Michael Julius
Michael Julius
Michael Julius
My name is Michael. I am father of two, writing to you from the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont. By trade, I am a Registered Nurse. I work in the Emergency Department of our local twenty-five bed critical access hospital. It's charming: on a hill and everywhere is forest.
Latest Posts
Somebody at one of these places [...] asked me: 'What do you do? How do you write, create?' You don't, I told them. You don't try. That's very important: not to try, either for Cadillacs, creation or immortality. You wait, and if nothing...
“You write like you talk.” And that made me very happy because there’s no better feedback than being told that you are you. And that your voice will outlive you. And that writing, which you continue to struggle with, has gone from...
My best response to the “horde of agents colonizing our brains” is: Be as weird as possible. One way to do this: take the Venn diagram of your lived experiences and what’s been talked about in the world. Now focus on the part of your...
(to remind myself) By Wendell Berry August 5, 1934 – August 31, 2026 i Make a place to sit down. Sit down. Be quiet. You must depend upon affection, reading, knowledge, skill—more of each than you have—inspiration, work, growing older,...
That’s not the way your mind works: Overtime like sharp light defines. Devine.
Somewhere else, horses run towards horizons. in lockstep gallop honed like things I did or use to do or never did.
Once upon a time, on a train in Spain, a man peered across the carriage and saw none-other than Pablo Picasso himself. Mustering his courage, he approached the debauched artist, “Pablo, why does everything you paint look so strange?...
To have told my 30-year-old, 40-year-old, 50-year-old self that my artistic output wasn't the fundamental and most valuable aspect of my life, I would have thought you didn't understand. These days I don't feel that way. That's not to...
The branches of that tree are cut in such a way as to reveal a ladder all the way to the top. Where there should be a door locked tight. Sealed. against the sky. If you were inclined to see this portal so high up and then forced your way...
TV 2009
As for the unknown/unknowable, I think it’s all those other selves within us that are both a part of and separate from our conscious selves—memory, dream, demons perhaps better left undisturbed, perhaps not. A poet writes about any...
Boston Logan Airport, en route to Dublin 2017
What’s with thinking inside hollow grams. Home to hem lock, twine and token.
You should be so bold as she Who made so much money. Amazing, you say to the trees On which cash should be plucked Like so many potatoes, weighing The longest branches low.
Recent photos of the progress on our new emergency department, now just weeks away..