It’s happening. I’m going to SOAK. The last preparations are being made. Last deliveries are arriving at my door as I type, and I am raring to perform a trial run on how I am going to fit all the camping supplies into my car.
It’s happening. I’m going to SOAK. The last preparations are being made. Last deliveries are arriving at my door as I type, and I am raring to perform a trial run on how I am going to fit all the camping supplies into my car.
They don’t exist for me anymore. Or, at least, they don’t exist on Monday anymore. Nope, my Mondays are now reserved for Sunday, courtesy of my newfound position. It’s exciting—I have finally found a means of capital to invest in the blog. Unfortunately, it does mean that I have less time to write for the […]
I would have been remiss if I didn’t write something about this album. I’ve listened to largely nothing but IC-02 Bogotá through the week. These are my thoughts.
I mounted a soapbox for this one, but sometimes you have to.
I ordered stickers. And I think that’s where I went wrong.
It was a devious ploy. A salty intrigue. But alas, it ended as it only could have: me having to get off my fat arse and doing something.
I did not start writing this blog post until 4AM in the morning. Apologies if I’m a bit wistful about times long past.
I read books funny. What I mean is that my way of reading books is funny. And what I mean by that is my rhythm of reading is just downright absurd. That includes how I finished up “Stay True” by Hua Hsu.
Well, it’s been a while since we’ve talked about the Portland Trail Blazers.
I have been writing non-stop for eight hours, guys. EIGHT HOURS. Some poetry over there. A post over there. Another post over there. And this post here, all about writing poetry, the limits I’ve found in myself, and what I’m going to do to surpass them.