If you can keep it, 12/11/25

I am not-sick again, for however long this lasts. I had nearly forgotten how good it feels to not be ill. This isn’t terribly surprising, but before my past several months of back to back sicknesses I had stopped consciously appreciating how good being well felt.

In very similar ways I had failed to appreciate how good it was…

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The Harm Machine

We are building a harm machine.

The harm machine is growing, and it is hungry. It needs people. It eats them.

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Untitled, 10/9/25

I feel sick. I know what my country is facing. I know what is happening in my home, my homeland, my America. I see this administration wielding the truncheon of “law and order” eagerly, craving any response that will let the insecure and desperate men at the top (and all the way down) feel like big fucking heroes as they club down their fellow Americans for daring to disagree. I see them chasing those who aren’t white, who aren’t Christian, claiming that they’re chasing those who aren’t “American” while they draw an ever smaller circle around what it means to be American. 

My family comes from all over. Most of them are American citizens. I know that won’t matter when the administration’s circle slips a little tighter again, like a noose around our country’s neck. They’re going to go after my family, sooner rather than later.

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The Peripheral, by William Gibson

The Peripheral is a science fiction novel from William Gibson set in an awfully recognizable near future and a slightly less recognizable but still palpable further future—there’s kind-of-time-travel, but not quite. It’s been so long since I last read Gibson. I’d forgotten how wild and weird his books can feel, while also feeling so grounded in our own reality. I wrote a little about this last week. I have more observations now.

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