Queer writer of weird things
Well, this clearly didn’t become a habit. I’ve started writing this post I can’t remember how many times, and deleted most of it almost as many times. It’s been a challenge to build new routines now that my usual ones have been upended or just plain eliminated. Maybe we’re all having that. My sleep routines have …
The other day, I was making a cup of afternoon tea. That has become a habit since I've been staying at home. I've pulled out the fancy loose-leaf teas only to find most are years old and taste either bland or spoiled—into the compost they go. So, yesterday was just a plain old orange spice …
(What? I never said this was going to be a daily diary. You think I'm that organized, focused, and able to maximize my free time? Oh, child.) I'm still trying to find my bearings and settle into a routine. Let's just say that is not exactly my strongest suit. Normally, I go to the gym …
All of this has happened before, and all of it will happen again. Earlier today, I was thinking to myself: "Self," I thought, "you should start keeping your journal again." "That's a great idea," Self replied. "Think you'll stick with it?" "Doubt it. But it's worth a shot, hey?" So, here I am, giving it …