New Short Story(?): “Santaology”


The jolly is out there.

Merry Christmas, all! Or at least the season thereof! The snow shows no signs of stopping up here in Buffalo, NY, but the warm glow of a computer monitor is comfort enough to keep me going against the cold of wintertime.
With this optimism in mind, I present to you… well, not a story, per se. Think of it more as helpful information from a world more magical than ours, yet less nonchalant than the one which always seems to exist in movies where adults don’t believe in Santa despite him actually existing. I actually started writing this for last Christmas, but when I realized I wasn’t going to finish it in time, I thought it better to sit on it for a year. And now, as it blessedly always does, the time has come again!
So enjoy this segment from a popular magazine, Modern Science, as its regular column “Playing the Fields,” devoted to educating readers on lesser-known areas of scientific study, dives into the critical field of…
Above “original” image credit: this guy.

VLOGGIN’ IN: “Justice League” Spoiler-Free Thoughts + Review

So, for a long time, I’ve been wanting to try vlogging, or at least talking about pop culture I’ve recently digested in front of a camera.  And at last, I found the ideal opportunity, or at least one that lined up with me finally getting around to buying Adobe Premiere! (Elements, but still)

Thus, I decided to serve my very first movie review/thoughts video with a slice of low-hanging fruit: this holiday season’s Justice League, directed by Zack Snyder and/or Joss Whedon.  Enjoy!

New *Paper*: I wrote about AI for Oxford!


Thinking himself to pieces, it would seem.

Happy October! The sun is shining, the leaves are falling, and the skeleton army is preparing to march through a neighborhood near you. In the meantime, assorted work/life strife has admittedly left me in a creative fallow period (though new stories are definitely underway). Yet here’s something different: an academic paper!

Not as exciting, I know, but get this: the other year, I drew upon my experience with both law school and worrying about killer robots to write with Dr. Seth Baum of the Global Catastrophic Risk Institute on how to assign liability for the wrongs/crimes of robots and artificial intelligence.

It took a while, but the most prominent of these pieces is finally out in print — published by Oxford University Press, no less!


It’s only like 14 pages long, and there’s pieces by other fine scholars in the same book. So give it a look-see in print or eBook form here on Amazon!

New Short Story: “Day Job”


Waiting for the moment.


Happy Summer, all!

To beat the heat, I decided to knuckle down with the AC on and finish a story I’ve been kicking around for a few months. It’s a brief bit of a contradiction: realistic, yet outlandish; a joke, yet serious; autobiographical, yet anything but.

In any event, I had fun teasing it out, and I hope you do as well! So grab a coffee, get a seat with a good view of your surroundings, and swipe right to hear about a city kid’s trouble with balancing his passion for writing and his, well…

Day Job

The Top 7 Micro-Creepypastas – Part III

Welcome to the third compilation video of me reading some of my all-time favorite short creepypastas!

1) “Peripheral Vision”
2) “Food”
3) “Heavy Sleeper”
4) “’Other’ Channels”
5) “Breath”
7) “Growths”

Last I checked, stories can be found here. No clue who originally wrote these, but if said individuals are concerned about this video, just say the word.

All photography by me! See more on my Instagram at TNW24.

#tbt Poem: “Buffalone”


In the Dark Times, before the media shelves went up.

So as of today-ish, I’ve officially been living in Buffalo, New York for one year! It’s been 365 days of amazing ups (passing the bar exam, killer local punk-rock shows, farmers’ markets), distressing downs (studying for the bar exam, brutal snowstorms, the occasional house centipede), and cool, even valleys of well-earned Netflix/gaming binges.

Still, rewind to June 2016, and — as the brain is wont to do when faced with change — I fretted deeply on the daily. What would my first “real” job and most independent living to date mean for my future? Stuck in a private, bittersweet rapture at the sight of my new surroundings, I wrote the following poem and… just kind of left it there. I was self-conscious about how, well, self-conscious it made me sound, and thought I should wait until I could establish some distance between two versions of myself before sharing it.

Now? I can say upon reflection that things have gone pretty solid overall. I have a well-paying job that I’m getting better at every day, plenty of free time in the evenings (so far), and — most critically — one heck of an apartment. Not a day goes by that I don’t reflect on what a privilege all of this is, and I pray to never take it for granted. Am I perpetually happy? And do I know for certain what any of this still means for my future? Of course not. But I feel more centered amidst the world’s noise and haste, and that counts for something.

Still, it’s hard to not occasionally look back on a time when I felt more…



So, this is it.

The new apartment.


An expanse of wood,

slats creaking ‘round curious nails,

greets me on entry.

Brazilian vents slither beneath

vertigo inverted: a ceiling high and white,

dissected by track lights and slender pipes.

Hints of cracks scatter the plaster,

crow’s feet to corners.

Windows, triplets, stand up and stretch

for a view of City Hall, the corner mall, the convention center

(For summer, my electric bill will be thankful).

One bathroom. Two bedrooms. Laundry on-site.


And unfurnished.

So first in line: Interior design.

And it’s then I find

the necessity of choice—

a theme of shades and shapes

to impress is an adulthood to-do.


In the lavish labyrinth of Raymour & Flanigan’s, I nod and bob

on aching legs as Dad and I shop.

Too cheap. Too expensive.

Too fancy. Too brown.

Too Stepford Wives-y.

Twin lamps. Table. Desk. Chest of drawers.

The haul, four-thousand-odd bucks in all,

I’ll pay back by year’s end

with the new firm job, fingers crossed.


Chrome and monochrome works,

I guess.

Converted factory aesthetic, and all that.

What do I know?

I’ve never run real estate,

and the most I ever decorated was a Halloween party

(and plastic bats and cotton cobwebs don’t dazzle partners).


The movers arrive a few days later.

Tearing tape, peeling plastic, and crackling cardboard peal across the room.

Styrofoam dandruff salts the floor, swept in static whorls,

one with the dust. I

set up, set out. Sit down,

and think


surely this is all I ever wanted

in a postgrad pad: glass and glimmer,

a kitchen with an echo.

A bowlful of fat apples to spruce up the tabletop.

Golden sheets, a Midas touch of class

for a brick headboard.

An Instagram preview, and the Likes rise,

a bubbling brook of Hearts and Thumbs-Up.

So I must be doing something right.


And yet it feels conditioned, controlled by permission.

Ex post fashion, rationalized style

from father to son.

A painting, ribbed strokes imitating Paris by twilight,

leans beneath the thermostat,

as I wait to hear if I can even hang it—

spruce first, ask questions later.

An area rug will come, no idea what kind.

But That’s What You Do when you’ll make a hundred K a year.


Maybe it’ll grow on me.

This fixer-upper metropolis,

this iron and stone sieve between glitz and ghetto.

Maybe the construction noise and concert clamor

will fade to white with the rest of the world, come December.

Until then, cigarette butts caulk the blocks

of piss-scented bus stops and paper tumbleweeds

under the Liberty Building’s warm shadow.

Destitute droves roam parallel to the metro line,

homeless or hopeless.

Gleaming domes and Christian spires paint a postcard-ready skyline

but, just blocks out, knee-length weeds occupy sidewalks

and wooden barriers shield alleys from driving eyes.

My hometown’s grass seems greener already.


In a moment of brutal dishonesty, I said

I’d take poverty and popularity

over opulent obscurity;

live on beans and black-and-white TV

for a chance at a fan letter.

So, solo, now’s my chance

to call my bluff,

in this bastion of a town past its prime,

grimy, beaten by the northern winds and the Great Recession.

My first impression is depression, but that always happens

when you push too hard.

So until I can ease up, I’ll keep my mind open

as those windows, and let the light in

until the sun sets

or the blinds break.

The Top 7 Micro-Creepypastas – Part II

Felt myself in more of a reading than a writing mood as of late, so I decided to follow up my previous narration video with a sequel! If you’re like me and enjoy short scary stories, check it out — and be sure to like and subscribe!

1) “The Portraits”
2) “The Voice”
3) “The Third Wish”
4) “The Believers”
5) “Not a Psychopath”
6) “Data Fragments”
7) “Always With You”

Some of the stories can be found here at

As always, no clue who originally wrote them or the others, but if said individuals are concerned about this video, just say the word.

All photography by me! See more at: