The First Bad Man

by Miranda July

Suddenly it occurred to me that nothing might be happening. I’d done that before. I had added meaningful layers to things that were meaningless many, many times before.

My body was so tired that it often floated next to me or above me, and I had to reel it in like a kite.

I had been quiet when there was no reason to be quiet and consistent when consistency didn’t matter.

Okay wow