If you watch this live you will receive the following indispensable treats:
An attempt to brainstorm for my newest story
My launch announcement for a new substack (am I joking? I still don’t know)
The intro to the fiction inspired by the live (see below!)
Inaudible sirens that Nick hallucinated
- getting her new nickname “Sedge” (historical moment).
Me calling
an American (he may never speak to me again).Albino creatures spied over a wall (the highlight?)
Also, I said goodbye at least 2 dozen times… but there’s another floral scene and note taking extravaganza after the litany of goodbye-i-love-you’s.
Despite the fact that I kept harping on how you should all ramble on in the chat, my phone glitched and did not record your talkings. Would you tell me if anyone said anything interesting? Did anybody grab the mic?
Here’s the start of that fiction:
Shrinking
It’s not like I’m actually that tall, and you wouldn’t call me heavy, but I’m big. People notice it all the time. Other guys always want to do that back-to-back measuring thing. If they end up taller (which they usually do), I act like I care and say something like, yeah, but look at your soles. I make it sound like being big is what I’m going for.
I just take up more space than other people. I think it’s got something to do with my density. I weigh more than I should. Like, I look maybe 190, max, but when I weighed in today, it said 210. My mom says it’s my bone density.
It makes me a good hockey player, though. Terrible at basketball, which sucks, because playing ball was my childhood dream.
Before I got so big, I used to get that feeling …that flying feeling… when you take off, hand up, wrist cocked just right, feet pushing off the court like springs. That second in the air, everything slows down. Like actually flying.
Now I can barely get off the ground.
Swimming’s a problem too, but I’m not gonna bore you with all that. Tamara told me to write everything down, with as many details as possible, but I think she meant about the incident.
When I asked her where to start, she said, “Why not the beginning?”
Which, okay, is kind of a dumb answer. Like, technically, the beginning is birth. Or conception. Or whatever came before that, depending how far back you want to go. But I didn’t say that. I just said, “Okay.”I think she meant the beginning of the day it happened. But I want to start with the first time the thing really happened.
That feels like the actual beginning.
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