Coming out, being out and doing it again and again. — Years ago, I tried to write an essay about why coming out is pretty much a never-ending process and it was really fucking hard to write[1]. I’ve found myself re-sharing it a few times since: During pride, on bisexual visibility day and, again, today on National Coming Out Day —…

Okay. So I want to tell you about my grandma who died and I don’t want to make it seem like you have to read or listen or feel bad about it. My little sister always says “It’s Okay! …

— a happy pause at the bottom. — The first book I picked up during this trip was my well-loved copy of Albert Camus’ “Myth of Sisyphus.” We were hauled up in a motel and I’d just brought myself down from a particularly not-fun panic attack, fiddling through the the torn edge of page 112 between thoughts about…

Even though you’ll never actually be the version of you that juices more and scowls less. — My first Friday of fun-employment was unsurprisingly a real bummer. Loafing around in a ratty pair of my dad’s sweatpants, I spent hours fielding emails and messages that were far too kind and/or optimistic for me to digest at the time. The yorkie was thrilled to have my company and…

— And getting your Aux cord privileges revoked for life. — I’m a shit road trip DJ and I know it. Some people are gifted at dropping tracks that’ll make the suspension shake from the pure joy they’ve unleashed, and others (read: me) aren’t. Like, look: Some friends can have their iPod on shuffle for an entire trip and score those…

— So now I’m playing catch-up. — In my mind, driving cross country with occasional bouts of socializing left a lot of time for writing. I thought I could pull off some regular words-making considering the schedule I’d been used to before getting laid off and the sheer amount of stuff I’d be seeing, doing, experiencing. But…

Yeah, Bummer: #Patriarchy can mess with your travel plans too. — I’m standing in the doorway of our hotel room and I’m half-wishing we’d landed before the sun went down as Maya runs the eight to ten feet to our car to grab the extra gallon of water we packed. She has the car keys in one hand in that all-too-familiar…

— Finally adjusting to road trip time. — We woke up in Knoxville two days ago and didn’t realize we’d gone back in time. …

“Half of the time we’re gone but we don’t know where, and we don’t know where.” — “The Only Living Boy in New York,” Simon and Garfunkel Story goes that Andy Edison put a gun in his mouth early one April morning in ’78, just shy of my father’s fourteenth…