Photo by Quentin Bounias on Unsplash

Hey there! I just wanted to say that I’m so so sorry to have been a little MIA recently- but I have a really good reason, I promise.

It’s just that- and I’m kind of embarrassed to admit this- I’ve had a loud, angry feral raccoon living in front of my house for months. I mean, I still do. As I write this, The Raccoon is pacing in front of my garage and letting out a chorus of piercing, unholy shrieks.

You’d think that a giant screaming raccoon would be the sort of thing a person would notice right away…

The year’s barely begun but it’s okay if you’re already exhausted.

Photo by Kinga Cichewicz on Unsplash

This time last year I was signing up for an art class. It was my 2020 New Year’s resolution and money towards the tuition was the only thing I’d floated to my parents during their annual Gift-Idea-Reconnaissance-Mission.

My goal for 2020 was to become a visual artist. My dad was a cartoonist but had never gotten around to sharing that gene with me or any of my siblings. Writing is my chosen medium because a pen feels like the instrument I am least likely to embarrass myself with — but then again, this essay isn’t even halfway finished so that…

I lost my dad during the pandemic and tried to fast track my grief. It didn’t work.

Photo by Mayron Oliveira on Unsplash

Grief—and I shouldn’t have to tell anyone this (though I sincerely wish I did)— is a funny thing. Not so much haha funny but more “What else can you do?” funny. It’s funny in the same way spilling Tapatio hot sauce on your blouse as you hurriedly eat a breakfast burrito in the elevator ride up to your office because the trash truck blocked your driveway is funny.

That said, I lost my father quite suddenly in March. He was a secondary casualty to the pandemic, unable to get the medical attention he required for what turned out to be…

Photo by Alexander Mils on Unsplash

You could say I’m pretty… nice for sharing my tips.

Hey there, readers! It’s me, that person who’s always on the front page of Medium despite churning out the literary equivalent of the ingredients list on the back of a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. You know, the person where when you get the Medium Member Digest in your inbox and you read that part about the most amount of money made by a single writer that month and you’re like “Wow I hope it’s not that jabroni that writes listicles about how early entrepreneurs get up in the morning,” but it is! It’s me, the jabroni!

But don’t worry…

by Moebius


If you’re reading this it means that you’ve tried to contact me and I have already left to run a recently acquired Winchell’s franchise location in a vast and immeasurable extradimensional desert. I know it seems very sudden and I apologize for the inconvenience, but this really seems like the right thing to do.

It’s just that things have been really overwhelming of late and I really think it would do me some good to put eight outfits in a tote bag, three diet cokes in my purse and drive out to the desert, find an unmarked half-paved highway and…

More often than not, we’re reduced to horrible archetypes who ruin everyone’s lives

Photo by Etienne Boulanger on Unsplash

I had entered the theater with the purest of intentions and the highest of expectations. I had also, it behooves me to inform you, spent about $15 on an inflated matinee ticket and another $10 on an underwhelming pretzel, so I had already invested quite a bit in the day. I was going to enjoy the experience if it killed me.

I was there to see Midsommar, despite never having willingly gone to see a horror film in my life. A dear friend, with whom I’d previously bonded over shared trauma from nearly identical toxic and emotionally abusive exes, assured…

Hi Anthony,

I hope this finds you well.

I found it interesting that you mentioned Palm Springs in your letter. I mean I did also watch it and loved it despite my previous assertion that the only good thing a straight couple ever made in Palm Springs is me.

But I digress, back to my original point:

Almost every conversation I have now involves some kind of pop culture analogy. You’re not the only person who has turned to books, television or films to try and find an analogy for such extraordinary circumstances. Sometimes I even seek it out.


Photo by Ashim D’Silva on Unsplash

It’s a Sunday night. I have an infected spider bite on my knee the size of a silver dollar pancake. This isn’t news, this time of year I almost always have an infected spider bite somewhere on my body. Two years ago when I didn’t have insurance I spent $1200 for an ER doctor to tell me that spiders have little tiny spores in their venom and that some people are very allergic to this spores and immediately develop cellulitis and that I was one of them. …

It’s been two months and I still don’t know what to say, only that I’m supposed to say something.

And it’s not that I don’t want to write about it because I am in denial of what has happened but because there is so much happening that it seems selfish to ask anyone to bear witness to it when it feels like every day is a new, insurmountable tragedy. What feels like a wave to me surely must surely just be one more drop in the grief that is already pooling around our ankles and soaking the carpet.

But he is gone. And even if it feels selfish to say so, it feels disrespectful not to.

My dad didn’t…

Good Afternoon,

It is with a heavy heart that we here at TotenVoice must inform you that this year’s greatly anticipated Danse Macabre has been postponed indefinitely as we struggle to understand and combat the novel coronavirus. Please be assured that we share your disappointment and frustration. …

Devon Henry

the second mrs. de winter

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