The rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated

You know when you’re up against the ropes and you keep your hands by your head and take the hits while you catch your breath and wait for the other guy to make a mistake so you can lay him right on out?

Yeah, that.

But I’ll write soon, I promise.

In the meantime, you might appreciate my latest post for the Image Good Letters blog, “Sick Unto Life.” An excerpt:

“There is no high moral art at which I am skilled, and I am perhaps the most self-centered person I know, and so the best I can muster is some approximate imagination. I confess my first prayer, after hearing of the world-shaking earthquake, and the thirteen-foot high wave, and now the impending nuclear meltdown, was: Thank you sweet Christ that my babies are safe.