My Complicated History with Mice Continues
“It felt like the mouse was saying, ‘Hey man, check out this spread!’”
“It felt like the mouse was saying, ‘Hey man, check out this spread!’”
I know, I know, they’re landfill plastic and a waste of energy. But their golden glow frames my windows, making the pitch darkness at 6 p.m. less disturbing and almost cozy.
Currently, I’m in the middle of troubleshooting a production line of machines that work together to make uranium hexafluoride.
Perhaps then your recommendation letter will arrive via carrier pigeon.
When I was inevitably rejected from the six MFA programs I applied to, my understanding of myself as a writer crumbled into a number of pieces that were far too small to pick up for a while.
The waiting and work we put in make the outcome sweet.
This chicken has presence. This chicken has stature.
It’s weird to say I’ve been thinking about a comic that came out two weeks ago all year.
I now know exactly how my mom felt when we started wearing bell bottoms again.
Perhaps AI is a new iteration of the Grand Inquisitor; a benevolent pseudo-dictator of our own making.