit his crime; there’s no way I would. But when I transgress others, when I get it wrong (which, of course, I do), external punishment seems almost beside the point. I am plagued by fear and guilt. I punish myself. There is something in the nature of these times that leaves me perplexed by people who seem not to have an internal sense of morality or obligation, by people who don’t appear to have a self-sanctioning mechanism that affects them when they hurt others. If I did some of the hurtful things people do, I know I would come undone fairly quickly. Like Raskolnikov, I know I would drive myself to madness, whether or not I was caught. What is something new you’ve done recently?
This is a bit vain and self-concerned, but I’ve stopped cutting my hair and my beard. I look like a guy trying to look like a guy who is a humanities professor. I look like a guy who isn’t a public intellectual, but wants people to think he could be. I look like a grown adult with a mother who is telling people “it’s a phase” or “he’s only doing it to get a rise out of me” or “once the teasing begins in earnest, he’ll beg for a haircut.” Let’s see how long I can stand it. What’s the wildest thing you’ve witnessed or experienced in nature?
Years ago, up in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness, very early one chilly morning, I stood across a placid lake from a juvenile bull moose. We were separated by maybe 30 yards. It was autumn; he was young still but absolutely massive. I’d never seen one before, and I had no clue how big they were. He snorted at me and looked at the lake as if choosing his path of attack. I remember thinking “okay, what would I do if he did?” I was completely terrified. For some reason, he seemed to think better of it. I felt like I watched him change his mind and decide to leave me be. It’s late afternoon on a summer Saturday, you’re sitting with your feet in a cool creek and someone hands you the perfect beverage. What is it?
You know what? Although I love a sidecar on a summer Saturday afternoon, although I like wine pretty much any time, I’m really getting into those zero-alcohol beers lately. Quite cold, please; probably best to keep a cooler nearby. Are you optimistic about the future?
Look, we’re really going through it right now. Things are bad, and they’re going to get worse. I am 100 percent convinced things will get worse. But I am optimistic. It’s in my nature. I think I have to be, but I also choose to be. I do. There is so much suffering in the world. There always has been. Some human beings are oriented in ways that allow them to cause and tolerate great suffering in others. I often think it’s how some people respond to trauma or existential dread. These are dark times here and elsewhere, but darkness includes many possibilities, including enlightenment, including chances to do good work, to be useful. What is a smell that makes you stop in your tracks?
Pretty much any kind of cookie baking in an oven. Do you have a writing/art-making routine?
I have this idea that 90 percent of the work of the writer is off the page. My art-making routine is rooted in curiosity, captivation, contemplation, and conversation. I like to read too. My favorite part of my routine is trying to stay open—to questions, to inspiration, to ideas. I also try to have fun before doing anything serious. When I sit at my writing desk, I like to play a bit first. When it’s time to write “for real”, I like to stay as open to whatever might show up as I was when I was goofing around. Which of your book subjects or characters haunts you the most?
None of my books. None of my subjects. I’m haunted by my errors. Sometimes, it’s something small, a nonsensical line break. Sometimes, I look back and feel I didn’t get the thinking right. I’m really haunted by that. When you walk into a bookstore, where do you head first?
If it’s one of my usual haunts, I know exactly where to go for the book I’m there to get. After getting that book, I know exactly which shelves and displays I’ll check to see what’s new and exciting. I even know which booksellers have the best recommendations. If it’s a bookstore that’s new to me, I almost always go to the poetry section first. You could see this as being about my love of poetry, but, I’m actually sizing the place up in a somewhat judgy way. Where did you grow up?
Kansas—the Great Plains—the landscape that will always feel the most like home to me. There is so much sky in Kansas. When I was born, we lived in a hilly part of Kansas City, though. Hills and houses. Then, we settled in a flat, open part of the state—the very northeast corner of Wichita. Our house was quite close to the city limit, and a short BMX bike ride away from gravel roads and family farms that, even then, seemed like they would someday succumb to urbanization. Are you the same person you were as a child?
Quite so. I’m not nearly as good at chess. On the all-too-rare occasions when I play my cello, my fingers are not as nimble as they once were, my bow work wants work (but I enjoy playing more). What else? My head is the same size, but my forehead is bigger. I’ve also noticed my muscles are softer, and I run a lot slower and not as long. Other than those few insignificant things, I am very much the same. What did an average Friday night look like for you as a teenager?
I pretended to drink alcohol at a party I went to with my brother and our friends, or my brother and I rented a VCR and some VHS movies from QuikTrip and had a few friends over, or we played spades or Atari games with our closest friends who lived next door, or I was at a motel somewhere, away from home for a debate tournament, getting ready for the Saturday rounds, studying my evidence cards and practicing my cross, not engaging in any tomfoolery whatsoever as far as you know. If you could live anywhere, where would it be?
I’m partial to Paris. I also like Banff and Flagstaff, Arizona, and Birmingham, Alabama. New Mexico seems like a move I could actually make. But I know I’d choose New York City—Hamilton Heights or Manhattanville. I would not turn down a little cutie on Riverside Drive. My only ask is that I maintain my current standard of living. Mainly, I have to have my own washer and dryer, and they must be in my home, not down the street or anything like that. You’re in a deserted island situation for an unknown period of time. You get three items and one book. What do you bring?
Three conversation partners, all highly skilled in survival arts. (Wait though, maybe that would be unkind to them). The book? That’s easy: Moby Dick . What would you like to be most remembered for?
My heroic endurance and survival that one time when I was deserted on an island for an unknown period of time. I kid. I kid. I would like to be remembered for my effort(s). What flower would you want pinned to your breast after you die?
A peony, covered in busy ants, about to spring open. If you could come back as any organism, who or what would you be?
This is easy too. Many of my friends could answer this for me. I actually manifest this. Sometimes, I say to the divine “on my next lap, if it’s okay, if you don’t have other plans for me, if you don’t mind too much, and if it’s no burden or anything, please can I be a capybara ?”
