dear SUV with california plate 4RLJ8516,
i hope your shitty driving has earned you a stupendously large insurance premium, you fuckwit. i hope you roll your piece of shit SUV into the bay.
i didn’t really go away, but i’ve found there’s a certain comfort zone i need to inhabit to be able to write.
A ——– B —- C ——– D
if point A is a point somewhere on the anxiety-ridden side of at rest, and point D is the kind of boiling rage where you cut off other people’s middle fingers and arrange them in a giant depiction of a middle finger on your target’s lawn, then my comfort zone is from B to C.
as it happens, i returned from vacation and idled for awhile just below B, then jumped up into the C-D range, and have been hovering around C ever since.
that’s my story, and i’m sticking to it.