Fresh off reading Lord of the World, I have found myself in an apocalyptic frame of mind, interested in literature that looks into questions of lost faith and the manifestation of the diabolical. At the recommendation of a friend, I read J.-K. Huysmans's Là-Bas, and found it to be both appalling and fascinating.

Here's my article on Aleteia.

I now find myself in a group of friends who are interested in discussing decadent literature in the context of our common faith, focusing particularly on how our faith influences our aesthetics and our views of eros, love, art, and relationships. I'll write more about that as things unfold.

For now, enjoy the article.

Late last month, one of my favorite indie rockers, Britta Phillips released her solo debut album. Here's my review from Aleteia.

Here's my latest at Aleteia, in which I recommend reading poetry aloud as a way to come to enjoy reading verse.

Additionally, here's a video of me reading Edna St. Vincent Millay's Love Is Not All.

I'm creating my own subgenre of criticism, namely encouraging people to read Lord of the World.

Here's my piece on Aleteia.

"Some guys, they don't need to go through all the shit we've been through in order to believe," he said, "but guys like us, we're always putting our hand in His side to see if it's all real."

He's an old friend of mine whom I met many years ago, when we were setting out coffee and cookies together in a meeting on Manhattan's Upper West Side. We bonded over being Catholic, over struggling over our appetites, mine for alcohol and his for heroin; he introduced me to the writings of G.K.
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Christ is risen, alleluia!

Each year it seems that Easter becomes more and more joyous for me: perhaps the mystery of Lent, and Holy Week, and the Paschal Triduum become more and more meaningful the more I experience the ups and downs of life.

Holy Week is a time of rich meditation and preparation, and so with it, for me comes a silence, so this is merely a quick post of impressions loosely cobbled.

- Palm Sunday: the Passion is a swirl of activity; when you read the gospels there are throughout episodes of Jesus interacting with large crowds and with small groups of disciples or with individuals,  but all of this culminates in the broad, sweeping drama of the Passion narratives.

I have a book review of a recently issued new edition of Lord of the World over at Dappled Things.

A radical encounter with the Cross refutes Mick Jagger’s argument in favor of a heart of stone. The thing Mick doesn’t let on is that the heart of stone, though impervious to injury from outside, builds up an explosive amount of grief and anguish from within. Give it a couple decades and you’ll discover that hard peach pit in the core of your being has become a grenade, volatile and ready to fragment when you least expect.

My aunt lent me one of her Rolling Stones records when I was about 13 years old; I had grown up with “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” and “Paint It Black” and “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” but the early stuff I hadn’t encountered until that time.
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