Remembering and not remembering.

The third-worst job I ever had involved a lot of dread. Dread and anxiety and pressure and deadness and agonizing wishing it would end. Maybe not as full-of-dread as the Moroccan mafia toy import company, and maybe not as full-of-deadness as the assembly line. But the...

International Borekas and Repression Day

Not feeling much like writing this morning. Yesterday I learned that my friend killed himself. So mostly what I’m feeling like is crying and staring at the wall. But at the same time needing to write something, because writing has been my comfort at so many...
The Fluent Self