last night a hulking ghostly figure shimmered above my laptop and said “congratulations you’ve completed all the poems for your next book. enjoy the next ten years of trying to put it together!”

in order to keep writing this novel i’ve had to fight a little voice in my head that’s pretending to cheer me on. it says this chapter is going to be the best ever. it’s going to redefine literature. nooo just write. finish a first draft.

as bad as things are, i still found the clips of the hegseth confirmation hearings yesterday particularly depressing and debased.

was not expecting xenophobes vs plutocrats to start before he even got into office. merry xmas

pretty sure i’m the only person who could make a good dylan movie with timothy chalomet but i’ll give it a chance.

ps im available to make the sequel with michael cera.

Gukesh, upside-down,
in cruciform, shouts, “i am
the world champion”

since 1968 white americans have voted for the republican in every presidential election. we suck.

positive spin on the news: gaetz not AG and 19 senators voted against genocide. glass half full.

It was the Busta Rhymes
It was the Wusta Rhymes

anybody else writing a novel about being a poet?

76 million people are not immoral. this was an intellectual failure.

First time felt Orwell. This time feels Kafka.