The parents were here today. They bought me food. Then they brought us to that used bookstore with the chaotic stacks and stacks, which was just depressing because a) I have no money and b) the store had no trace of George Saunders. And the only Judy Budnitz book they had looked rediculous. But it's ok because now there is a butternut squash sitting on the counter next to a pineapple and a heap of tomatoes.
Any old how. I am on my 9793rd word of 25 pages and 9 weeks of writing. I may have said this before, but if you ever need advice on your diasporic Indian film choices, I got your back. Although you may not want to lean on me to heavily: by the time this is done with who knows how much substance I will have.
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