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I hate promoting stuff I wrote so much.

Made me think I should try getting a publishing deal.

But then when I looked at that, I saw that being signed in current year is basically just being indie but you gotta profit share with some dorks

Anyway, I should prolly mention I have two novellas out more

Made myself cry a bit from reading my own book. Proud of that, I hope it's as moving for other people

(about to ruin your childhood voice) hey remember when Sting out of WCW did a Joker gimmick

I've been listening to leopard seal calls all morning. There's something so beautiful about the sounds they make.

I would love to hear them live, but there is absolutely no way I'm gonna visit Antarctica, I hate the cold.

Spent a good chunk of my lunch break sifting through legal documents for precedents that show a recent discriminatory guideline issued was, in fact, unlawful. It's long, but my preferred form of activism is the kind that involves very little activity.

Y'know Uber, I don't think "audio recording in the app" is going to make me any safer, But I get the feeling someone's getting something good out of you for that one, and it ain't your customers...

Should probably write something about the way approval for broad-reaching restrictions on the type of person you're legally allowed to be in this country (UK) is manufactured by the media targeting minority groups. The right to camp wild in this country—a right that's been fought for and then fiercely defended for ages—gone in the early '20s because the media got people to hate travellers more than they love their own freedom.

You may notice a pattern here.

I'll get around to it eventually, researching a...

Part of me wants to work on the book, part of me wants to vomit every time I take a lungful of this humidity

Just hit the halfway mark with editing my manuscript. Very excited to finish it. After that, there's the unenviable task of typesetting it. If I didn't love writing, this would be hell.

a poem I wrote following a conversation with my partner about my taste in art:

Build Me This

Fresh from the gleaming modern slavepits lodged in the back of my skull,
a schematic. Spidery handwritten title "art I like".

Will you build me a machine so elegant and sorrowful (for what else could
something so beautiful feel, except apocalyptic sadness?), pristine in its
manipulators, clamps, scalpels, and promise that—

as it lifts me off my feet, tearing clothes while tiny metal jaws bite...