Author Archives: John Swinburn

I’m taking an earlier-than-halftime- break from watching an FX film that, so far, exceeds my expectations. I started watching it because I relate to its title: “I Don’t Feel at Home in This World Anymore.” Yes, I realize that says … Continue reading →

Crushed emotions, spilling out in tears, flood an embrace as if interlocked arms were a dam and the space between two people were a reservoir. When the dam bursts, a lifetime of regret will flow like a river, drowning everyone … Continue reading →

I’ve stipulated it in my will. I have completed and filed my medical directives. I’ve done what I have been advised to do to tell my family and the medical professionals who might be present in what could be my … Continue reading →

A few days ago, as my wife and I were out doing a long list of errands, a thought entered my mind from nowhere. And I spoke about it to my wife. “Nobody seems to talk about hydrophobia anymore. I … Continue reading →

Sultry spring shrinks in horror as the glacial scream of dying winter rings in our frigid ears. The cerulean heavens rage with cold stillness in the brittle morning air. Even the certainty of summer becomes dubious in light of this brutal reminder that we … Continue reading →

It is, of course, too early for Spring to have arrived. But temperatures reminiscent of late Spring and even early Summer suggest a change of the season and trees have begun to blossom, yielding to the onslaught of unseasonal weather. Yet … Continue reading →

When I write, whether fiction or essay or poetry or memoir, my intent is to write honestly. The challenge to writing honestly is two-fold. First, writing honestly requires the writer to both know truth and how to tell it and, second, the … Continue reading →

I’ve reflected on a number of things during these last few days, not the least of which is my legacy, or lack thereof. People with children might consider their children their legacy, but I have no children. People who build … Continue reading →

Emptiness is palpable. Its evidence inhabits every crack and crevice, every nick in an otherwise smooth surface. Negative space is the phrase artists use to describe the way space around or between objects define them and render them in multiple perspectives. … Continue reading →

Last night, I indulged my newly-acquired affinity for Dutch crime dramas by watching the second component of the Department Q trilogy. Last evening’s treasure was entitled Department Q: The Absent Ones. Like the first in the series, the troubled and troublesome detective … Continue reading →

I spent a good three hours blowing leaves again today. Well, much of the time was not spent blowing leaves but, instead, extracting the leaf blower’s extension cord from beneath boulders. I would not be surprised to discover my time … Continue reading →