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 trains will go regardless of whether or not I am on them.
The story is grounded in a physical landscape, where food, clothing, and furniture reflect the changing world of Jade and her acquaintances.
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.
Our melting pot is being emptied out, and they are sifting through the ingredients.
Perhaps AI is a new iteration of the Grand Inquisitor; a benevolent pseudo-dictator of our own making.
I’m finding it hard to let this thing go.
