over a year and a half ago i lost the notebook i was using to write my untitled trans fantasy road trip novel, due to my backpack being stolen; i was mostly unable to work on the project for a long time after that. i write fiction in a range of different ways including generative collage games which then become important visual references, and losing the existing body of work made the idea of starting again feel very overwhleming. but today i played some of my little collage games in a new notebook and now feel like maybe i can get going again.
the annoying thing is that after carefully deliberating over words in the actual exercise, the scraps while tidying up made the best poem. why do we toil
now i'm in the zone babey

