This is my once-a-week free column. If you like it, maybe think about becoming a paid subscriber? For that you get ‘em all. I don't even know what "normal" means anymore. Do you? Interaction these days feels weird. There doesn't seem to be a happy medium anymore. Either we're sitting in the corner all mysterious, like Bob Dylan at a party, or we're going wildly over the top trying to cram 2 missed years into one bar-night. Sometimes we want to do everything and go everywhere and bark at the moon even if the endless NEPA clouds hide it away. Other times? The mere suggestion of "going out" is laughable. We're damaged goods Bubba, dressed in sweatpants and covered with blankets on the couch, and that damage manifests itself in all kinds of ways.
Words matter
Words matter
Words matter
This is my once-a-week free column. If you like it, maybe think about becoming a paid subscriber? For that you get ‘em all. I don't even know what "normal" means anymore. Do you? Interaction these days feels weird. There doesn't seem to be a happy medium anymore. Either we're sitting in the corner all mysterious, like Bob Dylan at a party, or we're going wildly over the top trying to cram 2 missed years into one bar-night. Sometimes we want to do everything and go everywhere and bark at the moon even if the endless NEPA clouds hide it away. Other times? The mere suggestion of "going out" is laughable. We're damaged goods Bubba, dressed in sweatpants and covered with blankets on the couch, and that damage manifests itself in all kinds of ways.