This is who runs this account

-warehouse worker -convenience store clerk -TTY/TRS 711 operator -medical records, which I’ve done for 15 years

Last night I dreamed I was in a library and I saw a headless man who’d had a copy of his head crafted in paper mache. He was sitting in a sleek mcm leather chair with the head on a little glass table at his elbow. I wanted to take his photo but didn’t know how to politely ask.

me (bursting open my apartment window like ebenezer scrooge): you there, boy! did it happen? boy (gloomily): no sir

Hello, I’m chronic depression

When you get the reputation of being the guy with the encouraging words on New Year's Eve, it can start to come through as a little pressure -- what if the situation on the ground is worse than usual? what if people are more scared than they usually are, and with cause? what use are good vibes then?

“I am an AI hater” amazingly written anthonymoser.github.io/writing/ai/h...

Fauve and I would get along all right. Justine and I not so much.

From the perspective of a ghost possessing a teen boy’s body:

"Did you see what Mark Cuban posted? Oh did you see the clapb—" You shake yourself awake in the cold North Atlantic water. You are not online. It is July of 1858. You are a baleen whale, and you have changed your mind. The future most not come to pass. The telegraph cable must break.

what it's like being in a band with me and you forgot to block my number

This is why I DNF like it’s my job: I do not have to eat a whole egg to know if it is bad etc

Working on a surrealist re-envisioning of the “sacrificial bride” trope set against the backdrop of a fictive, genetically Western silver mining town.

Jonesy

Find Chapter 10 of “The Year Wheel” on ao3 now: archiveofourown.org/works/580813...

New Mexican style huevos rancheros, drowning in “Christmas” style chili (red and green).

A late birthday gift for @adafrogg.bsky.social <33

2/2 Van de Venne painted the grumpy owls, too. Such a charming pair! Now with spectacles as well as snacks.

Furthermore public transit teaches you how to live with temporary minor annoyances and cars teach you that you're god's most special baby and your moment-to-moment comfort is the only important thing in the world

Both. But the important thing is that there was no way I wasn’t going to get a huge, glorious schnoz, which I love very much thank you.

I need more writer friends on here.

The extent to which my sense of humour has been largely massaged into its current state by spending 15 years on tumblr cannot be overstated.

I am always thinking unconsciously of the surreal James Dickey poem “A Folk Singer of the Thirties”, in which a hobo is crucified on the side of a train car and all the sources of the land’s wealth are magically revealed to him.

Reading Gaston Bachelard’s “The Poetics of Space”: mostly excerpts that jump out at me, since I’m having a hard time tying it to my own work on my childhood homes right now.

February revision of an old August poem.

Accountability poetry post: generate a rough draft in gdocs by evening.

Just watched an ep of Air Disasters where the copilot was trying to tell the pilot he was about to crash and the pilot was like, “no, no, I got it”… then the plane crashed and they died. Anyways if that was me I’d be following him around in the afterlife like “I FUCKING TOLD YOU”

Typed up one of the handwritten drafts from earlier. Still very much a WIP, it’s the rough opening sketch of a possible prose poem project about childhood, place, and memory.

Recent work, perhaps in more legible forms soon. Been doing so much writing and it feels like nothing afterwards, like washing my hands or eating something unmemorable. But there it is.

(David Attenborough narrating) As her offspring finishes its meal, the mother—a scavenger as well as an opportunistic predator—moves in. (Camera zooms on me snatching up pieces of naan bread off my daughter’s plate rejected for being “too bumpy”)

top all time episode of columbo is the one where he tells a gym owner that his wife is thick as fuck and he loves women with fat asses

This morning’s consolation, and every other morning. “The daily accident,” I repeat to myself, putting on my mascara, pinning back my hair. “Walking bravely out into the daily accident. Ok. Here we go.”

Today in "linguists are not kidding when they say that language enables you to understand sentences that have never been said before in the entirety of human history"

We can act too cool for Disney all we want but at some point the Encanto soundtrack comes for each and everyone one of us

No way Sauron speaks through a guy with a pussy in place of his face + a nasty gingivitis mouth

Ok no but listen what if the Franklin daguerreotypes were bought by a dark wizard who’s going to use them to create a 13 Ghosts type situation

Still vaguely annoyed that Sotheby’s chose to have today’s auction online only. I wanted gavels! Drama! Fistfights! And hopefully the spectacle of UK Museums uniting like superheroes to save the Franklin Expedition daguerreotypes from vanishing into the hands of a supervillain.

I’m not gonna do it tonight but tomorrow I should inaugurate my bsky with a “Cleo’s Greatest Hits” thread.

The fact that Cleo sits up here above my head grooming herself and purring, like every night? I know I’ve said this but it’s so good for my heart. It makes me so glad to be here.

I’d like to see a high school pom team routine set to “Rox on the Box” by The Decemberists, I just think it’d be funny as hell

Too bad she had him neutered when he was young