I was going to echo the acute anxiety about the walls of the apocalypse caving in in the form of the ashy orange sky today, but that would be what everyone else is doing. We didn't have a daytime today, and we're dulled by the 300 stories per rotation about scandals at the top. I am wrapped in cotton compared to everyone else. If it ever comes down
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I’ve been thinking a lot about this belly-fat of middle age situation. It is not fun or interesting, and I’m over it. I made so many changes this year like taking up skateboarding and trying to read more weirdo fiction. The inner fires need stoking, for sure, or they just go. Dating in my forties has made it painfully obvious that most people seek only security and interview partners accordingly, “have you ever filed bankruptcy?” “What are your dealbreakers?” Ask 100 men what their favorite book is and hear them all say, “Honestly, I don’t read very much anymore.” 😩
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