Apologies for the lateness of this newsletter. I have been holding myself together with spit and paper, which doesn’t work well as an adhesive.
(this post contains triggering material)
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Last night I researched how to make my phone unpalatable.
This was after I watched a bunch of old Madonna performances; after watching Fuck You Faggot Fucker, a documentary about one of my favorite artists, David Wojnarowicz, who I wrote about here:
Afterwards, I broke down sobbing. Like, really sobbing. Do I need to share why I sobbed or can you relate to sobbing or wanting to sob? I sobbed about everything. Remembering my life before social media, recalling the AIDS crisis and the Reagan era and how history seems to be repeating itself. I cried because I live in Florida. Because I feel helpless, burned out, and lacking in resource…
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