forget running for office if youve ever tweeted about, like, anything. ​ I cant remember at what point my posts started becoming a liability rather than a rich text of my life.

but jet lag has a way of making even comfortable beds in comfortable neighborhoods seem foreign. There should be a term for this sort of chain reaction of literary progeny: you read a book that forces you to read a book that forces you to read a book, the textual equivalent of a wild night out. but I just want to fade the instinct a little bit, to train myself for more durable content.