Tuesday dreams of ants. They circle a glass of water in the morning.
Jeff Bezos is the richest person alive—do you think he has a shot at trillionaire?
“Once the writer in every individual comes to life (and that time is not far off), we are in for an age of universal deafness and lack of understanding.” —Milan Kundera, The Book of Laughter and Forgetting
Ampersands are fat-jowled men in wigs, or pigs thinking.
I shave my face and listen to Philip Larkin on YouTube when I feel too high to exist.
My writing seems on hold for the week as my girlfriend and I purchase a home. My drinking is not on hold.
Life is the liquid in a glass half full. And your friends are bobbing in it, alongside you, until they're not.
My favorite writers report you never get over the feeling you're an amateur writer. No small comfort, but somehow a small win.
Something I don't do during the week anymore is drink hard alcohol. Last night I drank a Negroni in celebration.