Good evening. It’s been 84 years since I last wrote to my devoted, discerning readers. The reason for that is I’ve recently come into some (part-time) work and have been too exhausted to attempt the delicate stringing of sentences. What kind of work, you ask? That seems hardly relevant. Certain days, behind the bar of a café, where I leave my body and input vegan Cappuccinos into iPads while coworkers ask me to turn “Dealer” by Lana Del Rey down on the speakers. Everyone there is a lesbian, a they/them, or a trans. Even the gentlemen in the back preparing the food have really dykey energy.
She Lived, She Served Vegan Donuts, She Died
Good evening. It’s been 84 years since I last wrote to my devoted, discerning readers. The reason for that is I’ve recently come into some (part-time) work and have been too exhausted to attempt the delicate stringing of sentences. What kind of work, you ask? That seems hardly relevant. Certain days, behind the bar of a café, where I leave my body and input vegan Cappuccinos into iPads while coworkers ask me to turn “Dealer” by Lana Del Rey down on the speakers. Everyone there is a lesbian, a they/them, or a trans. Even the gentlemen in the back preparing the food have really dykey energy.
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