Its been a while since I have talked about the brokenness of the world, of how horribly wrong things really are, and how we forcefully drag ourselves through half of our existence, facing the perennial river of consciousness, rising and falling back again to the depth of our existential abyss. Well, this year was horrible enough to live through, let alone read and tell stories of horrors from the past. Many posts were scheduled for publication this year at Berkana that I couldn’t bring myself to finish. I started working on them, worked halfway through, abandoned them, moved on, and then returned to them because I felt guilty for not finishing them, resumed working on them, and then abandoned them again. I know that sounds inconsistent, but that's the messy truth behind most creative processes. I am convinced that these hard-to-finish posts dese…
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