Ah, self-Googling. Ah, college. Found some super old stuff I first published in The Messenger, University of Richmond's lit mag. Or, should I say, the first things I ever got published. Two short stories, The Ride [pg 1, pg 2, pg 3, pg 4, pg 5, pg 6, pg 7, pg 8] (first "real" story I wrote in 2005) and The Wheelchair (later published in the now-cryogenic VerbSap), as well as La Fille blonde, a French sonnet cuz I used to speak French real nice-like. Makes me want to violently shake my current self into some semblance of productivity. What a precocious youth I was. Now I feel forced into going for a run. Yes, it's 1:46am. Uhh, maybe I'll just try to write a good story. That would be odd. In a good way. Plus, it's going to take more than a sweaty mile to reclaim the girlish figure once seen below. Streaking seemed to be a better idea in suburban Virginia. Still pale as fuck though.
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