quitter
I am not usually proud to be a quitter. I am today. I never thought I’d start again after I stopped for so long. Once I get used to a part of myself, it becomes difficult to remember how I was before it existed. Other people have fine memories; mine has never been shoddy, but it works differently than most folks’. I understand this now. I quit smoking. Again. In January of 2000, right before Chad decided he had to go away and figure himself out for a little while, I quit smoking. I had smoked — been a smoker — for ten years. At my peak, I smoked a pack a day. When I quit, I was smoking about half of a pack of menthol longs. Disgusting things, those, and I was not sorry to make the decision to give them up. I gave them up to prove...
Read Morethe state of the quill address
quill is back up and running, with its archives password-protected. Access is restricted to people I know. If you would like access, email me.
Read Morelockdown
I will be writing here again, but under lock and key. The archives are now password-protected. If you want to read them and future entries, you must email me. I reserve the right not to grant you access. Thanks.
Read More




