Down with the sickness this weekend, updating websites I haven’t touched in far too long. I blame Rachel and Miles, who have haunted me all weekend. I even missed the poetry slam, on account of being Patient Zero for the next great epidemic. Despite all my sleeping, I made a thing. This isn’t it, but it turns out pens bleed if you use them on napkins, and sometimes they make cool shapes.
Writing feels good. Making things feels better. I’d rather do that than almost anything. Except Skyrim.