Time Machine

Used to write about things that mattered—hunger in East Africa, what men find beautiful, girls who refused the boxes. Now it’s Miley Cyrus’s breasts and drunk teenagers at Oktoberfest. At some point the work shifted. Maybe I got tired of being angry about things I can’t fix. Maybe I just followed the audience elsewhere. Maybe I stopped believing any of it mattered. The old pieces are still out there if you want to see what I sounded like before that happened. It’s not a tragedy. It’s just what happens.