i've been making a lot of bread. following a single bad recipe, which i then play with to try to make it what i want it to be. there's a simple soul-pleasure in kneading dough, even if i can only do it with one hand because it's the exact motion that fucks my other hand. the bread itself is very good, and we've taken to eating it with a bit of olive oil and salt. it's dense, and filling, and tastes like an idea of home that never really manifested.
reddit is dying, and i'm more upset about it than i think i should be. i'm not really "present" on reddit, since it's more of a communal space than the personal-in-public spaces a lot of other social networks are, but it's still a site i've been on more or less for ten years. there's a moderator/subreddit strike planned, but at this point, i don't think the site itself will survive: the thermocline has been breached, and i'm not the only one publicly expressing a lack of future trust in the space. (i say, here on tumblr.)
i want many things, but it isn't about my wants, so it's time to stop wanting something better. i really do believe the internet—or at least its halcyonic promises—is dead.
i really need to go home. being here (community-less, family-less, defensible space-less) is not helping.