And on the subject of writing, I haven’t and I am, and those sort of feel like the same thing right now. The act of writing feels indistinguishable from the state of being not-writing. Read more here.
Tag Archives: rain of toads and other horrors
The Year of the Move, Pt. 4
So. I’m a little less poor and a little less plump and a little less rested, and I’m alive. I’ve recalibrated my scale of suffering. I’ve officially lost the only home I’ve ever had. More of my belongings are in storage than are with me. I have a dwelling, but not a home. Where the […]
The Year of the Move, Pt. 3
(Content Warning: The following post discusses mental health issues, self-harm, and suicidal thoughts and actions, including experiences of such by young children. Please consider your own mental health when deciding whether or not to read on.) Last time, I summed up death, lies, outrageous lies, and taxes, the great inevitabilities of my life. I even […]
The Year of the Move, Pt. 2
Last time, I told you a little about the situation that got us into the mess that would be 2013. I’ve had the bomb dropped on me that I will be moving before the year is out, voluntarily or otherwise, and I will have very little choice but to go wherever I am told. It […]
The Year of the Move, Pt. 1
In a post earlier this year, I mentioned that my grandmother had died and that I was having to move. I also mentioned that I might, at a later point, talk about those rather large pieces of news. This is that later point. I won’t name names. I’ll maintain something approaching plausible deniability. But this, […]