Oh, hey. Been a while. My brain is still broken, which should shock no one.

This video sums up my feelings at the moment, though I’m not sure whether I identify more with the martial artist or the kid.

I think my current state of sleep deprivation is going to be more useful for febrile poetic scribbling than a coherent blog post, but I felt like writing SOMETHING here to reassure myself. I do still need to recap Pitchfork (over two weeks later, eek). Also, there will be food reviews, maybe?

To give this post some actual content, here is a thing that happened with my cat last night.

(Cat lies on the very edge of my mattress, precariously balanced.)

K: Sally, you’re going to fall off the bed and I’m going to laugh at you.

(Some time later, cat does indeed fall mostly off the bed, but clings to it with her front paws and scrabbles back up in the way fictional characters often do from cliffs.)

K: (laughs hysterically)

(Cat makes a peculiar, oddly human noise of irritation/disapproval and bites my arm.)

K: I probably had that coming.

I’m defining “content” loosely here, I realize.


We found a pulse.

Not dead. For nine days, anyway, if you believe certain misinterpreters of archaic timekeeping.

Got a full-time job, got an apartment of my own, ran off to New York for a weekend, &c &c. This all makes it sound dreadfully more simple than it actually was, but panic attacks don’t really make for entertaining blog posts.

Does this mean I’ve entered adulthood? I’ve just spent the past four hours watching YouTube clips on unusual medical conditions instead of cleaning my apartment and/or writing this, so maybe not.