Mind Wanderings
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Echoes of the Past
By Joe Broadmeadow Somewhere in the last decade my dreams stopped running with visuals. The projector died and the audio kept running. Now I sleep inside a radio that only plays reruns. Nothing happens in them. There is no plot.…
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Ask Your Doctor If Xylophanz Is Right for You
By Joe Broadmeadow Somewhere in America, in a glass-walled conference room with a kombucha tap and a whiteboard nobody has fully erased since 2019,…
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ARGUS: The Eye in the Sky
Considering all the wailing and gnashing of teeth around the use of Flock cameras, both pro and con, I wondered if we had the perfect surveillance system if it would create a world worth living in. Let me know your…
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There Is a God; She Just Doesn’t Care About You
By Joe Broadmeadow Start with a concession because it makes the argument easier to follow. Suppose the Holy Grail of proof arrives tomorrow morning.…
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There Is a God; She Just Doesn’t Care About You
By Joe Broadmeadow Start with a concession because it makes the argument easier to follow. Suppose the Holy Grail of proof arrives tomorrow morning. Not a feeling. Not a sunset over the bay. Not a tumor gone quiet after a…
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The Four Ages of Conversation
Same friends. Same booth. Entirely different agenda. by Joe Broadmeadow Friendship does not change much over a lifetime. The conversation does. Seventeen Four of…
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The Four Ages of Conversation
Same friends. Same booth. Entirely different agenda. by Joe Broadmeadow Friendship does not change much over a lifetime. The conversation does. Seventeen Four of you sit in a car in a parking lot, going nowhere, for three hours. Nobody has…
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Is Crime a Consequence of Freedom?
by Joe Broadmeadow Every free society writes two documents at the same time. The first promises liberty. The second catalogs what you may not do with it. Convention treats the second as a repair of the first, a fence raised…
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Does a Bee Know the Summer Is Ending?
by Joe Broadmeadow There is a bee working the goldenrod at the edge of the wood, and she has no idea what month it is. She moves the way she moved in July, with the same blunt urgency, the same…
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I’ll Get You There
Joe Broadmeadow The bike came from a yard sale. Blue, with a dented fender and a horn. The boy squawked it so often his mother threatened to pry it off with a butter knife. His father just laughed. His father…