That Musky Smell, or “I’ll Tweet As Many Ukrainian Flags As I Damn Well Want” 🇺🇦🇺🇦🇺🇦

Twitter has been rapidly going the way of Myspace since the day it became the personal treehouse of everybody’s least favourite billionaire who isn’t orange. You can definitely feel the vital life force sucked out of The Bird since the takeover. In light of this unfortunate turn of events, I’ve been actively shopping around for alternate platforms to document this grandiose journey I have planned for the upcoming academic off-season.

I’ll probably hold my nose and post more on Instagram, even though I utterly can’t stand its superficial culture. Many moons ago, I came upon the Insta page of a perfect stranger with a long-forgotten handle whose feed was one of many I was browsing at random one night to get a sense of what sort of things people post on the ‘Gram. One of her posts was a lengthy heartfelt meditation concerning her grandfather’s then-recent Stage IV cancer diagnosis. While there’s certainly something to be admired about the guts it takes to write of things so personal and tragic in a public forum visited by millions daily, the strength of her message was instantly derailed by the accompanying image — a completely non sequitur goofy selfie taken with some filter that gave her cat whiskers or some shit. You got the sense that the whole point of mass communication was completely lost on her. Of course most of the comments revolved around how pretty she was.

Hey, look at me. I’m an influencer.


A Retooling? A Retooling!

Most of what I’ve written in the last year (save that which I have written for academic reasons) has been verbal diarrhea. While a thorough cleansing of my literary colon did my chakras a world of good, an itch has since come upon me to write of things less vulgar, for the world presently has more vulgarity than it needs. I actually have specific ideas in mind about what such things would be, which I shan’t reveal just yet.

Good guess, but no.


So I Didn’t Do #NaNoWriMo Last Year

Mostly because I had other fish to fry. However, my experience writing SILVER BROWN (and subsequently 2021’s project for National Novel Writing Month, which was an offshoot of SILVER BROWN) came up as a topic whilst chatting with somebody I met once on one of those crazy apps. The conversation fizzled soon after I brought up the talking ferret, but it got me thinking about what kind of grand artistic endeavour I should tackle next. During the holidays, I spontaneously jotted down something in the notepad on my phone to that effect, which I’ll have to wait until the end of the academic year to pursue in earnest.