One of the bestworst things about being the owner of my brain is that I am usually at my most prolific and creative when I feel a festering knot of sadness in my gut. Ain’t that some shit?
Here’s a little something I put together for the 12th and Broad crew’s inaugural magazine. It’s the subscription card — the lone one! so there aren’t a hundred of them falling out and annoying you! — that’s inserted into the magazine.
This might be true but it’s also true that the Universe’s hook will cut you in soft, vulnerable, fleshy spots you only thought you had hidden and protected. And the discovery of those cuts will make you really fucking sad. And make you realize you have a lot of work to do to get those spots toughened up, guarded, cut out of you entirely.
“I often see how you sob over what you destroy, how you want to stop and just worship; and you do stop, and then a moment later you are at it again with a knife, like a surgeon. ” — Anaïs Nin
Write more, even when it is inconvenient. Even when it feels redundant, superfluous. Put it all down and crystallize it in pixels. You will be dead some day and there will be nothing of you to inherit except some irreverent crap on the web. DON’T TAKE THAT RESPONSIBILITY LIGHTLY
I was settling in for a long-overdue nap when I got a text from a second team member calling out. I was unable to coax anyone into coming in for an OT shift so I got in the shower and went into the office myself. Then I got some news about the house in Memphis needing a major repair, for which I do not have the funds, so I contacted my mom to ask to…
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