“I remember disjointed details. It was winter, and we’d agreed to meet at a pub called the Blind Pig. I was wearing a tweed coat that felt like armor and wondering why I’d decided to go out. When I walked inside, my glasses fogged in the boiler heat. I didn’t know if you’d be close to the door or somewhere in the inner shadows. Because I couldn’t see, I listened.  A collective murmur, the feeling of travel close to home.  After a time, I found you compressed into a booth and already holding a beer. You slid it across the table for me to taste, and I touched the sweating glass. I didn’t know what to talk about. I’d never dated a scientist before.  Once I saw a study about how cheese contains opiates. Afterward, every time I ate cheese, I wondered, “Is this addictive?” Before I met you, I thought science was about those kinds of facts.  But you said you studied memory.”   Read the complete essay (coauthored with Dr. Patrick D. Watson) here…

The Half-Sacred Disease

 “I remember disjointed details. It was winter, and we’d agreed to meet at a pub called the Blind Pig. I was wearing a tweed coat that felt like armor and wondering why I’d decided to go out. When I walked inside, my glasses fogged in the boiler heat. I didn’t know if you’d be close to the door or somewhere in the inner shadows. Because I couldn’t see, I listened.  A collective murmur, the feeling of travel close to home.  After a time, I found you compressed into a booth and already holding a beer. You slid it across the table for me to taste, and I touched the sweating glass. I didn’t know what to talk about. I’d never dated a scientist before.  Once I saw a study about how cheese contains opiates. Afterward, every time I ate cheese, I wondered, “Is this addictive?” Before I met you, I thought science was about those kinds of facts.  But you said you studied memory.”   Read the complete essay (coauthored with Dr. Patrick D. Watson) here…

“I remember disjointed details. It was winter, and we’d agreed to meet at a pub called the Blind Pig. I was wearing a tweed coat that felt like armor and wondering why I’d decided to go out. When I walked inside, my glasses fogged in the boiler heat. I didn’t know if you’d be close to the door or somewhere in the inner shadows. Because I couldn’t see, I listened.

A collective murmur, the feeling of travel close to home.

After a time, I found you compressed into a booth and already holding a beer. You slid it across the table for me to taste, and I touched the sweating glass. I didn’t know what to talk about. I’d never dated a scientist before.

Once I saw a study about how cheese contains opiates. Afterward, every time I ate cheese, I wondered, “Is this addictive?” Before I met you, I thought science was about those kinds of facts.

But you said you studied memory.”

Read the complete essay (coauthored with Dr. Patrick D. Watson) here…