Tag Archives: Writing

The first thing I said this morning was “fuck you” to my alarm clock. It’s the kind of day when inanimate objects aren’t even safe from the scope of condemnation. But it might also be the kind of day when moods burn off like fog—I only need to find the sun.    There’s nothing wrong, really,Continue reading “august 27, 2024 – performative journaling at the End of the world”