Service Dogs and Weak Chins
I went out for Sunday breakfast intending to work on Undertow. Instead, while waiting for a table, I found myself contemplating two completely unrelated observations about humanity: fake fucking service animals and weak chins. So much for the best-laid plans.
I'm Next
A slow grocery-store checkout line shouldn’t become a test of human decency, but apparently that’s where we are. One woman thought I looked intimidating. Another thought she could maneuver around me and jump ahead. She was wrong.
Sometimes fairness is simple: if you were there first, you’re next.
Show the Fuck Up
People reveal themselves in tiny moments. A smile. A thank you. Eye contact. Or the complete absence of all three. A breakfast encounter at a local diner turns into a reflection on presence, energy, and the growing number of people sleepwalking through life expecting the world to carry them.