Here are a few links to things I’ve published on the internet. If you’re looking for my book or my zines, please visit my store!
“Who Do You Meet On The Greyhound?”, Summer 2019
“I met a girl who offered me pills. I turned them down, but I probably should have taken them. I met a guy who claimed to have once stayed in my super-small hometown and said that “people really know how to party there!” I met a super cool queer guy named Greene in one of the only outgoing moments I’ve ever had: I marched right up to him in the terminal and asked, “Are you bored? Because I’m really bored.” We sat next to each other and talked about boys and girls and our families and where we were headed and what we were leaving behind. He had a black eye and said that someone had tried to steal his Care Bears necklace and he’d fought them over it.”
I Resurrected My Dead Friends as Sims To Watch Them Live The Lives They Never Will, Huffington Post, November 2019
“In real life, I protested and marched and chanted and donated. At my job, I yelled at landlords, called Adult Protective Services, visited hospitals and did wellness checks. It all felt so fucking pointless. The terrible man got elected, people began losing their rights, my clients died or were harmed or just stayed traumatized and high. As the world fell to shit around me, my Sims stargazed and painted pictures and wrote novels and WooHooed (a Sims euphemism for having sex). A lot of them didn’t have jobs. They lived off the profits from their vegetables or paintings or novels (or because I cheated and gave them free money), which left them plenty of time to have affairs and dance along with the radio and gossip with each other.“
That Sims essay did way better than I thought it would. As a result of it, I was interviewed by the BBC in a World Business Report segment about gaming and mental health. Starting at the 9:00 mark, I talk about trauma and healing and how playing Sims was one of the tools at my disposal.
Huffington Post, November 2020. About the complex PTSD everyone–especially healthcare workers–is enduring with the pandemic.
“To sit with someone at the moment of their death, or at one of the worst moments of their lives — to hold that pain, and not to look away — is a sacred act. It is a gift — one with pointy edges, a gift that can, at any second, shred your hands, puncture a vein, open an artery. It is one of those tiger cubs that so enthralled most of America a few eternal months ago, the day after it stopped being cute and started to become a liability; the day its teeth grew sharp enough to remove a finger. It is a gift that is remarkably heavy; one that might begin to feel like a burden if you have to hold on to it long enough.”