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loose with booze,
It meant I was somewhere where things could happen.
slush pile of DMs.
He wrote this on the title page in pen. It was the only part of the book I read.
Other people were my mother’s favorite topic.
my mother refused to honk; she thought it was undignified—a
ignorance is bliss, then it’s also the greatest luxury money can buy.
It was the kind of thing brands had started posting recently, as if they were moral entities instead of capitalist enterprises, as if they had values beyond customer retention and profit margin. We’d come to expect this from them—they were now our legislators, our educators, and, most importantly, our friends. As people began to think of themselves more and more as brands, brands started to feel more and more like people.
I used to believe that the world was speaking to me through objects, signs, and noises—at long dinners, I liked to crawl under the table and interpret its hidden language, like, If my dad coughs in the next thirty seconds, it means that he loves me. My dad had a bad smoker’s cough in those days and was always coughing.
Personality was a cozy way of saying personal brand.
I had imagined that my actions, so easily faked, would not impact who I was; yet added together, it turned out those actions amounted to my life.
“Yeah, if you’re into performative wokedom.” This was something I’d seen someone else say on Instagram. Of course, I was really just pissed I hadn’t been sent one.

