Progress is just upgrading the villain in our life story to one with better bandwidth.

Sunday morning, the church bells are calling.

TFi Friday

The frog and the tree don’t give a damn what day it is.

Before an idea takes shape, it appears as a bewildered creature stitched together. A strange, half formed creature, a tangle of limbs, eyes, teeth, and loose shapes that has not yet decided what it wants to be. It feels chaotic, unfinished with endless possibilities and full of potential all at once.

Sunday morning

I think of everything I write, but don't write everything I think.

I’m a Gemini, and somehow my closest friends through the years have always been Geminis too.

I have a vague memory from when I was a god once. After a few minutes, I wanted it to stop.

No matter how much time passes, sharing my secrets with my sister still feels safe, easy, and fun.

Crypto makes people delusional at the top and suicidal at the bottom. I’m unstable enough to know the middle is where I

Sunday morning, church bells are calling.