Idling Insignifcantly
playing a mayor on T
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Memory Tape
When I was a kid, my sister and I raided the remains of my parent's once lavish record collection. My dad’s records had his name written on them, although sometimes they were crossed off and rewritten by his brother in a bout of playful sibling thievery. His
Solve for work
There is no written word without a weary hand wielding the pen.
Any light in any storm
The veneer of visibility as a performance is nice, and it is also nothing.
Bitter Melodies, Turning Your Orbit Around
My first coffee was poured from the spout of a steel urn into a styrofoam cup, the kind that squeaks and crunches in your hand when you touch it that I’m certain was a little toxic.