Nine Feet from the Ground
The battalion chief tells me real home intruders “don’t fuck up this badly.”
The battalion chief tells me real home intruders “don’t fuck up this badly.”
“Come on, bro, the Internet doesn’t have enough photos of people with twelve fingers, bro.”
Herons fished near trash still floating in their sanctuary.
It took us time to get used to John’s presence.
I actually might knock this out of the hands of my enemies to save them from reading it.
I couldn’t help but feel like there should have been more ceremony about it, or some kind of concrete ritual. Ribbons, maybe?
I’m not looking at every fabric on the internet. I’m not looking at every news story either.
The piece is therefore about both an escape from the material and a return to it: its horn calls and dance rhythms are both earthbound and transcendent.
Sue Perkins suddenly whisks the camera away to Oxfordshire to ask a scholar about what he calls “sexy bread:” cake.
Fitness
Setting #1: run four miles
Setting #2: run one to two miles with weightlifting
Setting #3: run three miles with weightlifting