2018, my optimism is as great as my fear. Be glorious, and grow no more.
A discussion with the creator of the Misaviv Hebrew Circle Calendar.
A poem that squeezes humor and even transcendence out of my obsessiveness, ineptitude, and rotten choices. I'm guessing many can relate in various ways.
This is a strictly non-medical way of looking at pain relief.
What is age? What is truth? What is time? If I feel like I’m 18, or 28, or whatever, why can’t I be?
My thoughts while observing Brown University's class of 1939
This one goes out to all the people just trying to get through it
No homework, more freedom; adulthood has its perks.
Losing stuff, mean people, hair in my food... I rant a bit. And hope for something better.
