In which the author imagines a day in the life.

The COVID has already taken eighteen percent of my town’s population and the government collapsed months ago. But that doesn’t stop the fact that I need supplies and that my cat is not going to allow me to go another…

In which the author conflates personal grief with societal angst.

To be specific, my cat Frank died overnight between Friday and Saturday. Today is Sunday and I am still grieving hard for his passing. I suspect I will be for some time to come.

Frank was fifteen years and ten…

Stephen M. Paulsen

Spear Thistle (Cirsium vulgare). Debatably pretty. Lots of thorns. High-functioning depressive guarded by wit, sarcasm, and brutal honesty.

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