Arcane Alcoholic, Infernal Intoxicologist, and Introverted Absintheur
Eight: The Breathing (1994-1999) The rivers were uncovered in the way that things are uncovered when someone finally admits they made a mistake. I was there when they opened the first section of the...
Seven: The Forgetting (1980-1993) The Industrial Trust Building went dark in 2013, which falls outside the boundaries of this entry, but I have been watching it go dark for considerably longer than that. A...
Six: The Arrangements (1961-1979) I have been putting off this entry for two months, which is longer than I have put off any of the others. August in Providence is not a month that...
Five: The Choking (1946-1960) They called it prosperity. I watched it arrive from the riverbank the way I watched most things arrive, quietly, from a distance, with the particular patience of someone who has...
Four: The Storm (1938-September) I have been sitting with this entry for several weeks, which is longer than I have sat with any of the others, and I think I understand why. The others...
Three: The Long War (1936-1945) There is a particular kind of human foolishness that repeats itself with such regularity that even I, who have had nearly two centuries to grow philosophical about it, find...
Two: The Settling (1930-1935) The first winter in Providence was the longest winter I have ever spent, and I have spent one hundred and sixty-two winters on this coastline so I want you to...
One: The Leaving (1928-1929) I have been putting off writing this first entry for some weeks now, which tells you something about my relationship with beginnings. I am considerably better with middles. I have...
Prologue: Providence I am writing this by hand, in the old way, with ink I make myself from the longfin squid that run through the upper bay in good numbers if you know where...
I hadn’t posted a new chapter in a while because my first draft was getting rediculously long. I actually had to end the initial book at an ending point that I thought was premature...
Link to all the chapters – click here The workshop smells of grease and ozone, the kind that clings to your skin long after you leave. Tools scatter across benches like forgotten soldiers. Marvin...
