Newsletter A vague feeling of guilt ties me to that dead man I know that I owe him reparations which he will never receive
Newsletter It will go away, we're rounding the corner, it's going away Like tiny seeds that might germinate again if the rain falls
Newsletter The Last Normal Day Parts 4 + 5 Like Birds on a Telephone Wire by Chris A. Smith + The Prosecution Doesn’t Rest by Shane Ferro
Newsletter You see again how far away every thing is from every other thing But death must come to them differently
Newsletter I’m going to work until I die, if I can, because I need the money You can hardly make it these days
Newsletter None of this is fascism by the way Everything that leads up to that point is basically fine
Newsletter Maybe it’s just a borrowed piece of someone else’s childhood It was an extraordinarily hot summer in New York City in 1880. The type of day “a salamander would find no fault with,” an extraordinarily purple but charming piece of prose in the New York Times on July 10th explained. “You might have boiled eggs in the fountains,” the journalist
Newsletter It was never my fortune to witness a more bloody, dismal battlefield A sensation of intense heat on the surface of the skin
Newsletter What I didn’t understand was how much it would cost to live With a college degree I thought you made enough to get by
