Cautiously passing the time on a summer day, J.P. Devine observes others who are oblivious of the horrors of HORN.

Many characters come in and out of J.P.'s stories, and some of them are potent reminders of a past that remembers.

In these harsh days of the pandemic and other calamities, it's a tough job being an "intellectual who uses humor, or wit, in writing or public speaking," J.P. Devine says.

Family will soon be visiting the Devine household, bringing with them an eye for a presentable movie set, J.P. Devine says.

The fires of the past burn brightly as J.P. Devine reflects on the Supreme Court's landmark decision before the Fourth of July.

J.P. Devine says goodbye to New York City's last phone booth.

J.P. Devine imagines the most interesting people you could meet and question in the afterlife.

A long romance with bagels slipped away only to be rekindled again, J.P. Devine says.

From an old fountain to upgrades at a city park, Waterville may be doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results, J.P. Devine says.