A month later and A Heart Breaking Work of Stagger Genius finally makes sense, too much sense. Real talk leaves you in the bathroom with everything so quiet that it is softly humming, saying "You may be okay. You may not be okay. Don't do anything about it." The part of growing up where you begin to forget and forget with intention are some of the most troubling times, the most refreshing, the most naked.
I guess I am trying to get at something life-changing without giving away the credits for the sake of being too confessional, my general state of being: two friends make a film. Only one of them edits the film. In the end of the movie, the one who did not edit slumps into his cushion and springs up and hugs everyone in that goddamn theater.
I had a dream I hugged my mother so hard, harder than in real life. She bought me rain boots.
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