here is when, triumphant, i strike through. each item a small achievement, planned to be smushed into the margins of a busy day, instead now wholeheartedly accomplished. excited, i make my way to the bottom of the list. here i am! finally.

. . .

well, fuck.

there are some cute memes going around about being sorry for talking so much shit about 2019.

it occurs to me that we all spent a lot of last year wishing for more time to self-care.

careful what you wish for, eh isolated friends?

but also, i wanna lean in! face masks and baths and exercise and healthy diets. some people are learning to cook. i am learning to tie knots and bake bread. there’s growth work to be done. it sucks, but so does everything right now. and i’m healthy, which is not a thing to squander.

i dream of people coming out of isolation looking like they had a makeover. like they loved the shit out of themselves the whole time. like they are ready to take on the whole world, now open for business again. i keep looking at that moment. will it be, can it be, anything other than debaucherous? i want to be ready.

i look great naked.

nobody said it in a while so i thought i oughta.