Can I tell you what I’m like? In the tales of the Arabian Nights we read about the Caliph Haroun al-Rashid, who loved to disguise himself in simple clothes and slip out of his palace. He would wander the night streets of Baghdad, unknown, to see what his people were…
I let K use my room, because it seemed like he was really in love with that girl. Where else was he going to take her—the boat? So I had to stay out all night while they were up there. I sat in the drugstore across the street and read…
I’m in jail, I said. I need you to send somebody to bail me out. If you can find somebody who’s savvy about ritual magic and necromancy and assassination, that would be best. If not—just somebody with money. It’s going to take a lot of money to get me out…
When John finally got his PhD I congratulated him and I meant it. John was wicked ADHD. Writing that thing had just about flattened him. I said: “Now what? Publish it?” John said: “No. It isn’t good enough to get published. Now it goes on a shelf in the library.…
—Excuse me, sir? said the bank teller. —I said, “Freeze,” said the old man, a little louder. The long creases beside his upper lip made him look very sad. One of his eyes was red and watering. He was pointing a pistol at her chest. The teller looked up. The…
I remember when Descartes lost his cell phone. He’d come up to visit me in Port Townsend, Washington, where I’d been living for a few years. Descartes liked the quiet of the town; he liked the spring rain, which was frankly driving me crazy after a long gloomy winter. He…