Hi. I am alive. Not in the euphoric sense, but in the existence sense. This is about Phoebe Bridgers. Broadly speaking. Not really.
And stare at the bodies flickering around me
So, what now? I'm the MC in a Greek tragedy?
Nothing is sexier than a body cannibalizing itself
“When you are observing me, who do you think I am observing?”
An essay on coming alive
On art that sees you when no human could; on art that holds your hand as you sit in your grief; on art that understands you even when you can't stand…
"You, in pain, are no closer to god than/You, holding your own hand.
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Do Not Disturb