Getting a weird little hobby is actually so important bc it opens your eyes up to the world. You start crocheting or knitting, and how you see scarves and sweaters differently. You try identifying plants, now you’re seeing opposite and alternate leaf pattern. Bird watching? Every chirp draws attention and interest.
Teddy Wayne’s new novel considers “male friendship, failed ambition, geographical and class divides in America, and divergent views of masculinity,” says critic Heller McAlpin – and the unease it provokes will stay with you. Find her full review here.
Every year that goes by, I get further and further into October before the inevitable sucker punch to the gut that destroys me for the rest of the month.
This year, I thought maybe I had beaten it.
One tiny, insignifigant Facebook Memory was all it took. Nothing more than the date. “October 9, 2010.”
Oh. That was 20 days before he died.
That fucking feeling of “I had no idea what was about to happen.”