Twenty-twenty, to live up to its name, would be a good year to bring with it some fucking clarity.
The unsupported use case of Bix Frankonis’ disordered, surplus, mediocre midlife in St. Johns, Oregon.
No fear, no hate, no thoughtless bullshit, and no nazis.
Read the current manifesto. (And the followup.)
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Twenty-twenty, to live up to its name, would be a good year to bring with it some fucking clarity.