in this endless winter, i see that i have chosen the proper lighting in my bedroom. yes, this lamp is from st.vincent de paul and the shade is from some other sort of thrift store. no matter the time of day or glum bluster there is outside, i can safely turn the knob just one notch and illuminate my room so that it feels like 8pm on a friday evening, with him playing the guitar in the dining room and a stomach full of date-dinner, cats cuddled up on the bed. covers thrown about.

on another, more professional note, it has been stated that i have an excellent ethnographic eye, and little was said about my faults within my drag queen study. Lauren Berlant's The Female Complaint proved to be a lengthy read yet completely understandable.