I think I have writer’s block. I can’t think of anything to say.

I mean obviously there’s a lot to say. The world is being stalked by a killer virus and I’m on the scary, vulnerable, “you’re next” list. We have a nincompoop for a president. The West Coast keeps burning. There are zero jobs. Black people continue getting shot for no reason whatsoever. White supremacists are teed up to take to the streets on Election Day.

At least not well.

I can do the perpendicular to the floor, parallel to your knees thing. But not the almost to the floor, heels on your bum thing.

You haven't heard from me because . . . I've been at the beach.

THE WORLD IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE THIS.

The skies are supposed to be an unobstructed blue. Wild strawberries are supposed to cover the fields. Dogs are supposed to smile.

things i won’t do ever again after the pandemic is finally done and hell has frozen over.