A Streetcar Named Desire (1951)
Head like a bowl full of Alpha-ghetti.
I should write more than once a year, even if it’s primarily self-serving. It’s the internet after all, dammit. Keeping it together and pretending to be an adult is easier when one is quiet about it. Let’s not give ourselves away, now. At the same time, a person gets cabin fever living inside his or her head for too long, and time has a mean way of passing faster than it seems.
So for the sake of health: hello, I’m still here. Thanks for still being here, too. Gratitude offered to Netflix (specifically the faces on Happy Endings and Fringe), friends in places near and far and the means to communicate with them, the return of summer in Canada, and images of naked men. Jah bless.