This March, I share with my patrons an attempt at a short piece of autofiction (fictionalized autobiography). My goals are to experiment with polyphony and scene transitions between overlapping memories.
I'm writing about chronic pain today, because the last six months have brought about some big, big changes, and it's been a lot to take in.
This is a promise that nothing that has come before now has ruined my body. This is a promise that when I can't help hating my body: it's okay. And not a sign that I am defective.
Recently, a friend of mine and I were discussing our various health issues, and commiserating how it's slowly, over the past decade, infected everything in our lives. Like a small shadow that hangs