Mindblown: a blog about philosophy.
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Old Music Remembered
Juteau is tracing power lines with her fingers as we lay together in the grass by the old school near the airport. Her hands dance in the air, sliding this way, crossing over that, like she is conducting an orchestra of electricity. She hums a tune as she goes, something I can almost place, but…
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Tea Leaves and Cloudbursts
Two minutes ago, she was wearing a white slip, standing in front of the window while the morning light sneaked in around the shades and swirled around her like smoke. The way the shadows moved across her hips and her belly made me want to put my face against her stomach, in hopes that they…
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Lost and Found
Bez sits in the dirt and gravel with her back against the rusted iron post that pokes like a metal finger out of the ground in front of the old tackle shop. She takes her sketchbook and pencils out of her bag and opens to a blank page, while I poke around the building itself.…
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Audience
The zipper of the dress is down, exposing Bez from the nape of her neck down to the small of her back. Her skin is pale, caressed by the winter light coming through the window, and I think for a moment of going to put my hand against her, to feel the bones just below…
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Mercy
It was her lips that brought Mercy’s attention to focus: how red more than red, plump and liquid in the light of the kitchen’s fluorescent, a swath of scarlet across her pale, pale skin. Julia was everything that Mercy was not: smooth where she was rough, light where Mercy was dark. “Read my tea leaves,”…
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Glass Anna
What was on the other side of the mirror, that’s what Anna wanted to know. It had to be something, not just her own reflection looking back at her. When she moved her hand in front of the glass, didn’t the Anna in the mirror move just a tiny bit later, with a gesture just…
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Réalité et Printemps
She walks down the forest path, like a lost girl in a fairytale, ivy and feathers forming a ragged crown in her hair. Yesterday, she was making tea in a kitchen in Paris, and then without even having to click her heels together, today she finds herself moving like a ghost between ash-colored trees. She…
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Lilac
“I don’t feel lonely when I look at the sea,” Finch says. She shades her eyes with her hand and looks out over the Pacific. “I think about all the people who have sailed on it, all the places they’ve seen, and that fills me up.” “The seas are rising,” I say. “They’re going to…
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Two things of note, for those of you playing along at home. Firstly, I’ve got a story in a new collection that’s just been released, a Halloween treat: My story is one I’ve previously released, Unseen, but it’s a comfortable fit in there with the rest of the spookiness that is collected inside. It’s fun…
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Frames
Bez watches me from the pillow next to mine, all freckles and burgundy hair and lips which taste like a cool autumn night. There is a stray eyelash on her cheek, and I wet my finger with the tip of my tongue before touching it against her skin. The eyelash comes away with my finger.…
Got any book recommendations?