November 4, 2020

Razor

Last night a friend gave us a package of red-white-and-blue Oreos that were produced for the Olympic Games that did not happen this summer. Now they’ve been rebranded as some sort of all-purpose patriotic cookie. I ate ten of them for breakfast because time is no longer measured by clocks, only the steady drip of votes. A razor-thin margin in Nevada. Refresh. A nail-biter in Georgia. Refresh. A slow-motion drift in Pennsylvania. Refresh. A lot of places are sold out of nicotine gum.


Temple Ov Saturn – The Narrow Path

The Serpent’s Gift | 2019 | Bandcamp
Each night in 2020 I'm writing a short post for a series called Notes From the End of a World because I want to etch these days into my memory before I forget them. Before the world changes completely.
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