I was never one for annual reflections; they never seemed particularly useful or self-fulfilling. After all, most of my years have always been the same: a steady (almost stagnant) progression of events that I often associate with aging.
the clubhouse is a place of dissidence, intimacy, and culture. Here’s my bit of intimacy.
It’s been 10 minutes since the end of your 21st birthday. Somehow, I managed to remember it despite always being so clumsy and forgetful.