Jeff Weiss

The odometer broke, thousands of miles and a lifetime removed from the all-night neon hustle of Times Square and the evergreen Zen of the northern Cascades, the pagan thunderclap poetry of the Big Sur coastline and the redbrick sadness of smokestack Lowell. In his final sighs, Jack Kerouac found … Continue Reading

The sirens are off, but the silence is plenty ominous. Only a few seconds separate the moment when the Hemet police car bends the corner from when the cops bounce out of the late-model SUV to start lumbering in our direction. No time to do anything but react. Until now, it has been an almost … Continue Reading

About an hour before the sun starts to abandon this wild expanse of the high desert, the owner of the six-acre homestead that I’m renting for the weekend issues a dire warning:  “Be careful of the energy vortexes around here. They reflect back at you,” he says, picking up a shard of broken glass … Continue Reading