“I lay back in the heap of cords, which spawned and propagated from a bud, a navel, the hub of the Mimir, which still ran hot and loud a few minutes into the cooldown protocol.”
“Woodstock incubates the mosquitoes in the garage, which is uninsulated and hot in the summer. It’s recycling day, and he pours allotments of pond water into empty gallon jugs.”
One of the least nassholish ideas that I hold dear to myself is that, in the end, we will be delivered. Forces beyond our knowing care for us in ways that our slimy, underdeveloped sensory organs cannot appreciate so frequently. … Read More
I’m often reminded of the Nass EIC under whose honeyed and analgesic administration I worked as a staff writer my freshman year. This guy who studied comp lit and sat in the leather armchair that the Nass houses in the … Read More
“Hypothesis: people our age around the world are alone during a significant portion of their waking hours. And hypothetically, BeReal is the perfect observational device.”
“There are a million wolves hiding in the environmental substrate I’ve called speargrass. The reality is that they’re not even wolves. When they get home in the evening, they take off the wolfskin and look just like us.”
“I might survive, and what if I do? What if I swim through the waters and eat and hide from those raiders? And, god, what if I have to drink my own urine?”
When people say spring has sprung, they actually mean it has emerged from inside itself. Spring has ejected from its own abdomen through a lovely, vulvic little déchirure in the side. The whole thing sounded exactly like you’d think it … Read More
