looks fake today, like you could turn it off with a switch if only you could find it, but you can’t. You can’t find it.
Got a story published here at burnt bridges press. I was really excited and told everybody, but now I’m embarrassed. I’m embarrassed that I’m excited. Still, look.
School started this week. The class I teach is filled with women, which just means it will take me longer to learn their names. (I’m sexist like racist. 18 year old girls all look alike to me.)
Mostly I am exhausted and thrilled re: everything and seek others that feel similarly. Cursory look outside reveals somebody found that switch after all. The end.