A Pause While My Mother Made High-pitched

The Locker At The End Of Her Bed Had No Lock, And One Of The Hinges Was Busted. She Opened It Up. There Was A Thing In It. The Thing Might Have Been A Sandwich At Some Point, Or An Animal, Or A Human Hand...but What It Was Now Was Fuzzy And Putrid. A Minute Later, Ginny Was Down The Stairs, Out The Door, And Gone.

Hey! Jack The Wanker! Over Here! I Want Your Autograph!

There Is No Normal. I've Never Met A Normal Person. The Concept Is Flawed. It Implies That There Is Only One Way People Are Supposed To Be, And That Can't Possible Be True. Human Experience Is Far Too Varied.

Also, When On A Campaign To Convince A Stranger That You Aren't A Few Fries Short Of A Happy Meal, Throwing Around Phrases Like "tangentially Swedish" Is Not The Best Way To Go.

When I Worked In Theater, I Was Always Writing Things On Post-it Notes And Sticking Them On Screens Or Desks. Twitter Has Given Me A Way Of Continuing To Post Those Notes, Only A Lot Of Other People See Them, Too.