what happens when something horrific becomes a battleground for everyone else’s certainty? the lindsay clancy case pulled me in, and then i had to ask myself why i was letting it consume so much of my energy. somewhere between unanswered questions, online sleuthing, rage, conspiracy theories, and people absolutely losing their fucking minds, i had to step back and look at what this whole thing is doing to us. maybe the truth is still somewhere in the middle. maybe it’s not. i don’t know. but i do know this: we’ve lost the plot. and maybe this is a reckoning for all the motherfuckers.

came home to a flooded bedroom. wild.

i hate loose ends.

a reflection on friendship, certainty, and biting my tongue.

a bagger rolls by. my mind draws conclusions. turns out, a few were about me.

a first jiu-jitsu tournament, a bronze medal, and a moment that had nothing to do with winning.

a reflection on nostalgia, loss, and the strange ache of realizing a chapter can be over long before the feelings are.

featuring a protein smoothie, questionable life choices, and an ongoing investigation into the crux of my fuckery.

featuring a rainy walk, a free trucker hat, 672 pounds of concrete, and a daybed that never stood a chance.

featuring: a disco ball, a funk, and absolutely no useful conclusions

a walk under a moonless sky, a recent wake-up call, and some thoughts about the difference between knowing better and wanting better