I don’t want to write what I’m about to write. I really don’t. But I can’t think about anything else. This is what’s real for me right now. So I am giving you the chance… nay, I am imploring you, to stop reading right now. Take a walk. Call a loved one. Do anything other than expose yourself to the following paragraphs.
I've got shit on my mind
Listen, my babies. This newsletter is not a walk in the park on the best of days. Yesterday I linked you to a story wherein medical professionals had to remove a broomstick from a prison inmate’s rectum — a broomstick that he did not put there. I don’t want to write what I’m about to write. I really don’t. But I can’t think about anything else. This is what’s real for me right now.
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