“James Whitcomb Riley, America’s ‘Hoosier Poet,’ had his friends lock him up in a hotel room to write, naked, so he wouldn’t be tempted to go down to the bar for a drink.” I don’t identify with this AT ALL. (via Kottke)
the smell of my desperation has become a stench
Heather B. Armstrong
Hi. I’m Heather B. Armstrong, and this used to be called mommy blogging. But then they started calling it Influencer Marketing: hashtag ad, hashtag sponsored, hashtag you know you want me to slap your product on my kid and exploit her for millions and millions of dollars. That’s how this shit works. Now? Well… sit back, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.
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