1. Carrots are roots—if they had one more o. 

2. If we rewind time 300 years, was there a 9-5?

3. Imagine. FitBit wrist, Botox chin. We’re already cyborgs, no?

4. Is human life is so bound up in sensational stories that we’re desensitized to the magical mundane?

5. The writer and an alcoholic both dabble in alternate realities. 

6. Cannabis isn’t a drug. It’s a medicinal plant. It’s only a drug in the same way coffee or echinacea are drugs.

7. I’m excited to find new ways to normalise unfiltered.

8. I have two goals. Write the truth. And provide. 

9. We are all here, scrolling. Chewing carrots. Waiting for something. Someone’s gotta go live.

10. Saw this and laughed: Don’t do school. Eat your drugs. Stay in vegetables. 

>>> Short post today. Here’s why. Yesterday I got to my English classroom early. The teacher before me still going. I peeked in the sliver of a door window. Students dead—heads heavy on their desks, shoulders pouring forward. Some were upright, fingers to face, rubbing their eyes like Ellie does right before bed. Others were upright, fingers to screen, chins to chest. My eyes swiveled to the teacher. She’s all eyes on the white board, which is covered in a digital projection of the library home page. I look back to the students. A few that were upright have since slumped. I look back at the teacher. She’s pointing to the board, explaining the difference between this and that library research resource. What? If I were that teacher, I’d take two consecutive time outs. Something’s not working. On her end, their end, or both. 

I feel like I’m sort of doing the same thing. Pushing 1950s logic onto a 2018 world. Do The Alt Dad Diary posts need to be shorter? Do fewer and fewer folks have the attention, time or interest to read? Is there someway to concentrate The Alt Dad Diary and package into a 1-3 min video? 

Originally, one of the roots of this diary project was that it’s a return to lo-fi. That was the idea in my head. No pictures. No gifs. No fancy graphics. No emojis. No video. No sparkles or glitter. Just one dude’s sometimes bitter and sometimes bright honest tea— first thing in the morning. Minimalist plain text. An old school approach. But I wonder if I’m like the teacher before me: holding out hope that the audience will come around, when in reality that’s preposterously delusional wishful thinking. 

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