I’m not sure why, but I was utterly convinced tonight’s Dispatches from Elsewhere was the finale, and I guess it isn’t, and now I’m all at sea again. I mean, in a good way, but, hey, wow: what a disorienting thing.
The unsupported use case of Bix Frankonis’ disordered, surplus, mediocre midlife in St. Johns, Oregon.
Read the current manifesto. (And the followup.)
Rules: no fear, no hate, no thoughtless bullshit, and no nazis.
I’m not sure why, but I was utterly convinced tonight’s Dispatches from Elsewhere was the finale, and I guess it isn’t, and now I’m all at sea again. I mean, in a good way, but, hey, wow: what a disorienting thing.