Day Four
Day four and I wonder if it’s okay not to write about this.
For What Was Done and Not Done Well
Tell me: am I using the wrong words? Wearing the wrong clothes? When I say “black lives matter,” why does it translate into “yours doesn’t”?
Let America Be America
Let America be America again.
To Any Survivors:
It’s November ninth. I’m broadcasting to you from a bunker deep underground near the Earth’s core where it’s still warm. The election was yesterday, and we all know what happened.
Election Day
Russians, emails, and lies (oh my!)
Trust Me
We made a Pop-Tart assembly line. You know, to save time. An assembly line of two people. I toasted the Pop-Tarts and my brother Andrew buttered them.
A Song Sadder Than It Used To Be
What could have been? What would have been, always debated. Again and again, the future and now, and tears, but only hers.
Happy (Belated) Half-Birthday to Me
I will be at church at midnight on Christmas, because that’s my job now. I’ve surrounded myself with tradition and ritual, and I feel right at home.
The Limitations of Flowers
The woman looked at me like I’d asked to give her a dead fish, which, considering I looked like I had come out of the forest, wasn’t wholly misplaced.
An Alarmist Essay about Meteors
You may not have realized this, but the world came very close to ending last Sunday night.
