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- A boy, a girl, a big fat dead old lady
- A kiss may not be the truth, but it is what we wish were true
- anarchist army (idea)
- Be still, my soul, be still
- Beneath the shadows of buildings no longer tall
- Bexley vs. the FBI
- Bill Watterson
- Bring, in this timeless grave to throw
- Buddhist monks are sexy
- Calculus of variations
- Conan O'Brien's Commencement Speech for the Harvard Class of 2000
- Different reactions to the question, "What is Pi?" in southern California
- Do you remember how small your body was when you were five?
- From five to death and back
- Have you ever been so excited about your life that it makes you almost want to cry?
- He dreamt the sky bled greyblue and poetry
- Hello broken thing, may I sketch your smash pattern?
- Humorous Writings of E2
- I am an adventurer not by choice, but by fate
- I know this road pretty well, for I've chased many a honey-bee over it.
- I still don't even know you
- I will always be in the details
- Imagining you as a rewrite; as a scene revised
- Listen, we ended up ruined. I find my answers where I can.
- login
- Long after bedtime I will wake up and sit crosslegged watching you. It is your fault for having your face.
- Louis Slotin Sonata
- No one can be unhappy with a fresh box of crayons
- open book test (fiction)
- Other things nobody tells you about the south pole
- Parents who force their children to eat when they're not hungry
- Rambling incoherently while standing in a crowded mall (idea)
- She was an intellectual prostitute, seducing me with profound truisms
- Sometimes, when no one is looking, I am beautiful
- Speed chess, confessions of a positional player
- The boy with just a head and a burlap sack for a body
- the cool silence that inevitably follows the vanishing of aeroplanes
- The Dirac formalism of quantum mechanics
- The endless blue sky is not big enough to hold her memories, so it doesn't (person)
- The Story Continues with August Witt
- The terrible beauty of an industrial landscape at dawn (place)
- There are places in this world where mundane, forgotten things have learned to weave their own magic
- There is magic in this world
- There is perhaps a sky; that part is unclear
- Things nobody tells you about the south pole
- This is getting over you (personal)
- Throw me to the sky and let the clouds tear me up
- to eight minutes, forever lost
- we are shining, broken light across the cold earth
- We Grew With The Grass (poetry)
- we lose weeks like buttons, like pencils
- Welcome to Everything
- What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
- Why are you sad? (idea)
- You are not special. You will die here, too.
- you tell me i live in a malady called imagination and i only can laugh
- Your picture has spoken a thousand words and now it won't shut up