cookie monster

middle school

flesh confetti

I am considering all of the things I might do.

I might invest in some online real estate, and try to make myself a brand. I might draw one cartoon every week, and put it online, learn to speak the language of hashtags (which I am to understand is the new language of money). I might read more. I might listen to Q on CBC radio. I might master stop therapy, once and for all, and be done with this endless swirling speculation. On the other hand, I might finally stumble upon the source of this debilitating nostalgia, and thus should continue to wallow, so that I know the feeling when I come across it in the world.

I might buy some shoes. I might lose more weight. I might fall in love again (though I don’t feel sure) I might die I might scream I might explode and send myself in increments, in particles, in bits of hair, and streaming, steaming, aerodynamic chunks of flesh rocketing up towards the sky, and in that way only be free of doubt, of speculation, of lonesomeness and loss and every petty stab of inferiority, the urge to compare, for the bits of my flesh, my blood and bones, don’t know how to wonder, how to jabber, how to send my head shaking and my fists pounding, my mouth growling, without each other to consult.

Alone they sail toward the sky and in such solitude they will not - cannot - turn to one another, frown, and say, do you think we might come crashing back toward the ground again once we cease to gain momentum?

Existential Comic

So, I graduated from university.

It was great. I wore heels for the first time since an ill-advised night out in Barcelona four years ago, didn't bring band-aids, and forgot to eat before the ceremony. The speeches were really long (one lady wouldn't stop talking about her book club?) and the mortarboard made my head look even taller than it already is (which is very tall). But the upshot of all of this is that I didn't fall off the stage, and now I have a BFA.

Here is a picture of me eating pulled pork in the Creative Writing department after the ceremony:

I think it sums up my accomplishment pretty well.

So anyway, now I'm trying to write a novel. It's about a cat or something, and so far it's fifty pages long. From what I hear, they're generally supposed to be longer than that.

But what I thought was, it might make things easier for me if I had an alternate creative outlet that wasn't updating my facebook status. I've been doing some freewriting and short stories and whatnot, and soon I'll start writing comedy with some friends (I have friends), so I'll post here what I deem fit for public consumption. There will (theoretically) be writing, drawings, videos, and things in whatever other format it is possible to post on the internet. So probably no scratch-n-sniff :(

YET.

Maybe you will subscribe and comment and I will do the same for you and it will probably be great?

UP NEXT: a mostly un-sarcastic review of Oprah's final episode OR a short story about stoned teenagers in the summer time. Cast your votes in the comments.