The COVID Chronicles, Part VI: Existential Crisis Edition

Being an advertising copywriter is much closer to being a writer than a lot of other writers get to. Maybe I should just be grateful for that proximity and stop with my delusions of being a Writer with a capital W. So what if I never see the words “A Novel by Sage Romano” in the real world. Who the fuck cares?

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The COVID Chronicles, Part III: The First Breakdown

All my careful, wobbly little guardrails I’ve put up within this new normal, all my intentional little habits, all my mindful gratitude and willful calm—fucked. Just positively fucked today. Out of nowhere, pecking out a copydeck for a client, I just lost it and started weeping.

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The COVID Chronicles, part I: Living the Dream

We don’t have to run from a tidal wave of sudden sea-level rise, hotwire nuclear bombs in the core of an asteroid speeding to earth, navigate a faltering C30 to the reorganized poles of the planet, fly a helicopter with our ex-wife copilot into ravaged San Francisco to rescue our last remaining child. Nope, all we have to do is sit our asses at home. And wash our fucking hands.

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