On the crushing weight of the last year — and on letting go.
In case you, like me, still sense some nihilism around the edges of the crocuses.
Spring is a long con, baby.
A promise that spring is coming.
But we will. I promise, we will.
Take care while the credits roll, dear friends.
The antidote to repetition is repetition? Look, I don’t know either, man. Just make some soup.
On Stew, Rest, and Recovery
It’s hard to know how to protect people right now.
How are YOU holding up?
I’m sorry, friend. This has been a fucking doozy, hasn’t it?
